USA > Nebraska > Dixon County > History of Dixon County, Nebraska > Part 24
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top of the hard ernst, and using her feet with the agility of a clog dancer, she soon began to overhaul them again.
At last she overtook them. It was in a deep and lonely dell where the flowers bloomed in the noontide effulgence, where humming birds sipped and sang and blue bottle flies and big beetles bazzed. There, where all nature wore a quiet and peaceful garb, and naught was heard save the soft song of the tree frog. the low rustle of the leaves and the gentle voice of the modest mosquito, the fugitive bears and wolves with their fleeing progeny, had made their stand. Mahitabel approached gallantly, and leveling her musket, blazed away. One bear fell. The other bears and all the wolves, excepting one, fled. They ran up a tall pine stub, and entering a great hole in the top, disappeared from view.
But the wolf that did not flee turned upon Mahitabel and tackled her. Then she also gathered up her feet for flight. She climbed an umbrageons beach which considerate provi- dence had kindly planted near by. The pursuing wolf closely followed after, and like her, shinned his way up the tree. In the meantime Mahitabel had climbed to the top- most branches, where, as she could go no farther, she calmly awaited her approaching enemy. The wolf carefully picked his way up the tree until he came within about four feet of her. Then. as he stopped to reconnoitre, our heroine reach- ed over and took him by the tail and turned him around, and he saw himself suddenly looking down the tree and growling in great wrath. But this relief from danger was momentary. The wolf, madder than ever. turned back again as soon as she let go her hold. and again looked at her and attempted to glare her out of countenance. Then once more she reached over him and grabbed him by the tail and switched him around. Whereupon. dismayed and overawed the wolf jumped for a neighboring tree.
As he jumped. she seized his tail in her teeth and with a large sized darning needle in each hand she spurred the wolf behind. She also unlimbered her feet with the force of two pile drivers and kicked him fearfully and wonderfully. The wolf reached the next tree and hung on. She also hung on. The wolf now greatly frightened ran to the top. she still hanging to him and spurring and kicking him as before. Then the wolf jumped to the next tree top and so on from
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tree top to tree top, she still hanging on and looking like a cloud disturbing Venus, as she floated high aloft, spurring, kicking and whooping through the atmosphere. At last they reached the hollow pine stub where the other bears and wolves had taken refuge. Then the immense beast broke loose from the clutches of our heroine and entering the hole. joined his brother wolves and bears.
Mahitabel, left master of the situation, like a good gen- eral immediately mounted guard over the whole outfit, and there, undismayed by the growling and grumbling of the im- prisoned beasts beneath her, she remained until an hour later when her brother came within hail. Being made acquainted with the situation, he went and brought the oxen and hitch- ing them to the pine stub, tipped it over and caught the en- tire band of wild beasts in the hen house which he had brought down for that purpose on the stone boat.
In proof of this story the old frontiersman showed the hunters the hen house where the bears and wolves had been kept, and also pointed out the pine stub and the hole. He would in farther proof, have shown them the valient Mahita- bel, but he said she was then some distance away in the timber cutting cord wood. On seeing such incontestable proof of the presence of wild and savage beasts, the hunters concluded, especially as it was near night, to go home and get more ammunition and finish their hunt another day. As they left. the old frontiersman again gazed long at them and at the bright green foliage which soon hid them from his view.
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HISTORY OF DIXON COUNTY, NEBRASKA.
REMINISCENCES, AND HOW WE ONCE RAN FOR OFFICE.
