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

The country was very rough; but we kept along the river, and in a few days were in Santa Fe, the capital of New Mexico, and the terminus of the Atchison, Topeka & Santa Fe Railroad. The town is located among the hills, and stage-roads are worn deep in several directions. The old, abandoned Santa Fe trail, which we had crossed so many times in our hunts, wound like a serpent down the hill-side into the town. It had been some time since we had seen frame houses, and they appeared to us as grand as Roman cathedrals; and for several days we enjoyed the novelty of civilization very much. There were large stock-yards here, and many thousand head are annually shipped from this place. Stock-raising and mining are all that can be done among these hills and bluffs.

We now steered due north and came into the valley of the Rio Grande del Norte. We found great herds of cattle here, feeding over this pretty, rich range; and there were many little ranches upon the banks of the river.

We then struck north-east, passing by the Fishery Peak and going up the Purgatory River to the Arkansas. We felt as though we were at home when we stood upon the green bank of this river; and the settlers—especially the girls—with whom we had become acquainted prior to our going south, were apparently glad to see us back, and welcomed us to their little adobe homes and rustic hospitalities.

It was now late in the month of September, and we concluded to go into some kind of business and stay in the valley that winter. We had now gone over a great territory of prairie; and the brief history of our travels has perhaps given the reader a faint idea of the nature of the country and the occupations of the people. But the whole country,—the climate, the inhabitants, and their occupations,—is so different from the states—as called by western men—that it is difficult, even with the most minute description, to conceive of the great country of the plains as it really is without visiting this curious land.

We have stated that we left the agricultural land in east Nebraska and Kansas, and that then before us stretched the historical plains—the fountain of mysteries and the land of secrets. Imagine a great country, consisting of many states and territories, and containing millions of acres, with not even the smallest tree or bush, but covered with buffalo-grass, which grows about six inches high and then curls up, forming a mattress about three inches thick. Through this mighty dry domain course the rivers as marked upon the map. The banks are usually—though not always—skirted with a light growth of cotton-wood trees; and the valleys are narrow, and fringed upon either side by great bluffs whose foot-hills usually roll some distance into the plain. Now, between these rivers there is very often a stretch of several hundred miles, and sometimes not a drop of water; but usually there is water to be found in drives of fifty and one hundred miles—sometimes closer and sometimes much farther. These little waters are very seldom running streams, but are small pools standing in deep gulches, and sometimes a little lake resting in a small bowl at the foot of a bluff. The country is always rough where there is water; and old plainers can always tell when they are near it. The gulches that have water standing in them, like the rivers, usually have small trees also. Now, between these waters the plain is generally almost as level as a floor; and standing there, the horizon looks perfectly round. Along the waters the grass is thick and luxuriant, but gradually grows shorter as you leave; and the long, dry stretches are often very lightly covered. As you travel along over the level plains it appears as though there is a raise just ahead all the time; and where it looks level as a floor there are often great gulches which can not be seen until coming almost upon their very banks. Sometimes you will come into several miles of very soft sand, with hardly a spire of grass upon it. Now, persons who understand this country know just where the waters lie, and prepare for the trip; and very often where another person would perish they could find water in a few hundred yards under a rock at the foot of a hill.

There is much mirage upon the plains, and it is much worse some days than others. It looks as though there were a pretty, rolling river, or sometimes a large lake, but a mile or so off. Nothing is plainer; and the imitation is so complete that old plainers are sometimes deceived in a country they do not know. It is caused from an unequal refraction of the lower stratums of the atmosphere; and when animals are in it they are loomed up to twice their natural height. An antelope is often taken for a buffalo, and sometimes a bone or a buffalo-chip looks like an animal. Objects often appear inverted. To a tender-foot the deception is often so complete that many a poor, perishing person, in whose eyes were fast gathering the shades of death, exhausted his last efforts in trying to reach the imaginary river, and his last breaths were drawn in the belief that he was dying within sight of the cool, flowing waters. I had read many stirring stories of this country, and had often heard of the strange peculiarities to be witnessed and experienced here; but, though my imaginings were extensive, I had never indulged in delusion sufficient to think of the country in anything near its reality. Ah! many a skeleton lies bleaching upon the hill-side, with no tomb-stone to tell its name or age nor any one to tell the secret of his death. I have often thought that if the Angel of Death would read to the world his prairie record some of the accounts would swell the heart of the most calloused desperado and wring a tear from the wickedest eye.

The legends of the plains are numerous, and persons who have never been here would naturally consider them fabulous, and the most gross exaggerations; but I know now, from experience, that the worst is reasonable. From the country being all alike, and no objects to guide the way,—no, not even a weed, or the smallest bush, or distinguishable hill or valley,—when persons once lose their way they are as completely lost as though they were as blind as a granite monument fifty miles from living man. It is somewhat singular, but it is a fact many times verified, that usually when persons lose their way in this country their minds wander, and they do not even recognize their own camps when they come in sight of them. It appears that the average person is so horrified at the thought of being lost and alone in a broad wild country, where the wild beast growls among the hills, and where the dry sands reflect perishment into their very eyes, and no one to direct their course, that the effect is natural.

