So ended one of the most sanguinary cattle wars that the West has ever witnessed. All that remains to-day to recall it is a group of bullet-scarred buildings, surrounded by weed-grown rifle-pits, some two hours’ ride south-east of Buffalo, near the junction of Muddy Creek with the north fork of the Crazy Woman.
THE WIDE WORLD: In Other Magazines
A HETEROGENEOUS COLLECTION.
For one wishing to study the ways of the lowest dregs of this earth, I would advise him to give the slums of London a rest, and watch the throngs who besiege the offices of the agents who undertake to supply the cattlemen with help at Montreal. German and Russian Jews, Dukhobhors, Italians, negroes, Dr. Barnardo boys, homesick for their beloved slums; broken-down “sharks” and “confidence men” from the large cities of the States; one-time moneyed youths from the larger English towns, who have run through the capital given them to start in business, and are returning on the chance of getting more. All bustling and hustling each other after the same prize—a free passage to London, the home, and often the grave, of the desperate.—“THE CAPTAIN.”
TRAVELLING IN ICELAND.
By the average individual (unless he happens to be a salmon-fisher) Iceland is imagined to be a place somewhere within the region of the Arctic Circle and to be a land of eternal winter. The fishing enthusiast knows it only as a paradise of his craft and values it accordingly. Some tourists visit the island for a week or so in summer, and get as far as Thingvellir, or if they are not too saddle-sore they may see Geysir. But only a very select few have travelled for weeks on the hardy little ponies and known to the full the exceeding delight of day after day spent in the wonderful Icelandic air and of riding through the green valleys and fording the numberless rivers and streams of Iceland. To those who can ride and are keen on an open-air life and who are lovers of scenery the island should appeal, and this should apply even more so to those tired of the ways of cities, for there are no railways in Iceland, no motors, and there were until very recently no telegraphs.—“WOMAN’S LIFE.”
A LUCKY FALL OF SNOW.
On the Trans-Siberian Railway not long ago some train-wreckers, anticipating the Continental express, had been busily engaged for some hours tearing up the permanent way. But, in the meantime, so heavy a fall of snow had occurred that the mail had been completely blocked some few miles before reaching the work of destruction. In this way the robbers were defeated of their prey, and the gangs of workmen who afterwards went out to clear the line discovered the damage on digging away the snow.—“TIT-BITS.”