"Yes, got a whole charge of quail shot slapped inter him. You see the way it was, wer this. Most every section has one or two scraggy, rattle-brained fellers, allers loungin' round, takin' free drinks, and starvin' ther families. Whar we come from was one of this sort, never of no account to no one. We had a temperance meetin' one day, and this Hib, as they called him, wer opposed to it. He was afraid they 'd shut up Old Bung's whisky shed. Well, we was all a gathered, listenin' to the serpent and its poisoned sting, and that sort o' thing, and had about concluded to go for Old Bung, when that contrairy, ornery Hib broke us up. He goes and gets a fresh coon skin, and sneaks all round the school-house, draggin' it arter him, and makin' a sort o' scented circle. Then he goes and gets Shed Tail there, who was powerful on coons, and sets him on that thar track. Shed give just one sniff, and opened right out. The way he shied round that school-house wer a sin. In five minutes, all the dogs of the village were at his heels, and goin' round that circle like the spokes in a wheel.
"It was just a round ring of the loudest yelling you ever heard. Every dog thought the one just ahead of him had the coon. All the meetin' folks come a pourin' out, with sticks and chairs, and what with beatin' and coaxin' they got all off the trail but old Shed. Half the people went to chasin' that dorg, while the balance held onto the others. But Shed just stuck to that coon track, like all possessed, dodgin' atween our legs, or sheerin' off, and catchin' ther trail agin just beyond. He finally upset Old Squire Bundy's wife, and the Squire got mad, and slapped some No. 7 into his ribs."
The shed-tail's owner, waxing more and more eloquent with his subject, had just commenced the narrative of another Indian battle in which his favorite had figured, when we became interested in a wordy political combat between Tenacious Gripe and a genuine specimen of the "reconstructed," the first and only one of that genus that we saw in Kansas. His clothes had the famous butternut dye, and his shirt bosom was mapped into numerous creeks and rivers by the brown stains of tobacco overflows. The dispute waxed warm, and grew more and more prolific of eloquence. At length, the reconstructed beat a retreat, and our orator was left in triumphant possession of the field.
Drawing fresh inspiration from his success, Gripe devoted another hour to an account of the early struggles in Kansas against these "mean whites." He gave us many vivid descriptions of the time when men died that their children might live. Among other relations was that of the expedition under Montgomery, to rescue the two companions of old John Brown from the prison at Charlestown, Virginia, a short time after the stern hero himself had there been hung.
The dozen of brave Kansas men interested in the enterprise reached Harrisburg, with their rifles taken apart and packed in a chest, and sent scouts into Virginia and Maryland. It was the middle of winter, and deep snow covered the ground. They intended, when passing among the mountains, to bear the character of a hunting party. Every member of that little band was willing to push on to Charlestown, notwithstanding the whole State of Virginia was on the alert, and pickets were thrown out as far even as Hagerstown, Maryland. The plan was, by a bold dash to capture the jail, and then, with the rescued men, make rapidly for the seaboard. Although the expedition failed, it gave the world a glimpse of that heroic western spirit which was not only willing to do battle upon its own soil, but content to turn back and meet Death half-way when comrades were in danger.
Gripe did not accompany the expedition. Yet he grew so eloquent over the deep snow that stretched drearily before the little band, the gloomy mountains which frowned down defiance, and the people, far more inhospitable than either, who stood behind the natural barriers, filled to fanaticism with suspicion, fear, and hate, that we were sorry he had not been of the party. A man of such congressional qualifications as were his, might have been able to steal even the prisoners.
On other matters of Kansas history, Gripe could speak from personal experience. He had twice entered the territory during the period when the Free State and pro-slavery forces were doing battle for it. In one instance, the journey had been overland through Missouri, and in the other, up the Missouri River. On the first occasion, he had suffered numberless indignities at the hands of border ruffians, and would have been killed, had there been any thing in the least degree stronger than suspicion for them to act upon. On the other trip, the steamboat was stopped at Lexington, and a pro-slavery mob boarded the vessel, and searched for arms. The whole fabric of Kansas material which Gripe wove for us that evening was figured all over with battles, and murders, and tar-and-feather diversions. Had we been writing a history of the State, we might have accumulated a fair share of the material then and there.
Another subject this evening discussed around our camp-fire was the future of the vast plains which we had been traversing. Two or three of the settlers were ranchemen, who had lived in this region for many years. They were very enthusiastic about the section of their adoption, and affirmed stoutly that within fifteen years the whole tract would be under cultivation.
I can answer for our whole party that, beyond a doubt, the climate is healthy and the soil rich. For the first one hundred miles, after reaching the eastern boundary of the plains, springs and pure streams abound. Further west, the water supply is not so plentiful. On only one occasion, however, did we suffer any inconvenience from this, and that was upon the very headwaters of the Saline. Going into camp late, coffee was hastily prepared, and the quality of the water not noticed. It proved to be quite salty, and as we drank liberally of the coffee, and were unable afterward to find a spring, our sufferings before morning amounted to positive torture. Each one of the party found that his lungs were benefited by our sojourn on the plains. I believe that a consumptive could find decidedly more relief in Buffalo Land than among the mountains further west.
During the evening, we added considerably to our already very full notes concerning the wild tribes of the western plains. So many are the "true tales of the border" which one can hear in a few months of such journeyings as ours, that the recital of even a tithe of the number would become tiresome. The red-bearded owner of "Shed-tail" added to our store, by relating an adventure which he claimed had occurred to himself and Buffalo Bill, when they were teamsters together in an overland train. It was to the effect that while riding ahead of the wagons, to find a crossing over the Sandy, they discovered the skeleton of a man lying at the foot of a cottonwood tree. As they dismounted for the purpose of finding some means, if possible, of identifying the remains, their attention was caught by letters cut in the bark. These they deciphered sufficiently to see that it had been an attempt by some weak hand to carve a name. A broken knife, lying near the bones, told plainly enough who the worker at the epitaph had been, and other signs revealed to the frontiersmen the whole death history. The man had been assailed by savages, scalped, and left as dead. The work of the knife showed that he must have recovered sufficiently to crawl to the tree, and there make a faint effort to leave some record of his name and fate. The straggling gashes indicated that he had continued the task even while death was blinding his eyes. A few more drops of blood, and perhaps the mystery of years, now shrouding the history of some family hearth-stone, would have been cleared away.