USA > Kansas > Emigrant life in Kansas > Part 8
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Well! on this occasion I rounded them up and counted them, and found them all right; but, on returning to them in the afternoon, I found them in rather a wild excited state, and
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discovered that there was a heifer missing, as well as a young stray steer that did not belong to the herd, but which had taken to it and fed with it for several weeks. Of course, from time to time as I could leave the cattle for a little while, I hunted around in all the little hollows and likely places, but could not find her, and so took the herd home without her. The next day John Crompton tended the herd while I spent all my time in searching high and low for the missing heifer, but all to no purpose. We had been able to find out to whom the stray steer belonged, and now came to the conclusion that its owners had been after it, and possibly taken our heifer along for some reason or other.
The next day Steve and I rode over to the owner, who lived ten miles away, to see if we could get any information. We found their herd and the steer with it, but no signs of the heifer, and as their house was empty, they being but two bachelors, we were unable to gain any tidings here. On our way back, hardly knowing what to do next, when passing through my usual herding-ground, we found the poor thing, lying down in the long grass
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in a slight hollow, with a broken leg. It was evident that while cutting out the stray steer, they had run the cattle about over the rocks a good deal, which accounted for their being so excited when I found them that afternoon, and the heifer had been injured in this way. Still, as we could not prove anything, we had to let the matter drop, and the heifer was killed. The loss fell upon the owner, as Steve did not guarantee the well-being of cattle which he undertook to herd. Of course, there was no blame attached to me, as I was absent from the herd at the time, according to in- structions, but I did not half like losing the animal. It had the effect of keeping me entirely with the herd afterwards.
We had very few neighbours about us. A · few miles down the creek, in Davis County, there lived an old man named Wilson, who had been there very many years, in fact, so long that the creek was named after him. He was pretty well off, had a fine herd of cattle and several good horses, and, of course, having been the first settler, he had picked out the best farm in the neighbourhood. He was an old bachelor, and lived in a little log hut in
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a very primitive manner, and alone, save for a boy about a year or two older than myself, who looked after his cattle. He was not exactly a herder, as there was no herd-law, but, having a number of cattle, he had to look them up every day to see that they did not stray into the next county. He was not a nice youth, for though often meeting him on the prairie, he seldom spoke. I guess he was rather proud, for he used to come out some- times in a collar and a blue necktie,-articles rarely sported on the prairie. (I remember once my brother Jack was going to have his photograph taken, and for the life of us among the four we could not find a collar. He was taken with a tie on though, one that my father had brought from England.) He was always well dressed, and rode a splendid pony, while I had only canvas overalls and a couple of hickory shirts, which were worn right along for months.
Although living very comfortably with the Cromptons, money was mighty scarce; I received no advance, and once kept a letter for two months for want of a five-cent stamp, and was then ashamed to send it to an old
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school-fellow back in England for whom it was intended.
Another neighbour was an Englishman, named Wilkinson. He had been a window- dresser in a hosier's shop on Ludgate Hill. Rather a change for him, this quiet country life and farming, after the noise and bustle of London. He had not got thoroughly Ameri- canised when I knew him, and was rather conservative on some points. For instance, he threatened to shoot anybody who dared take a melon out of his patch without his permission. It is quite a regular thing here for a traveller to enter a field or an orchard and help himself to a water melon or a peach or apple, and being universally allowed it falls no harder on one than another. Any man that disapproved was quite at liberty to help him- self when out travelling, when he would find a nice ripe melon very acceptable. It cannot be called stealing, for all is done openly; it is simply a neighbourly action. Still Mr. Wilkinson did not like the practice, and in our hearing threatened dire punishment on any . one who should rob his fruit. John Crompton and I resolved to give him a lesson.