The life of a country editor, for nearly twenty-five years at the same old stand. publishing the same old newspaper he then commenced, and year in and year ont diligently wielding the same old editorial shears and paste brush, is none too exuber- ant even under the most favorable conditions. yet it some- times has a few gleams of excitement in it. As he treads and retreads his accustomed round, diligently threshing out disquisitions on every subject from the rise of parties to the price of corn, from "the tariff" down to self congratulatory blowouts over "onr immense circulation" and from thence to a notice of Neighbor Jones' patch of big watermelons, "one of which is on our table." his life, we say, though it would appear to be a perpetual round of monotony. is not altogeth- er so. Thus, when, as occasionally happens, insatiate credi- tors on the one hand and delinquent subscribers on the other. conspire to locate him on the ground said to be "between the devil and deep sea," he forgets the sameness of his exist- ence in solving the interesting problem of ways and means how he is to rescue himself from the threatening perils nn- scathed. Or when. in his efforts to serve to his constitutents their weekly allowance of literary fodder, he unexpectedly has the good fortune to nail some incident, legend or adven- ture of more than ordinary interest, he forgets all else in the joy of resening the nugget from its sand -- perhaps he publishes it at all events he clothes it as gorgeously as imagination will permit, and, for future use. carefully lays it on the shelf. where his pipes, unpaid bills and other valuables are kept. In the course of twenty years one may harvest quite a large number of these nuggets, some of which are worth saving. while others will be found glittering. but useless pyrites. The facts, fancies, legends and incidents in part second of this book, were collected in the minner above hinted, and the publication of them is for the purpose of keeping alive the memory of pioneer days.
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HISTORY OF DIXON COUNTY, NEBRASKA.
In those old days, twenty-five years ago, there was little local news outside the ordinary routine of life. Twice a week, when the mail arrived from Sioux City, (we had no railroad then), we learned of what was doing in the outside world, its excitements. wars, politics, crimes and accidents- but here at home there was little to stir the blood, and aside from politics, little to excite attention. Thus in a civil, peaceable, law abiding way the people on this frontier drifted along, improving their farms, building houses, and, whether farmers, merchants or mechanics, gradually enlarging the business they were in and slowly but surely becoming more independent and comfortable.
Speaking of politics, we will say that we never had any- thing to do with it except once, and the history of that one time we will add here, in order to suitably lengthen out this sketch to proper proportions. Many have heard the story before but they will perhaps like to hear it again.
About twenty years ago we had the ambition to become county judge. Why we had such a wish the Lord only knows. Perhaps we caught it as one catches the measles or whooping cough. At all events we had it, mildly at first and increas- ing in violence as time went on. The office of county judge was not one of great wealth and in those days the incumbent had little to do. But what the office lacked in business or fees, it made up in dignity. The ponderous, heavy sounding and big bodied name of "judge" was not to be scornfully sneezed at. And it would be a great honor in after years, to be able to swell up one's diaphragm and speak of the time when "we were on the bench," etc. Consequently we proposed to fasten to the judgeship.
In pursuance of this project. we confidentially whispered to certain friends that certain other of our friends had whis- pered the idea to us, and that while we didn't want the office, still, for the sake of harmony. we might possibly. though with great reluctance, be prevailed upon to run. if the party desired it. Then our friends went around and told how, without our wishes and in a great measure unbeknown to us, there seemed to be a spontaneous uprising of the bone and sinew of the county, in order to give us that tremendous office and its still more tremendous title.
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HISTORY OF DIXON COUNTY, NEBRASKA.
It was no doubt the reluctance on our part to accept this great office. that induced sixteen of the twenty-eight dele- gates to come and see us, each one separately and privately before the convention came off. and earnestly insist on our accepting the distinguished trust. Our continued labors for the party, they said, were duly remembered. Our lack of legal knowledge, we were sympathizingly informed, did not disqualify us, as in that office no such knowledge was neces- sary. Each of the sixteen went away bathed in tears of joy. for we consented to run.
We were unable to attend the convention, but afterwards heard that when it came off we did not quite get six- teen out of the twenty-eight votes. In fact, when the votes were counted. we seemed even to fall somewhat short of a majority. Perhaps you will be surprised, but we did not get twelve votes ont of the twenty-eight. If the truth must be told we couldn't boast of nine votes. If we had had eight votes we should have been better off than we were. We are compelled to remark that had we received seven votes, we should have been much encouraged, for seven is a lucky num- ber. But we did not get seven, nor indeed six votes. It is a great cross to admit it, but we lacked some of getting five votes. We should have been thankful if we had had three votes. as that is said to be a rising number. We certainly ought to have received two votes, and we probably should if some one had joined with the lone and lonesome delegate who voted for us.
Yes, we had one vote.
