I went on "night-guard" after supper and it continued to rain all night, so that I failed to get any sleep; but then I didn't mind it, as I was well rested.
The next day after going to work, was when I caught fits though, working in a muddy pen all day. When night came I didn't feel as much like going on guard as I did the night before. A laughable circumstance happened that morning after going into the branding-pen.
As the pen had no "chute" we had to rope and tie down, while applying the brand. The men working in pairs, one, which ever happened to get a good chance, to catch the animal by both fore feet as he run by which would "bump" him, that is, capsize him. The other fellow would then be ready to jump aboard and hold him until securely fastened. There being only seven of us to do the roping that morning, it of course left one man without a "pard," and that one was me. Each one you see is always anxious to get a good roper for a "pard," as then everything works smoothly. Mr. Word told me to sit on the fence and rest until Ike Word, an old negro who used to belong to the Word family, and who was the best roper in the crowd, returned from town where he had been sent with a message.
It wasn't long till old Ike galloped up, wearing a broad grin. He was very anxious to get in the pen and show "dem fellers de art of cotching um by boaf front feet." But when his boss told him he would have to take me for a "pard" his broad grin vanished. Calling Mr. Word to one side he told him that he didn't want that yankee for a "pard," as he would have to do all the work, etc. He was told to try me one round and if I didn't suit he could take some one else. Shortly afterwards while passing Mr. Word old Ike whispered and said: "Dogon me if dat yankee don't surprise de natives!" When night came, and while I was on herd, old Ike sat around the camp fire wondering to the other boys "whar dat yankee learned to rope so well." You see Mr. Word had told the boys that I was from the Panhandle, and old Ike thought the Panhandle was way up in Yankeedom somewhere, hence he thinking I was a yankee. A few days after that though, I satisfied old Ike that I was a thoroughbred.
Mr. Word bought a bunch of ponies, new arrivals from Mexico, and among them was a large iron-grey, which the mexicans had pointed out as being "Muncho Deablo." None of the boys, not even old Ike, cared to tackle him. So one morning I caught and saddled him. He fought like a tiger while being saddled; and after getting it securely fastened he threw it off and stamped it into a hundred pieces, with his front feet, which caused me to have to buy a new one next day. I then borrowed Mr. Stephens' saddle, and after getting securely seated in it, raised the blinds and gave him the full benefit of spurs and quirt. After pitching about half a mile, me, saddle and all went up in the air, the girths having broken. But having the "hackimore" rope fastened to my belt I held to him until help arrived. I then borrowed another saddle, and this time stayed with him. From that on, old Ike recognized me as a genuine cow-puncher.
We finally got that herd, of thirty-seven hundred steers, ready for the trail; but the very night after getting them counted and ready to turn over to Mr. Stephens the next morning, they stampeded, half of them getting away and mixing up with thousands of other cattle.
Mr. Stephens thought he would try a new scheme that trip up the trail, so he bought a lot of new bulls-eye lanterns to be used around the herd on dark, stormy nights, so that each man could tell just where the other was stationed by the reflection of his light.
This night in question being very dark and stormy, Stephens thought he would christen his new lamps. He gave me one, although I protested against such nonsense.
About ten o'clock some one suddenly flashed his bulls-eye towards the herd, and off they went, as though shot out of a gun.
In running my horse at full speed in trying to get to the lead, or in front of them, me, horse, bulls-eye and all went over an old rail fence—where there had once been a ranch—in a pile. I put the entire blame onto the lamp, the light of which had blinded my horse so that he didn't see the fence.