The Western Echo / A Description of the Western State and Territories of the United States. As Gathered in a Tour by Wagon

by George W. Romspert

We took advantage of the buffaloes that came among the river-hills near our camp, and in a couple of days we had a load of meat, consisting of shoulder-clods, saddles, humps, and tongues; and Dave and myself started north to the Arkansas Valley to sell out, while John and Charles stayed in camp. We made it to Bear Creek in one day, Butte Creek the next, and the third day about noon we came to the railroad. There were many emigrants going up the valley to the mountains, and to these and the settlers we had no trouble in disposing of our load at five cents per pound. The load brought us just fifty dollars.

We found it a little unhandy to have our grub and cooking outfit scattered promiscuously through the wagon, and I thought it would be nice and convenient to have a mess-box. So, the morning that we started back for camp we passed by a neat little adobe house, and we stopped to ask the man for his doors, to make a mess-box. There was no one about, so we took off the only two doors and drove on. Dave, with all his Methodist Episcopal modesty,—which he had forgotten to leave at home,—said it was not right to take the doors; but I told him that I was a member of the Colorado State Board of Equalization; and a house without doors was still better than doors without a house. This was downright hunter’s logic.

We camped at Butte Creek for the night, and in the evening we worked up the doors. We made a cupboard three feet high, as wide as the wagon-bed, and fourteen inches deep; and then boxed and shelved it to suit our needs, leaving a space to the right large enough for a fifty-pound sack of flour, and in the bottom of the cupboard a space for the bread-pan, oven, frying-pan, etc. The rest was partitioned off in smaller spaces for pepper, salt, baking-powder, etc. Then, taking out the end-gate, we set the cupboard in the back part of the wagon and passed the bed-rods through it, and it was fastened. We then made a door large enough to cover the face of the cupboard, and with the hinges that we had saved from the doors hinged it to the bottom of the wagon-bed; and making a latch to the top of the cupboard, with a piece of calf-hide and a pin, the box was neatly finished. I then cut off a stick the height of the bottom of the wagon-bed, and wiring it to the door where it was latched, the thing was completed. The lid could be unlatched, and, coming down, it would rest upon the stake, and there was a table, and everything in the mess-chest was clean and handy. This arrangement was so splendid that a broad grin came over Dave’s face in spite of his conscience.

The next morning we arose and started for Bear Creek, reaching it just at sunset. Wishing to give our team as much range as possible without leaving them entirely free (and having no hobbles), we took a picket-rope about thirty feet long and tied one end around each horse’s neck. We thought they would hardly stray far from camp; and after watching them for a while, and discovering that they never both took a notion to go the same way, we felt that they were secure, and after supper lay down for the night. The weather was warm, the evening was beautiful, and our sleep was sweet. At daylight I arose to look for the horses. I went among the hills and upon the highest bluffs, and peered in every direction; but there was not a horse in sight. We tried to track them, but they had no shoes on, and their tracks could not be distinguished from those of the wild herds. After hunting among the hills and down the ravines until noon, we concluded that they must have gone back to the railroad to tell the fellow who took his doors. We had left the riding ponies at the camp upon the Cimaron, and we were now left afoot. We had turned them upon the north side of the creek, and not being able to find where they had crossed over to the south, our suspicion was strengthened; and taking a few biscuits in our pockets, with compass in hand, we struck northward across the thirty-mile stretch of dry plains for Butte Creek. We had nothing to carry water in, and a pint of brandy was all we took to drink.

The afternoon was very warm, and the sand was burning hot. The brandy tasted like sugar-water, and was gone before we had traveled five miles. We became very dry when we were about midway; but the dwellings and shade trees were very scarce in that country, and we were compelled to stand it. One of my boots rubbed a great blister upon my heel, and I pulled the boot off and went barefooted. The foot soon became sore upon the scorching sand, and tearing a sleeve from my hunting-coat I tied it around my foot for a moccasin. All animals range along the water, feeding out from five to eight miles; and there were several miles of our journey upon which there was not an animal or insect, and the country was level as a floor. We sat down now and then to rest; but it was a rather uncomfortable rest. We were compelled to walk very rapidly to reach water that night; and as we rushed along, the bright sun and the heat that curled from the hot sand almost blinded us.

