"Oh, that's 'asy," replied Jack. "You see, ould Ireland is a sea-girt isle an' is visited by ships of various nations, an' now an' then some foreign sailor, in an Irish port, falls in love with an Irish girl an' marries her, an' the childther, of course, will bear the foreigner's name, though they be as Irish as Paddy's pigs."
"Well, that is a reasonable explanation of a question that has occasioned me a good deal of speculation," I answered, "and, accepting your solution of the problem, my mind will be much easier in the future."
At these roadside ranches, which had sprung up at every important camping place along the road since the Pike's Peak gold discovery, liquor was sold and a small general assortment kept of such goods as were in demand by travellers.
No attempt was made to cultivate the soil or raise crops; they were there merely for the trade of the road and—at points farther out—for Indian trade. They also bought worn-out stock from passing outfits and, after resting and recruiting such animals, sold them to other travellers needing fresh animals.
The Santa Fé mail contractors, Hall & Porter, of Independence, Missouri, had established stations at certain ranches, but beyond Council Grove there were, as yet, no regular eating or lodging stations for passengers in the mail-coaches. They had to carry their own bedding and take camp fare with the mail hands—two drivers and a conductor to each coach.
At Cottonwood Creek, the next camp west of Lost Springs, we began to see buffalo—a few straggling old bulls at some distance from the road—but as yet no herds. By the time we had reached the Little Arkansas small bands became more numerous and neighborly; and from there on the herds grew larger, till by the time we reached the vicinity of Fort Larned—much later—dense masses of them were to be seen in every direction.
As far west as Lost Springs we found multitudes of prairie-chickens along the road and our shotgun kept our mess supplied with fresh meat. From Lost Springs westward we saw no more prairie-chickens, but as we soon reached the buffalo range we killed young buffalo or antelope.
In running buffalo we used the black horse, Jack's capture, and although at first somewhat shy of the brown, woolly monsters, he soon got used to them and evinced keen interest in the chase.
In killing a buffalo for fresh meat we usually selected a yearling or two-year-old, to insure tender meat, and cut out only a few pounds of the choicest parts from the carcass, buffalo being so plenty that we seldom thought of the wastefulness of this then common practice.
Antelope, the fleetest and most graceful animal on the plains, could seldom be overhauled by a mounted man, but their inquisitiveness was so great that they would often, in herds of a dozen or more, approach our camp through curiosity; and if they did not come close enough to suit us, by displaying a red blanket we could lure them on, almost close enough to knock them over with a stick. Their meat is tender and well flavored, but at certain seasons there is little fat on it and a little bacon cooked with it improves it.