Under the Shadow of my own Vine and Fig-tree—Too much Sympathy—Again in the Theatre—My First Trip across the Plains—A Fiddle as a Sensation—The Free Fight—My First Lesson in Swimming—Wanted, a New Bow—Judgment on a Whiskey-drinker—The Third Time—Out He Goes—A Stampede—Growing into Favor—The Horse-thieves—Military Judgment.
For a brief time, I again returned to my father, who had been unwilling that I should rejoin Pinkerton. He could stand my being deputy-sheriff under his own eye, but he did not relish my becoming a regular detective.
However, his term of office as sheriff was now expired, and I told him:
"I must do something."
"So you shall," he replied. "There is a nice little farm at some fifteen miles distant. I will buy it for you."
I had never yet resided under what Scripture calls "the shadow of my own vine and fig-tree." The idea struck me in a favorable light, and I cordially accepted his offer, although somewhat doubting my capacity in an agricultural line.
However, the die was cast, and in a few weeks I had settled down in the original occupation of our common parent, having at the same time become a married man.
It must be admitted that from the very start I found wedlock infinitely more agreeable than tilling the soil.
My previous almost nomadic style of existence had to a great measure incapacitated me for this wearisomely primitive style of life. It was of no use trying to relish it. Luckily, there are all sorts of temperaments in this world, or what would humanity do for wheat, corn, and garden-stuff. My nature was decidedly not adapted to raising them.
My wife saw my utter incapability as a farmer. She was a good little soul, and frequently condoled with me on it.