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One dark night, when there was no moon, we took a couple of horses and two big sacks, and rode over near to his farm. We left the horses in a hollow, out of sight of his house, and then taking the sacks, crawled on hands and knees through the long grass and into his melon patch. We cut a good many and ate the best parts, leaving the remainder so that he could see that someone had been enjoying themselves, and then filled our sacks with the finest in the patch. We rolled them down the ravine to where we had left our horses, threw them across their backs, and went home, without even having disturbed old Wilkinson's dogs. We covered up the melons in the stable with a lot of hay in case he should come around, which he did the next day, complaining bitterly ; but I don't think he had any suspicion as to who the culprits were. It was perhaps rather rough on him, but if the stupid man had but borne the loss of an occa- sional melon in a neighbourly manner, we should not have cleared his patch for him.
The farmers, as a rule, are very hospitable, and one could ride across country hunting up stray cattle or horses for days together,
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without being asked to pay for his board and night's lodging, or for his horse's provender. Of course, a man usually offered something, but the almost invariable reply was, " Oh ! that's all right, stranger, just you do the same for me when I'm in your parts!" Where a house was near a main road, running from town to town, such for instance as old Blake's on Monkres Creek, one was bound to make some charge for accommodation.
There being but few settlers in Crompton's neighbourhood, snakes were pretty plentiful, and I used to kill lots of them when out on the prairie with the herd. One day I had a big battle with a bull snake, about the largest I had seen. After I had killed him, I held him up by the tail, and reaching as high as I could, could scarcely get his head off the ground. I settled him with my whip, which made a fine weapon for the purpose. It was a regular stock whip, with a short stout handle about a foot long, loaded at the end with lead, and had a lash fifteen feet long, made of plaited · raw hide, round and tapering like a snake. It was enough to damp the ardour of any " rampagious " bullock, as when properly
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I .- A BATTLE WITH A BULL SNAKE.
2 .- VICTORY. "HOW LONG IS HE? "
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handled it would pop like a pistol, and draw blood every time. Sometimes I found snakes in such positions that I could not kill them. I was riding through the brushwood one day, when I saw a nest of five copperheads, all in a heap, but the trees were so thick that I could not swing my whip, and as there were no rocks near at hand I was reluctantly obliged to pass on.
Early one morning I had a high time with a wild bees' nest. It was about half a mile from the house, and I had determined to take it for the honey. This is how I set to work. The nest was a hole in the ground out on the open prairie, an old burrow of some animal ; and I went just before daybreak with two small flat sticks of wood, and began to thump on the ground to wake them up. I heard a big buzzing and humming, and then two or three crawled slowly out to see what was the matter. They came out gaping and rubbing their eyes, but before they discovered the cause of their being awakened so early, I had smashed them between my two sticks.
They continued coming up, and rather more quickly, but I managed them all right by
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covering the hole with one stick, and just letting them out one at a time to be killed with the other. Things were going on nicely for me, not for the bees,-when, to my alarm, I saw that there was another exit,-a back- door to their residence-quite beyond my reach, and from there they began to fly out in great numbers, for by this time they were wide awake, and angry at being disturbed; there was quite a roar in the nest. Immediately I saw this I knew that I must give up the job, so I took to my heels, and ran about a quarter of a mile, and then dropping to a walk was just congratulating myself on my lucky escape, when-buzz ! like a bullet a bee was down on me. He lit on the back of my neck, gave a sting, and then slid down my back under my shirt, and began again ; but I soon grabbed him and smashed him in my fingers. He was alone fortunately, but I had quite enough from him, and serve me right, too, some will say, for trying to rob their nest.
These bees are not like the regular honey bee, but large things, more like the humble bee, and capable, like the wasp, of stinging repeatedly. They build almost entirely in
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holes in the earth. Wasps are plentiful, also another insect, very similar, but black, and termed " mud-daubers," from their practice of building nests of mud all over the place, indoors or under the eaves like swallows.
The nests are very peculiar in construction, and contain inside, in a semi-torpid state, numbers of little spiders, which serve as food for the young when hatched.
One morning I found that one of the work horses was very ill, and had much difficulty in getting him home to the house, where he died almost immediately. He was suffering from the colic, and when I found him it was too late to save him. We dragged him down the ravine a little way, and there was no danger of his body proving a source of trouble at the house, for in a few hours his bones were stripped by the buzzards and bleaching in the sun.