It has always been a source of gratification to reflect that when that vote was put in there was no convulsion of na- ture. no stopping the earth in its motion. nor even an earth- quake. On the contrary, everything continued the same as before. The sad and solitary vote was dropped so meekly and nnobtrusively into the hat that no one would have noticed anything out of the ordinary course of events, unless, per- haps, that the delegate appeared to be a little ashamed of himself.
After the convention, the sixteen delegates came one after another and made us a visit of condolence. Each with sorrow depicted on his contenance expressed in moving ac- cents his deep regret, and stated how hard he had labored.
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It appeared that each of the sixteen was the identical one who had voted for us. Such sympathy, so reliable and truthful, greatly calmed and encouraged us, and since then we always believe every word a delegate tells us. We after- wards learned, however. that the unfortunate man who did give us that one vote was not one of our friendly band of sixteen, but he voted for us because he knew us less than he did the other candidates.
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HISTORY OF DIXON COUNTY, NEBRASKA.
A BULL FIGHT.
In Spain, bull fights are very frequent. In this country. however, they are not so common, yet they sometimes occur. Josh. Bennett was the fortunate owner of a very fine. thoroughbred bull. A bull of powerful neck and won- derful horns and whose geneology could if necessary be traced back in a direct line to the ancient and aristocratic family of the bulls of Bashan. Picketed to a stake back of Josh's barn. his (the bull's) melodious voice was often heard in tones defiant, inviting other bulls, (of which this country had the pleasure of having several roaming around, to approach and hold a conference. Early one Saturday morning. while the aforesaid Taurus was trying the strength of a 100-foot picket rope trying also occasionally the strength of his lungs, a dis- tant sound like the roar of approaching thunder was heard coming over the bluff. A cloud of dust first was seen. which moving down the hill side like a small tornado, reveal- ed within it the contorting and cavorting form of another bovine-a bull, black as ink who praneed upon the scene with head down and tail up. with flaming eyes and furi- ous horns. As he thus in full fighting trim appeared Josh's bull. eagerly smelling the impending conflict. hastened to meet him. Josh having at the first note of war untied the rope so that no nndue advantage could be taken. Thus ad- vancing. they paused a moment when at a little distance apart, each to more closely view his antagonist. to paw the ground, and to pipe out the stirring note of battle. In the meanwhile the spectators speedily scaled the neighboring fences for safe keeping. Then with a preliminary roar the Taurian gladiators rushed upon each other. They speared in with their horns and tried to exalt each other thereon. they butted with their heads. they tore up the ground. they lashed their sides with their tails: each tried to dislocate the others neck. to cut his sides open. to break his back. both at the same time shooting off their mouths in voices of blood and
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fury. Thus they fought. With amazing celerity they twist- ed and flounced around each other, goring and goading, sup- ple as eels and with the fury of tigers, while the air resound- ed with the din, and the earth trembled as though a whole drove of antediluvian monsters had come again.
Being of about the same size, and both of them large and in perfect fighting trim -- for some time it was hard to tell upon whose banner victory would perch. At first it was thought that the black bull would get away with the other. For a few of the first rounds he seemed to butt and gore with such remarkable ability and science that it looked as though he would soon be master of the situation. But finally Josh's bull turned upon his adversary with a desperation which re- gained in a twinkling all the ground he had lost in the fight theretofore. The battle raged until the antagonists. covered with wounds and bathed in blood and foam, were nearly ex- hausted. Then the black bull, which had been losing ground for some time, gave a parting roar, and turning. fled, and the other was too nearly played out to follow far. Then he was tied up again, and peace once more spread its white wings over the scene.
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HISTORY OF DIXON COUNTY, NEBRASKA.
IRREPRESSIBLE CONFLICT CONCERNING A HOG TROUGH.
As people of peace. this country used to have few quar- rels and fights, and when one came off it was remembered. I never, for twenty years after coming here, saw but one real hard fought battle, and that I will now describe.
One day I had a trip to St. Helena in Cedar county, and on the route I came, not far from the county line, to a small but romantic valley which, embowered among the hills. presented a beautiful and attractive landscape. A silvery stream, over which was thrown a rustic bridge, sped merrily along, and on either side were fine farms with highly culti- vated fields. A more peaceful, pleasant spot one could hardly find, and it would be difficult to believe that in so charming an Arcadian retreat, had been heard the shouts of combatants and the crash of war. Yet such, I regret to say, was the case.
