There being so little rain here, there are no stagnant waters to poison the air; and the atmosphere being so dry substances do not rot, but simply wither, dry up, and blow away. Carcasses will sometimes lie for several years before the hide is broken. There are, consequently, no noxious substances to impart their impurities, and the air is left perfectly wholesome. The buzzard and blow-fly have no putrefying masses to hover over, and are consequently not known here. Fresh meat can be hung up in the open air, without salt, and it will dry out sweet and beautiful; hence, the West for health. For pulmonary troubles, this pure, dry atmosphere is the balm of life; and there are numbers of healthy and happy persons in the West to-day, rejoicing and praising the western angel who snatched them from the brink of eastern graves.
But to go back. I said we calculated to go into business in the valley for the winter; and so we did. Charles turned cow-boy, and stayed at the home ranch during the winter; Dave and John were employed at the round-house; and, seeing a chance to make money yet another way, I built a trading-house upon the prairie at the end of the railway-section at Granada, where stand a few little houses. I stocked with blankets, rough clothing, hats, boots, flour, corn, tobacco, cigars, etc. A small space was partitioned off at one end for a bar-room, and I hired a well-known and influential cow-boy to attend to this, not thinking the latter an honorable part of my business, to Ohio eyes, but aware that if a person wants to sell in any country he must keep what the people want to buy; for otherwise he is not patronized. My customers were cow-boys, Mexicans, Indians, emigrants, and the few settlers in the valley. Of course, one would naturally expect lively times once in awhile, under such circumstances; but I could smell the money in the air.
Myself and my hands were largely acquainted with the boys; and they came in from all directions, saying that they wanted to spend their money with us. The bar-keeper was admired by all the boys; and having great influence over them, he seldom had much trouble. I bought furs from the Indians and hunters, and realized large profits. Taking strips of bright-colored calicoes, I tied them in bunches; and the Indian being great for dashing colors, a few cents’ worth of calico bought many an Indian fur. They are also slaves to tobacco and whisky; and it was seldom they took money away, no matter how many furs they brought in. They never wanted to sell, but to trade.
The boys here are very curious about luxuries and oddities; and I used to have much sport with them. One time I sent to Kansas City for a keg of pickled pig’s-feet; and when there were a good many boys in I opened it. After the boys found that they were good, I sold half a keg, at fifteen cents apiece, before I stopped. It was amusing to see them running round, each with a pig’s-foot in his hand. At another time I bought a number of large silk neck-ties; and after selling one, I sold the whole lot the same day for one dollar and seventy-five cents apiece. They tied them round their necks, and used them for hat-bands. Of course the profits were large upon all sales, and I made money fast. This was in the winter of 1878-9,—the time of the great excitement and emigration to Leadville,—and being right on the route, from fifty to seventy-five wagons daily passed my place for a couple of months. The weather was usually bad and the traveling hard; and most every one of the outfits needing something in my line, my sales ran from seventy-five to one hundred and fifty dollars per day for several weeks. I shall leave the reader to guess at the margins, and only say that we did not deal in nickels. We were all now located at the same place, and were making money; and many a fine old time we had together in that old Arkansas valley.
We and several other persons kept a pack of greyhounds, and we often went out for a chase. When wanting a chase, each boy going would saddle a good pony, and, with the hounds trained to stay close in the rear, we would ride out over the plain, looking cautiously for a flock of antelopes, deer, a jack-rabbit, or a wolf. When a flock of antelopes or deer is seen, the riders take advantage of the hills and ravines and get just as close as possible without being discovered; then, turning the hounds loose, away they go with the speed of the wind. If the hounds are well bred, and can be gotten within a quarter before beginning the chase, they will usually be successful; otherwise the fleet animals are likely to escape.
The antelope, as has been said, is a very vigilant and spirited animal; and as they bound away in the chase they almost baffle the eye. They always try to run down hill; and as they seldom run straight very far, the riders can cut across and keep near all the time, and often run into the flock without going half as far as the hounds. A flock of antelopes flying over the plain, with a pack of hounds close in the rear, and followed by excited horsemen hallooing and flying their hats, is truly a grand sight as well as an agreeable sport. The chase is sometimes short, and sometimes ten miles long; and I have rode among a flock when they were trotting slowly along, with mouths wide open, and the hounds within ten steps coming slowly along, with their great red tongues lolling out. A well-bred buck antelope is a little more than the average greyhound can overtake. The antelope is swifter than the deer. Sometimes a large, well-developed jack-rabbit jumps up; and when he lays his long ears back upon his neck and gets down to his best he goes like the news upon a telegraph-wire—only touching the high places—and appears like a row of jack-rabbits. He can outrun the antelope for a short distance, but can not hold out so long. When a large gray wolf is started up there is fun. The dogs soon overtake him; but to kill him is another thing. I have seen one wolf whip six hounds, and get away. Hunters do not like to have their hounds tackle a large one, for he cuts them up so.