It is wonderful to see how soon these birds find out a dead body. You might ride about the country for miles without seeing one, but let a carcass be thrown out on the prairie, and in a short time you will see first one black speck in the sky, and then another, and
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another, until soon there may be some dozens of the natural scavengers, the ugly, bald- headed turkey-buzzards, engaged in tearing it to pieces.
About the first of October old Mrs. Cromp- ton left us on a visit to her old home in Iowa, and shortly afterwards Steve and John had a big quarrel. John could not agree with Steve's wife, and, of course, Steve had to take her part. Words came to blows, and there was a rush for weapons; John got an axe, and Steve a pitch-fork, and there would doubtless have been murder if the two women and myself had not parted them. After this they could not live in the same house; so John built a shanty on his own land, and his sister kept house for him.
Of course, I stopped with Steve, as I had been hired by him, but my sympathies were entirely on the' other side. I liked John first- rate.
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Shortly after this the weather broke, and we had it very rough. Almost every day it rained fearfully hard, and sometimes froze as it fell, so that the cattle and myself were covered with ice. At such times it required
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I .- HEADING A REFRACTORY STEER.
2 .- HEADED.
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all my energy to prevent a general stampede. I had to gallop continually up and down before the face of the cattle, using my whip as they scuttled along before the bitter north wind.
This continual strain wore out my pony. He was quite sore where I had to keep spurring him, and at last he got so used up, that when passing over a piece of rough ground, if I was in a hurry, I was obliged to jump off and leave him, and rush after the cattle on foot. Of course, this could not last long, and the pony gave out completely, and died two or three weeks before the end of the season, and Steve had to get me another.
The last three weeks of the herding was terrible work ; wet through or half-frozen nearly every day, and kept in a chronic state of anxiety, not knowing but that at any moment the brutes might make a stampede which I should be powerless to stop. As it was I often had to just let them go before the storm, keeping them together as well as I could, until they struck some creek under cover of which I could work them round by degrees towards home.
How I counted the days and even the hours
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of the last two or three weeks, looking forward to the 4th of November ! I don't know that I was ever more anxious for a time to come than I was for that date to arrive; the anxiety and strain combined with the unpleasant wet and cold work were so great. At last the long-looked-for day arrived, the herd was broken up, the different cattle sent home to their respective owners, and I returned home with ours, after receiving my pay.
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CHAPTER X.
LEAVING HOME AGAIN.
Premature arrangements .- An unexpected check .- Start for Junction .- A silent ride .- My note .- Down the track .- Commence work for Anderson .- Shucking and hauling corn .- A horse trading trial .- Tom Crofter .- Anderson moves .- A bad road .- The mail carrier .- The new farm. -Rats .- Leave Anderson.
BEFORE leaving I had made arrangements with John Crompton to go to a good school at Junction during the coming winter. We were going to rent a small place in town, and his sister was going to keep house for us. I · had got about enough money to keep me through the winter, as living is very cheap, and the tuition at the school was free. But the old adage says, "Never count your chickens before they are hatched," and I guess that I was a little premature in my arrangements.
When I arrived home with our cattle and my twenty-seven dollars-for I had not spent
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a cent as yet,-I learned to my surprise that I was expected to share the money with my brother Jack. This, of course, would upset all my plans for the winter, and so I was very loth to part. Besides, I could not see the justice of it, for I had not only been keeping myself through the summer, while food was scarce owing to the hoppers' visit, but I had also herded the cattle free of charge, when I might have been staying at Blake's all the time. Of course, they claimed that if I had been at . home, and got up a herd, that any profit would have been divided; but I tried that in the spring, and could not get enough cattle to- gether; besides which there would have been my keep through the summer, and the wear and tear of a pony.
