by Andy Adams
CHAPTER XIII
DODGE
At Camp Supply, Flood received a letter from Lovell, requesting him tocome on into Dodge ahead of the cattle. So after the first night'scamp above the Cimarron, Flood caught up a favorite horse, informedthe outfit that he was going to quit us for a few days, and designatedQuince Forrest as the _segundo_ during his absence.
"You have a wide, open country from here into Dodge," said he, whenready to start, "and I'll make inquiry for you daily from men comingin, or from the buckboard which carries the mail to Supply. I'll tryto meet you at Mulberry Creek, which is about ten miles south ofDodge. I'll make that town to-night, and you ought to make theMulberry in two days. You will see the smoke of passing trains to thenorth of the Arkansaw, from the first divide south of Mulberry. Whenyou reach that creek, in case I don't meet you, hold the herd thereand three or four of you can come on into town. But I'm almost certainto meet you," he called back as he rode away.
"Priest," said Quince, when our foreman had gone, "I reckon you didn'thandle your herd to suit the old man when he left us that time atBuffalo Gap. But I think he used rare judgment this time in selectinga _segundo_. The only thing that frets me is, I'm afraid he'll meet usbefore we reach the Mulberry, and that won't give me any chance to goin ahead like a sure enough foreman. Fact is I have business there; Ideposited a few months' wages at the Long Branch gambling house lastyear when I was in Dodge, and failed to take a receipt. I just want todrop in and make inquiry if they gave me credit, and if the account isdrawing interest. I think it's all right, for the man I deposited itwith was a clever fellow and asked me to have a drink with him just asI was leaving. Still, I'd like to step in and see him again."
Early in the afternoon of the second day after our foreman left us, wesighted the smoke of passing trains, though they were at least fifteenmiles distant, and long before we reached the Mulberry, a livery rigcame down the trail to meet us. To Forrest's chagrin, Flood, alldressed up and with a white collar on, was the driver, while on a backseat sat Don Lovell and another cowman by the name of McNulta. Everyrascal of us gave old man Don the glad hand as they drove around theherd, while he, liberal and delighted as a bridegroom, passed out thecigars by the handful. The cattle were looking fine, which put the oldman in high spirits, and he inquired of each of us if our health wasgood and if Flood had fed us well. They loitered around the herd therest of the evening, until we threw off the trail to graze and campfor the night, when Lovell declared his intention of staying all nightwith the outfit.
While we were catching horses during the evening, Lovell came up to mewhere I was saddling my night horse, and recognizing me gave me newsof my brother Bob. "I had a letter yesterday from him," he said,"written from Red Fork, which is just north of the Cimarron River overon the Chisholm route. He reports everything going along nicely, andI'm expecting him to show up here within a week. His herd are all beefsteers, and are contracted for delivery at the Crow Indian Agency.He's not driving as fast as Flood, but we've got to have our beef forthat delivery in better condition, as they have a new agent there thisyear, and he may be one of these knowing fellows. Sorry you couldn'tsee your brother, but if you have any word to send him, I'll deliverit."
I thanked him for the interest he had taken in me, and assured himthat I had no news for Robert; but took advantage of the opportunityto inquire if our middle brother, Zack Quirk, was on the trail withany of his herds. Lovell knew him, but felt positive he was not withany of his outfits.
We had an easy night with the cattle. Lovell insisted on standing aguard, so he took Rod Wheat's horse and stood the first watch, andafter returning to the wagon, he and McNulta, to our great interest,argued the merits of the different trails until near midnight. McNultahad two herds coming in on the Chisholm trail, while Lovell had twoherds on the Western and only one on the Chisholm.
The next morning Forrest, who was again in charge, received orders tocross the Arkansaw River shortly after noon, and then let half theoutfit come into town. The old trail crossed the river about a mileabove the present town of Dodge City, Kansas, so when we changedhorses at noon, the first and second guards caught up their tophorses, ransacked their war bags, and donned their best toggery. Wecrossed the river about one o'clock in order to give the boys a goodholiday, the stage of water making the river easily fordable. McCann,after dinner was over, drove down on the south side for the benefit ofa bridge which spanned the river opposite the town. It was the firstbridge he had been able to take advantage of in over a thousand milesof travel, and to-day he spurned the cattle ford as though he hadnever crossed at one. Once safely over the river, and with theunderstanding that the herd would camp for the night about six milesnorth on Duck Creek, six of our men quit us and rode for the town in along gallop. Before the rig left us in the morning, McNulta, who wasthoroughly familiar with Dodge, and an older man than Lovell, in afriendly and fatherly spirit, seeing that many of us were youngsters,had given us an earnest talk and plenty of good advice.