Once, while we were sitting down, we saw something that looked like horses far to the north, and taking our glass we fully convinced ourselves that we were right; for we could plainly see them walking along tied together. We kept our eyes upon them, and in two hundred yards we came upon two old buffalo bones, which the mirage had loomed up into large objects. We then saw how mirage could deceive, especially when aided by imagination.

The walk would have been nothing if we could have had water; but I tell you we were pretty well dried out when a little after sunset we came among the Bear Creek hills. A little stream came crystalling down from a spring away up in the bluff; and after drinking of its beautiful waters and taking a good wash, we looked around for the horses, knowing that if they had struck the creek they would not leave the water for several hours at least. Anxious to intercept their further travel to the north, we went up and down the creek by the moonlight for several miles; but no horses.

We came upon an old picket cow-ranch among the hills, and concluded to stop there until morning. We were met at the door by three or four skunks, which in spite cf our friendly salute opened a double-barrel fire upon us with their heads the other way. They were very obstinate, and we were compelled to kill them. We then had control of the shanty, which smelled like a reservoir of cologne for the rest of the night. There was a little stone fireplace in one end of the house, and we built a fire to keep away the wolves and skunks. We had no blankets, but were doing very well, when about eleven o’clock the wind arose and it turned cold. We then needed a fire; but the little trees were mostly green, and there was no loose wood, and we had no ax. There were two holes for windows and a big place for a door, and these being open the cold wind went howling through our house like a breeze from the north pole. The house was made with poles put in the ground close together, and we began at the door to tear out the posts for fuel. The wind blew colder and colder, and toward morning a light snow fell. There was very little of the house left when the morning dawned, and we could not help thinking of the man along the Arkansas who was living in the house that belonged to our doors. We had not seen any game, so a biscuit was our breakfast. We felt first-rate, but one of my feet being one blister from heel to toe, and the other terribly rubbed, a long walk was to me a little disagreeable; and I determined to patronize the first shoe-maker I crossed.

The morning was very cool, and we thought it best for Dave to return to the wagon at Bear Creek, and I would go to the river; and if our team had not come up there I was to buy another and return. I had torn the sleeves from my coat, and Dave had given me a large handkerchief. With these I wrapped my feet; but they were so terribly sore and swelled that I could scarcely stand. Dave dashed to the south with his compass in one hand and his rifle in the other, and I hobbled to the north. I broke myself two canes; and after I got warmed up I flew rapidly along, and came into Granada at nine o’clock. I found out that day that our horses had not been seen; so in the evening I bought two good ponies, and in the morning started for Bear Creek. A little before sunset I came among the hills, and struck the creek a mile below the wagon. On my way up I came upon Dave in a deep ravine, roasting a piece of a deer he had killed. I brought a quart of pepper-sauce along down from Granada, and this, with a good square mess of roast venison, made us feel first-rate. We sat around the fire talking and chatting and broiling venison most of the night; and there was not much of the deer-saddle left in the morning. We then hooked up our ponies; and though they were a little wild, we went prancing along for the Cimaron. We came into camp at sunset and found the boys well, but very uneasy lest we had lost our compass and become bewildered, or had been cut off by the Indians. We had exchanged teams, and had a great deal of promiscuous experience since we parted; and this, with the story of the cupboard, furnished enough narrative with which to interest John and Charles the greater part of the night. Charles said it was all right to take the doors if there were no ready-made cupboard in the house; otherwise, it was a sin (in Colorado). We spread our blankets and lay down late in the night, and slept sweetly. We arose at the dawning of the morn, and after a good mess of buffalo-meat, with nice warm biscuits, we went out in the soft morning air. As we stood upon the hill-side at the river’s edge, the zephyrs fanned us like the breath of heaven; and the sun, as it rolled from the eastern sky, appeared to us more majestic than ever before. Away down the valley we could see the buffaloes feeding upon the rich pasture; and upon the brow of a hill to the south were two large wolves, feasting upon an antelope they had just killed. In our native Ohio we had seen the buffalo behind the strong high fence, and the wolf in the iron cage; but here they were with their wild neighbors in the garden of nature, ruminating in the free, open air. The scene was striking; and it was all natural; the hand of man had not figured there; and though far from civilization, we felt happy, and the Cimaron waters appeared to smile upon us as they hurried by.

We spent a few days in exploring the surrounding country, and went far up and down the river acquainting ourselves with the hills and valleys.