Still, I failed to convince them of .the justice of my views, and had to shell out. This knocked over all my arrangements, and I felt it so much that I declared that I would not stop at home; but I guess they did not believe that I meant it, for Jack and I were sent to town the next day to sell a load of wheat. Jack was to buy some clothes and other things, while I was supposed to be going with the
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object of buying books for my schooling, but that was quite out of the question, as I could not keep myself all through the winter on fourteen dollars.
We started for Junction at five o'clock in the morning, of course long before daylight, as it was a good long day's journey, seventeen miles either way, and we had a good heavy load to take over the rough country road. I guess it was a pretty dull ride that, for I was kinder sulky, and not a word I spoke all the time. As we were going along after the sun had risen and it was broad daylight, Jack pulled the tail off a buffalo's hide which we had over our knees, and, throwing it in the grass beside the track, said, " I wonder if we shall see that when we come back ! " These were the only words spoken on our journey, for I would not reply, but thought to myself, " Well, you may perhaps, but I shan't. I guess I shall be several miles away by that time."
We arrived at Junction after a while, and sold our wheat. We then hitched our team to a post, and Jack went to get his photograph taken. He wanted me to come too, very much, but I would not. I did not feel in the humour.
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I should not have looked very pleasant in a photo just then. I left Jack ostensibly to get my books, but I went to another store, and · bought some good rough serviceable clothes, some crackers, and a pencil. I had the clothes made in a parcel, then ate the biscuits, and with the pencil wrote a short note to Jack on the paper bag. The note was as follows : " Good-bye, Jack, I'm going away. Don't wait for me, for I'm not coming home any more." This epistle I tied on the whip-handle, and saying "good-bye" to the old horses, started off down the river eastwards, my idea being to work my way along, gradually earning enough money to enable me to return to England.
After travelling a mile or two along the railroad track, I went down under a little bridge and changed my clothes, leaving the majority of my old things there. This I did, not from any fear of. detection,-for I did not suppose for a minute that they would try to find me and bring me back,-but simply because my old clothes were quite played out, having been worn all summer.
By night I arrived at Ogden, a little town
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about. ten miles down the river, below Fort Riley, and here I put up at a boarding-house. I inquired about work, and could have obtained it close at hand, but preferred to get further
away. I travelled along on the railroad track again next day for some miles. It is the recognised highway for all foot travellers, as it is not only the nearest way from town to town, but it is easier walking. The bridges were nasty things to cross though, as they are only trestle-built structures. The metals are laid on big square wooden logs, eighteen inches apart, and one had to step from one to the other. It was not a very nice job; a false step would have sent one headlong into the river, or on to the rocks a hundred feet below. There was only a single track, so that it was best to make sure that there was no train coming in either direction, because to meet it on the bridge one would have to lie down or else hang on underneath while the train passed over him. Still, as there were but four trains a day, a passsenger and a goods each way, there was not much danger in that direction.
That afternoon I passed through Manhattan, thirty miles from Junction, and when about
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five miles beyond there, in Pottawattamie county, I met a young man on a pony, who asked a question about some stray horses. I inquired for work, and he told me that, if I went down to his father-in-law's farm, a little farther on, I could no doubt get some corn husking to do. I went on and soon found the place, and was engaged at 75 cents a day . during the time that the job should last. I found the farmer was a Swede, named Anderson. He had a big family, mostly young, and one daughter rather older, who was married to the young man I had met, Tom Crofter, a Scotchman. They lived with the old people.
They had a big farm, though it was only rented, and there was work for some few weeks, husking. The Indian corn ripens about the end of September, or rather later, but, unlike most crops, it is not necessary to gather it at once. The ears are covered by the shucks, and it can stand out in the field for a long time without being damaged, so that it can be gathered at the farmers' convenience.
There was another man in Anderson's employment, a German, Henry, and we three
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worked away husking corn for a good time. The usual .plan of work is like this. The corn having been planted in the usual way in rows and hills, a waggon is driven straight along over one row. One man takes three rows on one side of the waggon, and another three rows on the other, while a third takes the " down row," that is, the row broken down by the waggon, and assists a bit on either side as required.
