The winter before I met him, he had spent on a ranch in the range country of Montana, and the spring he passed trapping fur bearing animals in the wildest parts of the Rocky Mountains. Even in his old age he could, it was said, handle a rifle and pistol to perfection and could sit a bronco as long as the next man. Such was the Honorable Colonel Dunn.
The three cattlemen were "Yorky Kid," "Cockney," and "Willie off the Yacht." "Yorky Kid" was a young fellow of twenty, born in New York and who took to beating trains at the early age of twelve. Before he was sixteen he had traveled in every state and territory of the Union; and while with us he was making his fourth voyage across the Atlantic. He was a fairly decent looking chap, big hearted and generous.
"The Cockney" was, without a doubt, the most broken down piece of humanity I have ever seen. Born in England, he emigrated to the States in the early seventies, since then he had been in Baltimore, begging, and, I presume, stealing whatever came in his way. He was a bony, puny, yellow complexioned fellow, with black piercing eyes and dark hair. He was an inveterate cigarette smoker, besides being death on any kind of intoxicating drinks, from the raw alcohol down.
"Willie off the Yacht" was a character worthy of study. I knew by his speech and manners that he was not an ordinary individual. By close questioning I found out something of his past, though he was extremely shy about referring to anything concerning the bygone days. Born in a little inland town of Maryland, the son of a poor man, he prepared for college by push and perseverance.
Believing that New York offered many opportunities for a lawyer, he decided to practice there. Within ten years he had a law practice which brought him annually a comfortable income. Seven years later he drew from his bank a sum which represented the savings of years, and with this he began to play the wheel of chance. As fate would have it, he lost. Disappointed and heart sick, he drifted to the bad, and from bad to worse until he became nothing but a mere hobo with an alcoholic brain and parched lungs.
On the thirteenth day out we sighted land on the Irish coast, and I can truthfully say it looked good to me and was a welcome sight to all aboard. As we traveled onward we could see the land more plainly until at last we were able to sight distinctly three mountains, in bold outline against the sky, the Calf, the Cow, and the Bull.
We steamed along the Irish coast for several hundred miles and old castles dotted along the hilltops and sides overlooking the sea were refreshing sights. In the afternoon, about five o'clock, we unloaded our cattle three miles from Liverpool and by eleven we were docked.
In Europe! Goodness, it seemed like a dream to think that what we had always longed for had become a reality. At Liverpool we rested a few days, and "stall fed" till we were in trim; then we put out to see what there was to be seen on the other side of the pond.
It would be useless for me to attempt to describe everything of interest we saw for the sights have been described half a hundred times over by others. At any rate, there was very little we missed, for we were all very energetic, and if there was anything to see we certainly were not going to miss it.