Our hunger slightly appeased, we returned to the ravine in which the water was so plentiful, staked our horses to graze, and at once commenced gathering in our meat, cooking, and eating all the time, till our appetites were entirely satisfied. One thing that marred the delicacy of the meat, was the fact that we were without salt. While crossing the desert, mountains of the article reared their heads around us, but we were without meat; now meat lay in profusion about us, but we were without salt.
Ourselves and horses rested, we resumed our march, and after traveling about five miles, reached the Big Washita river. Here we halted, for a rest of five days, which we spent in hunting. We had jerked meat for bread, and fresh meat for beef; feasted continually on elk, deer, antelope, and wild turkey. During these five days of carousal, the sufferings on the desert were forgotten; and at the end of that time, fully restored to our wonted vigor, we resumed our march.
The direct route would have taken us across another desert; but we had had experience enough on them, and we therefore determined to follow the watercourses, though they were ever so circuitious. We accordingly kept down the Big Washita, till we reached the point where the Belknap and Radziminski roads cross, when we left it, and started direct for our place of destination, distant seventy-five miles. Our route lay through a good country, with plenty of game, and we fared, like the rich man—sumptously every day—but only on meat; and therefore the reader may imagine our joy, on reaching the Little Washita, at meeting a wagon loaded with flour and bacon, with two ovens and two skillets. What visions of bread once more arose before us! and how soon we were at work, kneading the dough! Our readers who are initiated into the mysteries of cooking, may form some idea of the bread we made, under all the disadvantages that surrounded us; but it was bread, and was a feast to us. Weeks had intervened since we had tasted aught but flesh; and now we baked and ate, and ate and baked, till all were fit subjects for the hospital, and some came near finding the graveyard. Orders to march next day, found not a man free from colic, or dysentery; though a few were able to travel, and they traveled. Every mile or so, a man would drop out; and when we reached the end of our day's journey, of twenty-five miles, there were but few men with us; yet the stragglers finally all came in and reported, though it is wonderful that some did not die by the wayside.
The next day was one long to be remembered by every ranger, as it was the last of that ill-started campaign. Dirty, ragged, long haired, unshaven, and generally barefooted, we reached Belknap on the 30th of October, 1860; and immediately we were mustered out, and paid in scrip, which is now worth less than nothing; but which, had not the state gone into rebellion, would have ultimately secured us fifty-two dollars a month in gold.
CHAPTER XI.
KNIGHTS OF THE GOLDEN CIRCLE—SECESSION.
Having been honorably discharged, the rangers began to scatter to their homes. Many had friends in the vicinity, who came after them with wagons; refusing to let them ride their war ponies, but leading these home in triumph, decked with flowers and ribbons. Parting among the men, rough as they were, gave rise to many affecting scenes. Hardy warriors wept like children, as they separated from the companions of their hardships and dangers. Truly, it might have been said of us that we were a band of brothers then; but how soon—such is human nature—to become deadly enemies!
I had enlisted at Waco, two hundred miles away, and had no means of reaching that place except on foot; and learning this, Colonel Smith tendered me a horse, but he was wild, having only been caught that spring, when we made our hunt up the Canadian. He was remarkably fleet on foot when in the wild herd; no less than sixty horses having been run after him—first all at a dash. In the race we had roped all the mares, when he came back to fight us, trying first to drive the mares, and then the men, away. Failing in both of these purposes, he dashed around and around in a circle, always eluding the rope, though thrown by our best horsemen; and in this way, he baffled us till our own horses were worn out; when, finally, an Indian, named Bob, shot him just between the last two short ribs, and let the ball range forward into the stomach—a process known among the savages as "creasing," and is frequently employed with success; and it is a far safer way than shooting them in the neck, as is sometimes done. Nevertheless, it is a barbarous proceeding, and could only be adopted by those devoid of every quality of mercy.