The cow-men and homesteaders are often visited by their eastern friends, and these chases are grand sport for them. I recollect that one time two young fellows came out to visit their brother in his little adobe in the valley; and learning of the sport, they were overanxious for a chase. They asked us to take them out; and finding that they were plug-hatted, nickel-plated fellows, with lots of conceit, we concluded to have some fun. They bragged of their riding ability, and being thus relieved of the responsibility of breaking a couple of tender-foot necks, we brought up two spirited ponies used to the chase,—and one a professional bucker when he took a notion,—and he would often take a notion in the heat of the chase. The silk-hats, broadcloth, and kid-gloves glistened in the sunlight, and their heads stuck up through the glazed standing-collars; and as we pranced out upon the range I could hardly conceal my laughter when I thought of the fun to come. All at once a powerful jack-rabbit jumped from a bunch of grass and sped away like the wind. The hounds flashed by and were gone, and the ponies needed no urging. In a few hundred yards the man on the bucker touched his pony too far back with his foot; and Jerusalem! to see that pony buck was a caution. The first jump the old plug-hat rolled off over the sand like a cannon-ball upon Lookout Mountain, the collar flew open, and the breeches burst; the next he was popping a foot above the saddle with his coat-tail playing in the air like the national flag; and the next he was picking himself out of the sand, limping around on one leg, pulling up his breeches, wiping the blood from his nose, and speaking the Colorado dialect as nearly as possible, while the pony ran off in the chase. The other kiddy, finding that he could not hold his pony, had let go the rein and was holding to the saddle-horn with his legs spread out like the holy cross, and his horse just flying. He ran among the hounds; and the rabbit turning short, the pony gave one stiff jump, whirled upon his hind feet, and ran on. The plug-hat flew, the rider scooted forward, tearing open his vest and pants upon the saddle-horn, and holding around the horse’s neck with a death-grip. The next turn the second kid-glove went scooting his nose in the sand and his heels in the air. We saw that they were not killed, and ran on. After we had the rabbit we took a hearty laugh, and then caught the ponies and went back for the good riders, who had stopped to rest. The classic language had flown, and they were together brushing off their plugs and knocking the sand from their ears, and talking in such language that any Colorado boy could understand every word they said. Well, there was no fun in the chase for them, so we went back and the boys “set ’em up.” The stiffening was from their collars, and the conceit from their minds; and I’ll bet if an eastern man tells them that he can ride any Colorado pony, they will say to themselves, “He’s a liar.” The ways of the people and even the horses of Colorado have to be learned; and to a fresh eastern man it is a big lesson.
A man and wife by the name of Mills, passing here en route for Leadville, being a little short in finance, and finding that employment could be had at the round-house, concluded to put up in a little board shanty that stood near my place, and work a few days. That very night several cow-boys came in, and, as usual, did considerable yelling and shooting. In the morning, finding six bullet-holes through his house, he related his night’s adventure, and told how he and his wife had propped the doors and then lay behind the stove, and said he would not stay in that house and run his chances for the whole d——n round-house. So, taking his outfit, he moved across the railroad a half mile down the river, and there put up a tent for his house. That afternoon a few cow-boys came in, and the sheriff and two deputies from Las Animas happening to be there, a trouble arose and the boys rode out and charged upon the house. Firing commenced, and the sheriff, with a large needle-gun, shot dead one of the ponies, leaving its rider dismounted. He ran right down the railroad toward the tent; and in firing after him a bullet went through the tent, and several others buzzed by. This was too much for the man in the tent, and he started back East that very night by the light of the moon. He said if a man could not even live in a tent out on the prairie without being shot at every day and night, he had enough of the West.
Well, things went on, and toward spring my brother came out from Ohio for his health. When the fur-season was going out, and the Leadville travelers began to drop off, I sold out and began to prepare for a trip into the mountains. My brother enjoyed the light, pure air and western novelties, and decided to go along. Another young man named William Gray, from Sutton, Nebraska, also decided to go. My old camp-outfit was trimmed up, and everything was prepared to make the trip a pleasant as well as an instructive one. Friend Charles had been called home to Ohio by the illness of his father, and Dave and John decided to stay in Colorado, and not go any farther west. It was quite shocking to me to think of going on and leaving behind my old comrades, with whom I had traveled so many days, and eaten so many meals in our little camp up and down through the broad, wild West; and especially John, who started with me from Ohio, and sat with me upon the lonely plains in the bleak winds of winter, and sultry breath of summer; whose tongue parched with mine upon the desert, and who fought the same hungry pangs—one who had proved himself a noble and gallant companion, and brave in the hour of trial. But it must be done; and after giving each other our best advice, we took a long good-bye—perhaps forever.
That parting I shall not forget,
Though I live to be aged and gray;
For comrade ties did scarcely let
Me tear from them away.