Buffalo Bill and the Overland Trail / Being the story of how boy and man worked hard and played hard to blaze the white trail, by wagon train, stage coach and pony express, across the great plains and the mountains beyond, that the American republic might expand and flourish

by Edwin L. Sabin

“No, nor on mine,” asserted Henry.

“Anybody who thinks he has to beat bulls to drive them doesn’t know how to drive,” added Charley.

That night they all slept on the ground under blankets and quilts and buffalo robes; many of the men slept beneath their wagons. The neck-yokes of the oxen, with an overcoat folded into the hollow of the curve in them, made comfortable pillows. At least so Davy found his when, to be a veteran bull whacker, he borrowed a yoke and tried. Two men at a time night-herded the cattle. Davy, being an “extra,” did not go on herd yet.

The mess cooks were up at dawn preparing breakfast; and speedily the collection of little camps was astir. The men called back and forth, washed at the nearby creek, brought water in buckets, and what fuel they found, and were ready for breakfast when breakfast was ready for them. The company, Davy learned, furnished everything, even to the gunny sacking in which buffalo chips and bull chips were gathered; everything except the men’s revolvers. These the men owned.

By the time that the breakfasts were over the cattle had been driven, with shouts and crack of whip, into the wagon corral, where under a dust cloud they stood grunting and jostling. Yank posted himself at one gap of the corral Charley at the other.

“Catch up! Catch up, boys!” called Charley, the wagon boss; the cry was repeated, and the men sprang to their yokes. Every man with his yoke on his shoulder, a yoke pin in his hand, another in his mouth, and an ox-bow slung on his arm, the gang poured into the corral. It was an interesting sight, and a number of emigrants who had camped near gathered to witness.

There was a rivalry among the men as to which should yoke up first. Davy wondered how they found their bulls so readily; but in rapid succession every man, working hard, had yoke and bows on a pair of his team, and led them forth to his wagon. First the yoke was laid over the neck of a bull, the bow was slipped under and the pins thrust in to fasten bow to yoke; then the other bull was yoked; and this done, dragging the chains they were led out in a hurry. This pair, Davy saw, were the wheel team—the team next to the wagon. They supported the wagon pole, which hung in a ring riveted to the centre of the yoke. As soon as the wheel teams were hitched to the wagon the men hastened to yoke and lead out the lead teams, which were the teams at the other end of the six. Then the space was filled in by the four other teams, all the chains were hooked, the men straightened out their six yoke, and the train was ready to move.

It all had been done, as Davy thought, very quickly; but Joel Badger, whom Davy liked exceedingly, thought differently.

“We make rather a botch of it at first,” said Joel, as beside his fine team he stood, whip in hand, waiting for the word to start. “Some of the bulls are sure to be green or ornery, and not used to their drivers or each other. After they have pulled together for a time all the bulls in each team will sorter flock in a bunch, in the corral, and a fellow won’t have to hunt through the herd. You’ll see some fast work before you get to the end of the trail.”