CAMEL HUNTIN'
By permission _The Breeder's Gazette_, Chicago, Ill.
"Did any of yez ever go camel huntin'?" asked the cook, who had beenlistening to some tales of bear and lion hunting that had been going therounds of the men about the chuck wagon.
"Camel hunting?" cried the horse-wrangler, a look of astonishment on hisface. "What on earth do you mean by camel hunting? We ain't none of usever been to Afriky."
"Camel huntin' is jest what I said," replied the knight of the dish-rag,flourishing that useful article in the air as he mopped off the lid ofthe chuck box.
"Do you mean sure enough camels, camels with humps on 'em like what weseen at the circus in Albuquerque las' fall?" queried another doubtingone.
"Faith an' I do that," answered the cook; "an' what's more, I didn'thave to go to no Afriky to hunt 'em neither."
"Whar did ye find any camels hereabouts, 'ceptin in a circus?" asked"Tex," an old-time puncher who had followed the chuck wagon for thirtyyears.
"Right here in Arizony, me lads," said the cook, with an affirmative nodof his red head.
"Gee!" and the wagon boss looked incredulous. "Camels in Arizony! Whoever heard tell of any of them critters down this-a-way?"
Pat by this time had finished his after-dinner work, and while the teamhorses were eating their grain, he sat down to peel a panful of potatoesin readiness for the evening meal.
"Tell us about them there camels, Pat," begged one of the boys.
"Sure," with a grin, "I don't mind givin' yez a little bit ofenlightenment on the subject of camels, seein' as none of yez ever heerntell of thim before now. When I first came to Arizony, ye know I was asojer in the regular army, in the Sixth Cavalry, the gallopin' Sixth,they called it in them days."
"Aw, give us a rest, Pat, about your army days, an' tell us about themcamels," for the Galloping Sixth and its adventures was an old story tothe boys.
"Well," he resumed, "we was scoutin' down the Santy Cruz valley, west ofToo-sawn, a lookin' for old Geronimo and his murderin' gang. One nightwe was camped in a little openin' in the mesquites, wid guards out onall sides ag'in a surprise, when somethin' stampeded every hoss in theherd an' left us plumb afoot, exceptin' them the guards was a-ridin'.Next morning when the captain asked the sargint of the guard what made'em stampede, he sort of grinned an' looked sheepish like.
"'Captain,' ses he, 'ye'll not be after thinkin' me a dirty liar, but,sor, by the blissid Saint Patrick I'd be willin' to swear that theanimiles that set them there crazy hosses off like a bunch of skeeredsheep were nothin' less nor camels--camels, sor, with two humps an' longnecks on 'em; the same as I be seein' in the maynageries whin I were alad.'
"'Camels, sargint?' sez the captain, lookin' sort o' puzzled like. 'Doye surely mean what ye be a-sayin'?'
"'That I do, sor,' sez the sargint, 'an' the men on guard with me willbear me out--at least them that glimpsed them.'
"Then the captain he sort of grins an' sez, 'That's all right, sargint;I'd plumb forgot there used to be a lot of camels herabouts on thesedeserts, an' 'twas probably some of thim.'
"Then the captain, he bein' a fine old sojer man, with no frills orgrand airs with the men when out on a scout, tells the sargint thatbefore the war Jeff Davis (that same Jeff, by the way, what wasPrisident of the Confideracy, he bein' then Secretary of War) gits afancy that camels was the very trick for usin' out West, for packin'stuff for the troops. So old Jeff he gets Uncle Sam to send 'way off toAfriky an' import a lot of thim an' sint them out to Texas an' Arizonyon the deserts.
"But the packers couldn't get used to them, an' besides, they stampededev'ry horse an' mule in the entire southwest with their queer ways an'ungainly looks. So one day the quartermaster at Yuma he turns out a lotof thim with a 'Good-bye to yez, an' God bless yez, an' here's hopin' weniver meet ag'in,' slappin' the nearest one with a halter shank to sortof hasten him on his way. They took to the deserts like a duck to water,an' the captain said 'twas doubtless one of thim that the sargintseed."
"How about huntin' of 'em, Pat?" asked an interested listener. "You suredidn't stop to hunt camels then, did you?"
"Hunt camels thin!" snorted the cook with disgust. "By the powers 'twasprecious little opportunity we had for camel huntin' thim days, with oldGeronimo onto his job ev'ry day from sun-up to dark. No, my son, 'twasten years or more later whin I went camel huntin'. I was workin' for theM. C. outfit, up to Williams, an' they had a contract to deliver somebeef steers to the Injun agent at the Moharvey reservation down belowthe Needles on the Big Colorado. We'd had an elegant summer for rain,an' the desert was covered with grass an' water. So the old man decidesto trail them across the country, an' we takes the herd an' struck offdown the mountain towards the head of the big Chino Valley an' then onwest till we struck the Bill William's fork of the Big Colorado downwhich we was to drift till we reached the main river.