"I've been in Dodge every summer since '77," said the old cowman, "andI can give you boys some points. Dodge is one town where the averagebad man of the West not only finds his equal, but finds himself badlyhandicapped. The buffalo hunters and range men have protested againstthe iron rule of Dodge's peace officers, and nearly every protest hascost human life. Don't ever get the impression that you can ride yourhorses into a saloon, or shoot out the lights in Dodge; it may gosomewhere else, but it don't go there. So I want to warn you to behaveyourselves. You can wear your six-shooters into town, but you'd betterleave them at the first place you stop, hotel, livery, or businesshouse. And when you leave town, call for your pistols, but don't rideout shooting; omit that. Most cowboys think it's an infringement ontheir rights to give up shooting in town, and if it is, it stands, foryour six-shooters are no match for Winchesters and buckshot; andDodge's officers are as game a set of men as ever faced danger."
Nearly a generation has passed since McNulta, the Texan cattle drover,gave our outfit this advice one June morning on the Mulberry, and insetting down this record, I have only to scan the roster of the peaceofficials of Dodge City to admit its correctness. Among the names thatgraced the official roster, during the brief span of the trail days,were the brothers Ed, Jim, and "Bat" Masterson, Wyatt Earp, JackBridges, "Doc" Holliday, Charles Bassett, William Tillman, "Shotgun"Collins, Joshua Webb, Mayor A.B. Webster, and "Mysterious" DaveMather. The puppets of no romance ever written can compare with theseofficers in fearlessness. And let it be understood, there were plentyto protest against their rule; almost daily during the range seasonsome equally fearless individual defied them.
"Throw up your hands and surrender," said an officer to a Texascowboy, who had spurred an excitable horse until it was rearing andplunging in the street, leveling meanwhile a double-barreled shotgunat the horseman.
"Not to you, you white-livered s---- of a b----," was the instantreply, accompanied by a shot.
The officer staggered back mortally wounded, but recovered himself,and the next instant the cowboy reeled from his saddle, a load ofbuckshot through his breast.
After the boys left us for town, the remainder of us, belonging to thethird and fourth guard, grazed the cattle forward leisurely during theafternoon. Through cattle herds were in sight both up and down theriver on either side, and on crossing the Mulberry the day before, welearned that several herds were holding out as far south as thatstream, while McNulta had reported over forty herds as having alreadypassed northward on the trail. Dodge was the meeting point for buyersfrom every quarter. Often herds would sell at Dodge whose destinationfor delivery was beyond the Yellowstone in Montana. Herds frequentlychanged owners when the buyer never saw the cattle. A yearling was ayearling and a two year old was a two year old, and the seller's word,that they were "as good or better than the string I sold you lastyear," was sufficient. Cattle were classified as northern, central,and southern animals, and, except in case of severe drouth in thepreceding years, were pretty nearly uniform in
size throughout eachsection. The prairie section of the State left its indelible imprinton the cattle bred in the open country, while the coast, as well asthe piney woods and black-jack sections, did the same, thus makingclassification easy.
McCann overtook us early in the evening, and, being an obligingfellow, was induced by Forrest to stand the first guard with Honeymanso as to make up the proper number of watches, though with only twomen on guard at a time, for it was hardly possible that any of theothers would return before daybreak. There was much to be seen inDodge, and as losing a night's sleep on duty was considered nothing,in hilarious recreation sleep would be entirely forgotten. McCann hadnot forgotten us, but had smuggled out a quart bottle to cut thealkali in our drinking water. But a quart amongst eight of us was notdangerous, so the night passed without incident, though we felt agrowing impatience to get into town. As we expected, about sunrise thenext morning our men off on holiday rode into camp, having neverclosed an eye during the entire night. They brought word from Floodthat the herd would only graze over to Saw Log Creek that day, so asto let the remainder of us have a day and night in town. Lovell wouldonly advance half a month's wages--twenty-five dollars--to the man. Itwas ample for any personal needs, though we had nearly three months'wages due, and no one protested, for the old man was generally rightin his decisions. According to their report the boys had had ahog-killing time, old man Don having been out with them all night. Itseems that McNulta stood in well with a class of practical jokerswhich included the officials of the town, and whenever there wasanything on the tapis, he always got the word for himself and friends.During breakfast Fox Quarternight told this incident of the evening.