The hand is armed with a " shucking-peg" -either of wood or iron fastened on with a thong,-which tears open the shucks on the ears of corn, which are then pulled off the stalks, and thrown into the waggon. When . this is full, it is driven to the corn crib and emptied by means of a big scoop shovel, a slanting board having been previously put in one end of the waggon, to form a surface for the shovel to work on.
The three of us could husk and unload about a hundred and twenty-five bushels a day, five waggon loads. When this work was all com- pleted, we were nearly into the middle of winter, so I agreed to stop on with Anderson for a while, for my board and lodging, and
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Henry did the same, doing the " chores,"- that is, attending to the cattle, and "hewing wood and drawing water," etc.
As spring drew near, and the price of corn was raised, Anderson began to sell, and then we had plenty of work, hauling it to town, where, after being weighed on a big "Fairbanks' " scale, it had to be unloaded into the immense cribs which the traders had built in town. This was very hard work, using the big scoop, which held nearly half a bushel, for the cribs were so high and full that it was as much as one could do to throw the corn high enough. The waggons, when unloading, were always surrounded by lots of pigs and cows belonging to the townspeople, which picked up the stray ears which fell to the ground.
Old Anderson was very fond of his drops, and usually returned partially drunk, for he and I generally came to town; and while I unloaded the waggon, he paid a visit to the " saloon," as all drinking-bars are there called. He used at first to try and get me to drink with him, but after my little experiment with the neat whisky up at home, I had forsworn all spirituous liquors ; so he generally gave me
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a quarter of a dollar, and told me to buy crackers or apples or candy and take some home to the children.
Of course, I did not want a shilling's worth of sweets every day, and, while generally taking some to the children, I saved a little money during this period, although not in receipt of any regular wages.
Anderson, as a rule, was a very morose, surly sort of man, but, when a little under the influence of whisky, became quite jolly and prodigal with his money. Henry was just the reverse ; he was usually a very good- natured, lively individual, going about his work, singing and whistling, but directly he got outside a few glasses of whisky, his manner was very different. He was then ex- ceedingly irritable, and went about swearing and quarrelling with every one. He was by - no means an abstainer; he could not, in fact, wait until he got to town for his liquor, but kept a bottle hidden away out in the stable or elsewhere.
Once Tom and I found a bottle of whisky in the side of a haystack, and Tom made punch with the contents for himself and his
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wife, and then returned the empty bottle to its hiding-place. Henry did not say anything about it, but was rather out of temper for some time.
While I was staying here, Anderson traded horses with a neighbour, and we had rather an amusing time over it.
The neighbour, an old Englishman, named Hockley, proposed the exchange, which was, his three-year-old filly, not broken in, for Anderson's old blind mare, a steady-going old work-horse. Anderson, having two or three teams, was nothing loth, and the "swop" was made, but two days afterwards Hockley came over to say that the mare had died during the night, and he wanted his filly back again. Of course, Anderson could not see the force of this, and Hockley went to law to recover her.
The action came off before the " Squire " and twelve of the neighbours, who assembled at his house to form the jury. The " Squire" was a farmer like the rest of them, but a sort of justice of the peace.
In the meantime the filly was hidden away, for Anderson was determined not to give her up, whether he lost or won. .
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The action was not for damages, but simply to recover the young mare; so one dark night we put her in a little uninhabited log-house, which stood on another man's farm, a long way from any other buildings, and we used to go and feed and water her by night. It was well that we did hide her, for one night we were awaked by the dogs, who found two men prowling about the stable, evidently Hockley and his man, looking for the filly.
At last the day for the trial came round, and we all repaired to " Squire " Dick Holt's house. He very seldom had anything to do in his official capacity, as the county was but thinly settled, and, in fact, they had to hunt rather wide for the jury. Amongst his other duties a squire is authorised to perform the marriage ceremony, which is done in a very off-hand and business-like manner. Here is a description, culled from an American paper.
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