A story is told of an outfit crossing over a dry prairie in the pan-handle country. The first night out from water a young man who had lately come from the states went out among the hills with his rifle to look for deer. He did not know the danger, and unconsciously wandered a mile away. When the sun was getting low he turned for camp. It appeared to him as plainly as the hills before him, that to turn back was to go toward camp. So, turning to his left, he took down a ravine, still looking for game, and sure that he was near camp. On he went, and the sun sunk low in the horizon. Soon darkness veiled the day, and he was still out, and had walked many miles. He drew out his compass; but he did not know whether he was north, south, east, or west from camp, and thrilled with the thought of his probable condition, he became completely bewildered and walked rapidly all night. The camp was in a deep ravine, and the boys supposing their tender-foot companion to be lost, went to the top of a hill and built a large fire with buffalo-chips, and fired their guns and loudly hallooed; but all to no purpose. In the morning search was made. The country was sandy and lightly covered with grass, and he could be trailed. Two of the boys, well mounted, started in pursuit. They followed to the east about a mile, and then winding to the south about a mile and a half he made a complete circle of about two miles, and went around three times almost in the same tracks, and then started off zigzag to the west. About noon an object was seen seated upon the side of a hill in the distance, and hurrying up the lost John was found. He had become completely deranged, and had torn every vestige of clothing from his body, and was holding the compass in his hand. He was so completely bewildered that he did not even recognize his own comrades, and it was several hours before his mind regained its equilibrium and he fully comprehended his position. He then said that it seemed as though camp must be near and could be readily found; but when he once became convinced that he was lost, he became so completely bewildered that the compass was no more use to him than a box without a needle. He said the hills and valleys all looked alike, and there was not a bush, or weed, or anything whatever to mark his course, much less a neighbor to direct the way.

This is only one of hundreds of cases; and I have heard of persons horribly mutilating themselves in their mad agonies. The facts given are perfectly credible, for I have felt their force by experience. I recollect that one warm spring morning in south Colorado, the fog hung over the prairie like the mist upon the ocean, and a horse could be distinguished but a few hundred yards. I had stayed all night with some cow-boys on Bear Creek, and saddling my pony I started out among the bluffs to steer my way over the plain to our camp upon the Cimaron, thirty miles below. I had no compass with me, but I had crossed the country so often that I thought it would be no trouble, even in the midst of the mighty fog, to grope my way. I had scarcely left the cotton-wood tops in the mist when I came to another creek. This seemed very strange, for I only knew of one creek in the country; but not willing to believe that I was again crossing Bear Creek, I kept pushing on. I saw some men camped in a ravine just below, and saw their horses grazing among the hills; but I thought they must be hunters, and the creek must be one that I had not seen. I went on until I had crossed six creeks; and I made up my mind that there was something wrong, and that I must be circling my own camp on Bear Creek. I had lost the location of the boys I saw awhile ago, and I rode down to the stream, and to save my life I could not tell which way the water ran. I dismounted and set my rifle on the ground, and before my left foot was removed from the stirrup the pony became frightened and dashed away. Losing my grip upon the horn I was jerked down, and the horse started off kicking down the creek. He dragged me about fifty yards, and I began to think it did not make much difference which way the water ran, when I succeeded in getting a square kick at the stirrup with my right foot, and luckily out it came. The pony, now free, ran off down the creek. After following him about three miles, I came into the camp of an old hunter (Barney Gowe), whom I had not met for some months. My pony stopped with his horses and was easily captured. I then asked Barney where I was, and he thought I was codding him; but becoming convinced of my situation he laughed heartily and told me to stay for dinner and the world would turn right side up again after awhile. It was full two hours before all was right, and all at once the whole valley appeared natural. There were the little stone monuments upon the bluffs above to guide the hunter and cow-men, and which had directed me many a time. The little trees, whose very limbs I now recognized, looked as of old, and the little stream, as it rippled along, seemed to laugh at the strange conduct of its old friend. I was three miles below where I stayed all night; and I had been rounding my own camp four or five times, and did not recognize it nor the boys. They said they saw me going around and did not know what I meant. The next morning the fog had cleared away and the trip was made without difficulty. I only mention these facts to more fully picture in the imagination of the reader the country with its attending circumstances and peculiarities as it really is, and to warn those who read these lines that should they ever become bewildered and lost in this desert land to be calm, keep possession of their mind, and sit down until the country turns around again.

After explaining the nature of the country, the reader can now perhaps better understand the sports and occupations as they are hereinafter explained. There are often car-loads of mustang ponies shipped to the states; and people wonder how they are captured—some supposing that they are caught with the lasso. I can say that there are few wild horses caught with the lariat, and they are only captured by the hunter hiding himself at the water and catching them as they come down to drink, or by taking advantage of the ground and making an angling run upon the herd and cutting them off. Blooded horses have been brought to this country for this sport, and it has been found that the fleetest horse can seldom succeed in bringing his rider to the side of a fully grown mustang. These animals are found in several of the western states and territories, along the waters of the wild lands. There are usually between twenty and fifty in a herd, but I have known one hundred to be in a single herd. Each herd has a distinct range, usually about ten miles across, and which they can seldom be forced to leave. There are some very fine-looking animals in these wild gangs, and as they dash over the range their manes waive back over their rumps, and their tails spread gracefully after them. I saw a Mexican capture a fine iron-gray stallion that (perhaps in scratching his head) had caught his hind foot in his long entangled mane.