"Some professor, a professor in the occult sciences I think he calledhimself, had written to the mayor to know what kind of a point Dodgewould be for a lecture. The lecture was to be free, but he alsointimated that he had a card or two on the side up his sleeve, bywhich he expected to graft onto some of the coin of the realm from thewayfaring man as well as the citizen. The mayor turned the letter overto Bat Masterson, the city marshal, who answered it, and invited theprofessor to come on, assuring him that he was deeply interested inthe occult sciences, personally, and would take pleasure in securinghim a hall and a date, besides announcing his coming through thepapers.
"Well, he was billed to deliver his lecture last night. Those old longhorns, McNulta and Lovell, got us in with the crowd, and while theydidn't know exactly what was coming, they assured us that we couldn'tafford to miss it. Well, at the appointed hour in the evening, thehall was packed, not over half being able to find seats. It is safe tosay there were over five hundred men present, as it was announced for'men only.' Every gambler in town was there, with a fair sprinkling ofcowmen and our tribe. At the appointed hour, Masterson, as chairman,rapped for order, and in a neat little speech announced the object ofthe meeting. Bat mentioned the lack of interest in the West in thehigher arts and sciences, and bespoke our careful attention to thesubject under consideration for the evening. He said he felt it hardlynecessary to urge the importance of good order, but if any one hadcome out of idle curiosity or bent on mischief, as chairman of themeeting and a peace officer of the city, he would certainly brook nointerruption. After a few other appropriate remarks, he introduced thespeaker as Dr. J. Graves-Brown, the noted scientist.
"The professor was an oily-tongued fellow, and led off on the preludeto his lecture, while the audience was as quiet as mice and as graveas owls. After he had spoken about five minutes and was getting warmedup to his subject, he made an assertion which sounded a little fishy,and some one back in the audience blurted out, 'That's a damned lie.'The speaker halted in his discourse and looked at Masterson, whoarose, and, drawing two six-shooters, looked the audience over as iftrying to locate the offender. Laying the guns down on the table, heinformed the meeting that another interruption would cost the offenderhis life, if he had to follow him to the Rio Grande or the Britishpossessions. He then asked the professor, as there would be no furtherinterruptions, to proceed with his lecture. The professor hesitatedabout going on, when Masterson assured him that it was evident thathis audience, with the exception of one skulking coyote, was deeplyinterested in the subject, but that no one man could interfere withthe freedom of speech in Dodge as long as it was a free country and hewas city marshal. After this little talk, the speaker braced up andlaunched out again on his lecture. When he was once more under goodheadway, he had occasion to relate an exhibition which he hadwitnessed while studying his profession in India. The incident relatedwas a trifle rank for any one to swallow raw, when the same party whohad interrupted before sang out, 'That's another damn lie.'
"Masterson came to his feet like a flash, a gun in each hand, saying,'Stand up, you measly skunk, so I can see you.' Half a dozen men rosein different parts of the house and cut loose at him, and as they didso the lights went out and the room filled with smoke. Masterson wasblazing away with two guns, which so lighted up the rostrum that wecould see the professor crouching under the table. Of course they wereusing blank cartridges, but the audience raised the long yell andpoured out through the windows and doors, and the lecture was over. Acouple of police came in later, so McNulta said, escorted theprofessor to his room in the hotel, and quietly advised him that Dodgewas hardly capable of appreciating anything so advanced as a lectureon the occult sciences."
Breakfast over, Honeyman ran in the _remuda_, and we caught the besthorses in our mounts, on which to pay our respects to Dodge. Forrestdetailed Rod Wheat to wrangle the horses, for we intended to takeHoneyman with us. As it was only about six miles over to the Saw Log,Quince advised that they graze along Duck Creek until after dinner,and then graze over to the former stream during the afternoon. Beforeleaving, we rode over and looked out the trail after it left Duck, forit was quite possible that we might return during the night; and werequested McCann to hang out the lantern, elevated on the end of thewagon tongue, as a beacon. After taking our bearings, we reinedsouthward over the divide to Dodge.