"We started with a young moon, an' by the time we hit the Bill William'sfork the job of night herding was a plumb picnic, so far as the steerswent. We had them all as do-cile as a bunch of trained pigs; an' whatwith the grand feed to handle them on we'd never yet lost a single oneof them nor had a stampoodle of any kind.
"We bedded them oxen down one night in a great open valley after an easyday's drive. There was only five of us, four with the steers, an' me,cook an' horse-wrangler, we havin' everything on four pack mules, whichI drove with the remuda.
"That night Billy St. Joe asked me if I wouldn't take his guard forhim, he bein' about sick all day with nuralgy. So when I was calledalong about midnight to spoon them for two hours I jumps an' was soonjoggin' around the bunch, which was all a-lyin' down as decent as onecould wish fer. 'Twere hard to keep awake, an' I reckon I must 'a' beena-noddin' in the saddle, for, the first thing I knowed there was a snortan' a cracklin' of horns an' hocks, an' away went me steers like thevery old divil himself was behind them.
"I pulled meself together, slapped old Shoestring down the hind leg withme quirt, an' put spurs after them, hopin' to turn them. Old Shoestringsnorted an' kept them sharp ears of his workin' an' looking' back overhis shoulder like, as if he was a-feered too. I hadn't been sidin' themfer more than a hundred yards when, hearin' a snortin' an' a gruntin'behind me, I takes a look meself over me shoulder, an' such a sight asme eyes did get.
"'Twas sure no wonder them steers was a-runnin away, fer right behind uswas three great figures with long necks an' humps on their backs liketwo water kegs a-settin' up there. They wasn't gallopin', nayther wasthey trottin', but jist a-shufflin' along over the ground like ghosties,an' every once in a little while one of them gives a grunt an' a gurglewhich sent them oxen wild with terror. Hangin' to these creatures waslong strings of somethin' more like a lot of ragged clothes thananything else, an' what with the flutterin' an' wavin' they resembled alot of animated scarecrows.
"When we first set out on our race with thim ugly divils a-follerin' ofus, the three night horses tied up in camp, takin' wan look an' sniffof them teeterin' figgers a-puffin' an' a-gruntin' in our rear, jistquit the flats wid the rest of the live stock, an' as we tore along wepicked up every mother's son of the other horses, them all bein'foot-loose, an' a-hangin' round with the pack mules.
"By the blissed saints, but me an' that Shoestring horse was havin' alovely ole time of it all by ourselves, for, with the night horses gone,thim lads back in camp had nothin' to do but set there an' lave it to meto hang an' rattle with them. Thim shufflin' monsters behind didn't seemto want to git past us, but jist kep' at the heels of the drags, an'it's mesilf's a-tellin' ye that every toime I'd take wan hasty glimpseof thim 'twould be the cold chills I'd be after havin', an' me a-cursin'the night I ever took Billy St. Joe's guard fer him.
"What wid the fear in his heart, an' good work wid me 'pet makers', Imakes out to git old Shoestring up clost to the leaders. I'd alsomanaged to get me slicker untied from the back of me saddle an' waswavin' it in their faces, hopin' by thim means to git the bunch turnedan' millin', an' maybe thim lost sow
ls that was a-follerin' us wud leaveus in peace an' quiet.
"Thim three saddle horses a-runnin' an' rompin' an' snortin' in themidst of the steers wasn't helpin' matters, ayther. Iv'ry toime wan ofthe stake ropes what was a-draggin' after thim struck the hocks of asteer he'd give a wild beller of fright, and thin the entire bunch wudput on a few extra bursts of speed, an' thim preambulatin' scarecrowsbehind wud do a little more gruntin' an' gurglin' an' make matters allthe worse.
"'Bout this time old Shoestring, bein' occupied principally wid lookin'over his shoulder an' takin' stock of those wanderin' hoboes behind,failed to notice a big ole badger hole like an open coal hole in a citysidewalk, an' steps wan of his front legs square into it an' turns ahand-spring, landin' in a bunch of _cholla_ cactus, wid me under him.Whin I come to my sinsis, which was some minutes after, I finds meselfafoot on the desert an' it just a-gittin' gray in the east.
"Barrin' a big gash across me cheek, where I digs me face into theground as me old Shoestring lit, I was none the worse for the fall,'ceptin' of coorse a large an' illigant assortment of _cholla_ barbs inme anatemy. Comes daylight I limps back to camp, for I were in no fixfor ridin' till I'd lain fer two mortal hours flat on me stummick on asaddle blanket--an' me as naked as a Yuma Indian kid in July--whilstBilly St. Joe done a grand job of pullin' them divilish cactus barbsfrom various an' prominent portions of me system. Thim infernal thingsstuck out of me carcas till, as one of the byes remarked, 'I was moreporcupine than human.'