Near the stream just mentioned was the farm of a man whom I will call Smith, (that not being his right name) and his house, but a short distance from the bridge, was tastefully situated amid trees and vines. With old man Smith and his wife lived two slab-sided. strapping sons and their wives. all of whom. generally peaceable and sluggish. were at the time I came to the bridge in question, engaged in warlike demonstrations of no make believe variety. As they occupied the bridge. I could not pass over, and hence had to stop and see the scrimmage.
The names of the two sons were Joe and Jim, and from what I could learn as to the cause of the row. it appeared that they had had certain differences of opinion, whereby lengthy and earnest discussions and exhaustive arguments ensued. concerning their respective rights and duties in re- gard to the cleaning out of a certain hog trough then and there being. Joe insisted that Jim should cleanse and scrape the said trongh. whereas Jim maintained with equal force of
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HISTORY OF DIXON COUNTY, NEBRASKA.
words and power of logie that it was Joe's business and not "his'n." As neither could convince the other, there was but one way left, and that was a resort to arms. Whereupon they rushed to the shock caparisoned and panoplied in this wise. Joe grappled in his left hand an old breech burnt re- volver. the which, as it was not loaded excepting with the accumulated rust of the past five years, was not as danger- ous a weapon as would appear at first glance. In his right hand he carried a long stake. plucked from a convenient sled. To oppose this wrathful attack. Jim grabbed a churn having a few gallons of buttermilk in it, and desiring to open the battle by an artillery duel. discharged the con- tents at long range upon the advancing foe. Then, while his enemy was demoralized by the deluge of sour milk. Jim picked up a "swingletree." and fearlessly faced the cavernous mouth of the revolver, and, regardless of the sled stake. rushed upon Joe and knocked his two eyes into one .- made more room in his mouth by taking therefrom four teeth, and plastered his upper lip like a poultice of apple butter all over his face.
But this little episode did not check the undaunted soul of the warlike Joe. With his sled stake he ironed down Jim's nose until it resembled a pound of suitably hammered beef steak. one ear hung down like a broken sunflower, and a resounding pelt on his frontal bone caused him to see stars. planets. comets and sons without number.
But now Jim unlimbered again and let fly with his swingletree and nicely skinned from his antagonist's sconce a strip of scalp long enough for a halter strap. split his nostrils apart until they looked in two different directions like the protecting guns of an assaulted fortification, and with a back action upward movement stroke, knocked his chin into his nose, thereby transforming his frontispiece into a beak.
And now. the battle becoming hot. the wives of the con- batants gallantly moved to the conflict and reinforced, one on each side. And old man Smith and his wife also rushed down to the bridge where the fight was coming off, and tried to quell the tumult, but not being successful, finally joined in, one favoring Joe and the other Jim.
Then surged and resurged the battle on the bridge, and red ran the stream beneath it. Each combatant as he or
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she pranced into the fight, had brought such weapons as were most convenient. On the left where the heaviest force seemed to be engaged, a shovel and a mop as opposing banners led the van. while through the air like chain shot or bursting bombs, came a skillet, an ash pan, two stove hooks and a pail of swill.
At the centre of the hard fought field, Joe wielded his sled stake again and let it fall like a trip hammer, cutting a hole in Jim's head, though not letting out any brains for obvious reasons. And in response Jim plied his swingletree bravely and vigorously, and with the determination never to yield, but to knock Joe out. gave vigorous and repeated blows upon the region of his pericardium and supergasticus. Also knocked off the single button holding up Joe's pants, which therefore becoming demoralized. Joekicked them off as scornfully and disregardingly as the hero who burned his ships behind him. Then Joe lifted his sled stake and discharged a fearful blow at what was left of Jim's head. Had the blow hit square. the history of this fight would there and then have been concluded. But providence so ordained that as the blow de- scended. Jim. in trying to avoid it, fell into the creek, and Joe's tremendous exertions pitched him headlong after Jim. The creek, though not deep, was muddy, but regardless of the water and mud. they continued to fight, and grappled with one another and pounded and clawed until old man Smith, again assuming the position of mediator, waded out to them and with a fire shovel proceeded to administer judi- cions slaps here and there, and impartially and indiscrimin- ately paddle the beligerant and slippery bodies which squirmed and flounced around in the mud like eels in a soap tub. Then he took a fence rail and pried them asunder and peace was once more proclaimed. Then the sole specta- tor of the scene. drove on. How they finally decided the question of cleaning the hog trough we never heard.