"The very first thing I do," said Quince Forrest, as we rode leisurelyalong, "after I get a shave and hair-cut and buy what few tricks Ineed, is to hunt up that gambler in the Long Branch, and ask him totake a drink with me--I took the parting one on him. Then I'll simplyset in and win back every dollar I lost there last year. There'ssomething in this northern air that I breathe in this morning thattells me that this is my lucky day. You other kids had better let thegames alone and save your money to buy red silk handkerchiefs and sodawater and such harmless jimcracks." The fact that The Rebel was tenyears his senior never entered his mind as he gave us this fatherlyadvice, though to be sure the majority of us were his juniors inyears.
On reaching Dodge, we rode up to the Wright House, where Flood met usand directed our cavalcade across the railroad to a livery stable, theproprietor of which was a friend of Lovell's. We unsaddled and turnedour horses into a large corral, and while we were in the office of thelivery, surrendering our artillery, Flood came in and handed each ofus twenty-five dollars in gold, warning us that when that was gone nomore would be advanced. On receipt of the money, we scattered likepartridges before a gunner. Within an hour or two, we began to returnto the stable by ones and twos, and were stowing into our saddlepockets our purchases, which ran from needles and thread to .45cartridges, every mother's son reflecting the art of the barber, whileJohn Officer had his blond mustaches blackened, waxed, and curled likea French dancing master. "If some of you boys will hold him," saidMoss Strayhorn, commenting on Officer's appearance, "I'd like to takea good smell of him, just to see if he took oil up there where the endof his neck's haired over." As Officer already had several drinkscomfortably stowed away under his belt, and stood up strong six feettwo, none of us volunteered.
After packing away our plunder, we sauntered around town, drinkingmoderately, and visiting the various saloons and gambling houses. Iclung to my bunkie, The Rebel, during the rounds, for I had learned tolike him, and had confidence he would lead me into no indis
cretions.At the Long Branch, we found Quince Forrest and Wyatt Roundtreeplaying the faro bank, the former keeping cases. They never recognizedus, but were answering a great many questions, asked by the dealer andlookout, regarding the possible volume of the cattle drive that year.Down at another gambling house, The Rebel met Ben Thompson, a farodealer not on duty and an old cavalry comrade, and the two croniedaround for over an hour like long lost brothers, pledging anew theirfriendship over several social glasses, in which I was alwaysincluded. There was no telling how long this reunion would havelasted, but happily for my sake, Lovell--who had been asleep all themorning--started out to round us up for dinner with him at the WrightHouse, which was at that day a famous hostelry, patronized almostexclusively by the Texas cowmen and cattle buyers.
We made the rounds of the gambling houses, looking for our crowd. Weran across three of the boys piking at a monte game, who came with usreluctantly; then, guided by Lovell, we started for the Long Branch,where we felt certain we would find Forrest and Roundtree, if they hadany money left. Forrest was broke, which made him ready to come, andRoundtree, though quite a winner, out of deference to our employer'swishes, cashed in and joined us. Old man Don could hardly do enoughfor us; and before we could reach the Wright House, had lined us upagainst three different bars; and while I had confidence in mynavigable capacity, I found they were coming just a little too fastand free, seeing I had scarcely drunk anything in three months butbranch water. As we lined up at the Wright House bar for the finalbefore dinner, The Rebel, who was standing next to me, entered awaiver and took a cigar, which I understood to be a hint, and I didlikewise.
We had a splendid dinner. Our outfit, with McNulta, occupied aten-chair table, while on the opposite side of the room was anotherlarge table, occupied principally by drovers who were waiting fortheir herds to arrive. Among those at the latter table, whom I nowremember, was "Uncle" Henry Stevens, Jesse Ellison, "Lum" Slaughter,John Blocker, Ike Pryor, "Dun" Houston, and last but not least,Colonel "Shanghai" Pierce. The latter was possibly the most widelyknown cowman between the Rio Grande and the British possessions. Hestood six feet four in his stockings, was gaunt and raw-boned, and thepossessor of a voice which, even in ordinary conversation, could bedistinctly heard across the street.
"No, I'll not ship any more cattle to your town," said Pierce to acattle solicitor during the dinner, his voice in righteous indignationresounding like a foghorn through the dining-room, "until you adjustyour yardage charges. Listen! I can go right up into the heart of yourcity and get a room for myself, with a nice clean bed in it, plenty ofsoap, water, and towels, and I can occupy that room for twenty-fourhours for two bits. And your stockyards, away out in the suburbs, wantto charge me twenty cents a head and let my steer stand out in theweather."
After dinner, all the boys, with the exception of Priest and myself,returned to the gambling houses as though anxious to work overtime.Before leaving the hotel, Forrest effected the loan of ten fromRoundtree, and the two returned to the Long Branch, while the othersas eagerly sought out a monte game. But I was fascinated with theconversation of these old cowmen, and sat around for several hourslistening to their yarns and cattle talk.