"'What skeered your cows, Pat?' says Jim, the boss, as I come cripplin'into camp. 'Sure an' if I knowed I'd tell ye,' sez I. They was alla-lyin' that ca'm an' peaceful as wan could well wish fer. Thin up theyhops an' immigrates. Me an' old Shoestring we busted out after 'em, an'as we tore along I glimpsed a bunch of hairy, wobbly-legged monstersa-follerin' us, a-groanin' an' a-gurglin' like a lot of hobgoblins fromhell,' sez I.
"'Git out' sez Jim; ''twas aslape ye were, ye an' old Shoestring both,an' he had a bad dream an' bucked ye off into a cholla'.
"'Not on yer life,' sez I, mad enough to fight a grizzly between thegrin on his face an' the stingin' of the cactus barbs in me back.
"The boys managed to get the horses rounded up, an' all the steerstogether by noon, but too late to move camp that day. That afternoon Jimsez, 'Git yer gun, Pat, an' come wid me.' So I saddles up me pony, slipsme Winchester into me scabbard, an' him an' me rides off from camp.
"'What's up?' sez I.
"'Nothin', sez he, 'only over here a ways I struck the curiousest tracksI ever seen in all me life; an' me a-knowin' the sign of every critterthat ever walks on legs in this here country.' We soon struck the trailJim had seen an' it sure were a new one on both of us. So we follows itup, feelin' it was our juty, as law-abidin' citizens, to run down an'kill all such disorderly, outlandish creatures that was a-runnin' atlarge. 'Twan't long before we comes to a ridge a-lookin' out over alittle valley, an' leadin' our horses we footed it fer the top of theridge, an' peekin' over we seed down in the middle of the flat threehungry lookin' yaller divils. ''Tis me wanderin' rag-bags what skeeredthe herd last night,' sez I, triumphant like--after Jim accusin' me ofgoin' to sleep on guard an' dreamin' things.
"'I reckon you're right,' sez Jim, with a grin on his mug.
"They was a dirty yaller color, an' what wid the bare spots all overthim, like sheep wid the scab, Jim sez they looked more like a lot ofmangy coyotes than anythin' he iver seen in all his life. ''Twas sure nofault wid thim steers that they all gits up an' stampoodles whin such abad-smellin', evil-lookin' lot of monsters come a-driftin' down on topof them,' sez he.
"'Twere not so hard to git closer to thim, an' whin we finally gits asnear as we thought we could, an' not skeer thim, we each picks out wanan' let him have it where we believed it would do the most good. Minenever ran ten feet; Jim's fell down within a quarter; the third wanstruck off down the valley at a great rate, an' Jim, bein' hell-bent ferropin' things, hollered, 'Le's rope it, le's rope it!' an' jabbed hisspurs into his pony an' tore off, takin' down his rope an' makin a loopas he wint.
"'Rope him if ye will,' sez I, lammin' me old digger wid me quirt, 'butit's meself that ropes no outlandish heathin thing lookin' more like itcome out of old Noah's ark than a daycent, respectable range critter'.But I follered along as fast as I could git me pony to move, him bein'none too anxious to git close to the slobberin' cross between astep-ladder an' a hayrack, that was lumberin' along ahead of us.
"Jim's pony was a darlin' to run, an' as he was a-gittin' closer for athrow I sez to meself, 'If iver that crazy lad ahead puts his line on tothat there travelin' maynagerie he's a-follerin' he's a-goin' to needhelp to turn it loose, sure.' So I waits fer the outcome, feelin'certain I'd be needed before long.
"Bimeby Jim he gits a good chanst fer a throw an' drops his line overthe long, ungainly head in front of him; but the rope, instid ofgrippin' the critter's throat, slipped back an' drew up ag'in itsbreast, an' whin Jim tried to check him up the pony couldn't hold him.Whin the hard jerk come Jim's flank cinch busted, the pony begins topitch, an' between the pitchin' an' the saddle drawin' up on the pony'sneck, poor Jim lost out an' went up into the air like a shootin' star,landin' on his head in a pile of rocks. The saddle stripped over thepony's head, an' away went the whole outfit, through brush, over rocks,across washes, like hell a-beatin' tanbark. The rope bein' tied hard an'fast to the horn, Jim's new $50 saddle wint danglin' along behind, likea tin can tied to a dog's tail. When Jim come to, a few minutes lateron, he wiped his hand across his face, looked at the blood on it, an'sez to me, sort of foolish like, 'What struck me, Pat?'
"'I reckon 'twas wan of Jeff Davis's camels,' sez I."
Tales from the X-bar Horse Camp: The Blue-Roan Outlaw and Other Stories Page 17