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HISTORY OF DIXON COUNTY, NEBRASKA.
A CONFIDENCE GAME TAKES PEOPLE IN.
"Gimme seventy-five cents for this dollar bill!" yelled a chap standing in a carriage on Mikesell's corner, one Satur- day afternoon.
There was nothing in the appearance of the man to war- rant the supposition that he was insane. On the contrary he looked about as sharp as they make 'em.
"Gimme a quarter for a half-dollar, ten cents for a quar- ter, who'll have 'em?" he vociferated, as the crowd gathered around.
Of course such an opportunity for speculation was not to be passed by and while setting him down as an escaped lunatic, several bystanders snapped np his baits in a hurry.
"I tell ye. fellers." he cried. "I've got lots of money, and I'm tryin' ter get rid of it. I'm on the hunt of my dad's reputation that he lost up here ten years ago. None of ye hain't seen nothin' of it have ye? Who'll have ten cents jist to 'member me by?"
The crowd grew, and our lunatic drove a thriving busi- ness, occasionally varying the performance by scattering a little loose change on the ground, where the crowd nearly mashed each other's shins in picking it up.
"I tell ye I'm rich!" he shouted. "Our hull family's that way. I've got the nicest farm ye ever saw down in Iowa. 'Nuther man's farm lays right on top of it. Who wants this elegant quarter for only a dime?"
By this time the crowd numbered about a hundred, and then the sad-faced stranger began to come down to business.
He opened a valise of microscopic dimensions, and took out a case of Peter Funk jewelry. Picking out a common collar button, he explatterated thus:
"Gentlemen, I am traveling agent for the Chicago jewelry firm of Clapp & Co. We have lately patented a new article of jewelry, which we are desirous of introducing into your town. Composed of equal parts brass, tin, copper and plat- inum, warranted good as gold, will not rust, discolor, rip,
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tear, ravel or run down at the heel. I have here a few samples, which I wish some of you intelligent gentlemen to examine, so that next week when our selling agent arrives with a large stock, you may know what quality of goods he has. But to guard myself against loss, while you are exam- ining the button, please hand up ten cents, its value, which shall be returned to you when you have done."
Quite a number of verdants complied with his request. Their money was returned to them after the examination and he also generously allowed them to keep the button. This performance was gone through with on several differ- ent articles and the rush became great. for he generally re- turned more money than had been given him.
He at last brought out a case of the meanest of mean brass rings for which he asked a dollar as security. The careful observer might have observed that this time he didn't promise to return the money worth a cent. People bit as usual, however. Then he brought out some more rings for which he asked two dollars security. Meanwhile he hadn't returned the one dollar men's scads. But these innocents waited patiently. He exhorted the crowd to come up and invest in the $2 rings. "Just to make the $1 men sick." said he. Quite a number again bit, some of the $1 men among the number.
He now had in his hands some $20 or $25. And now this peculiar acting agent began to act still more peculiar.
Like Elisha, he "riz right up" in his carriage and politely informed the crowd that he had given them a good article of experience at a nominal price, and they should be satis- fied.
"This money," said he, "I might return to you: and. agin, I moughtn't. I might donate it to the Young Men's Chris- tian association; but I won't. I might give it to the churches: but it wouldn't do to divide such a small amount of money between so many churches. I might jam it down my jeans; and I'll be derned if I don't think I will!" And before the astonished victims could get this meaning through their hair, his buggy wheels had disappeared around the corner. They never saw him nor the money again. It was a good lesson, showing as it did, the "ways that are dark and the tricks that are vain."
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HISTORY OF DIXON COUNTY, NEBRASKA.
PROF. PERRIGQUE'S FIGHT WITH FIRE.
The passengers on the train one evening, saw on the hills and the ravines northeast of Ponca, a tremendous fire. Little did they imagine that in the centre of that magnificent dis- play of flame a cruel scene was being enacted.
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