"I was selling a thousand beef steers one time to some Yankee armycontractors," Pierce was narrating to a circle of listeners, "and Igot the idea that they were not up to snuff in receiving cattle out onthe prairie. I was holding a herd of about three thousand, and theyhad agreed to take a running cut, which showed that they had thereceiving agent fixed. Well, my foreman and I were counting the cattleas they came between us. But the steers were wild, long-leggedcoasters, and came through between us like scared wolves. I had lostthe count several times, but guessed at them and started over, thecattle still coming like a whirlwind; and when I thought about ninehundred had passed us, I cut them off and sang out, 'Here they comeand there they go; just an even thousand, by gatlins! What do you makeit, Bill?'
"'Just an even thousand, Colonel,' replied my foreman. Of course thecontractors were counting at the same time, and I suppose didn't liketo admit they couldn't count a thousand cattle where anybody elsecould, and never asked for a recount, but accepted and paid for them.They had hired an outfit, and held the cattle outside that night, butthe next day, when they cut them into car lots and shipped them, theywere a hundred and eighteen short. They wanted to come back on me tomake them good, but, shucks! I wasn't responsible if their Jim Crowoutfit lost the cattle."
Along early in the evening, Flood advised us boys to return to theherd with him, but all the crowd wanted to stay in town and see thesights. Lovell interceded in our behalf, and promised to see that weleft town in good time to be in camp before the herd was ready to movethe next morning. On this assurance, Flood saddled up and started forthe Saw Log, having ample time to make the ride before dark. By thistime most of the boys had worn off the wire edge for gambling and werecomparing notes. Three of them were broke, but Quince Forrest hadturned the tables and was over a clean hundred winner for the day.Those who had no money fortunately had good credit with those of uswho had, for there was yet much to be seen, and in Dodge in '82 ittook money to see the elephant. There were several variety theatres, anumber of dance halls, and other resorts which, like the wicked,flourish best under darkness. After supper, just about dusk, we wentover to the stable, caught our horses, saddled them, and tied them upfor the night. We fully expected to leave town by ten o'clock, for itwas a good twelve mile ride to the Saw Log. In making the rounds ofthe variety theatres and dance halls, we hung together. Lovell excusedhimself early in the evening, and at parting we assured him that theoutfit would leave for camp before midnight. We were enjoyingourselves immensely over at the Lone Star dance hall, when an incidentoccurred in which we entirely neglected the good advice of McNulta,and had the sensation of hearing lead whistle and cry around our earsbefore we got away from town.
Quince Forrest was spending his winnings as well as drinking freely,and at the end of a quadrille gave vent to his hilarity in anold-fashioned Comanche yell. The bouncer of the dance hall of coursehad his eye on our crowd, and at the end of a change, took Quince totask. He was a surly brute, and instead of couching his request inappropriate language, threatened to throw him out of the house.Forrest stood like one absent-minded and took the abuse, forphysically he was no match for the bouncer, who was armed, moreover,and wore an officer's star. I was dancing in the same set with ared-headed, freckled-faced girl, who clutched my arm and wished toknow if my friend was armed. I assured her that he was not, or wewould have had notice of it before the bouncer's invective was ended.At the conclusion of the dance, Quince and The Rebel passed out,giving the rest of us the word to remain as though nothing was wrong.In the course of half an hour, Priest returned and asked us to takeour leave one at a time without attracting any attention, and meet atthe stable. I remained until the last, and noticed The Rebel and thebouncer taking a drink together at the bar,--the former apparently ina most amiable mood. We passed out together shortly afterward, andfound the other boys mounted and awaiting our return, it being nowabout midnight. It took but a moment to secure our guns, and once inthe saddle, we rode through the town in the direction of the herd. Onthe outskirts of the town, we halted. "I'm going back to that dancehall," said Forrest, "and have one round at least with thatwhore-herder. No man who walks this old earth can insult me, as hedid, not if he has a hundred stars on him. If any of you don't want togo along, ride right on to camp, but I'd like to have you all go. Andwhen I take his measure, it will be the signal to the rest of you toput out the lights. All that's going, come on." There were nodissenters to the programme. I saw at a glance that my bunkie washeart and soul in the play, and took my cue and kept my mouth shut. Wecircled round the town to a vacant lot within a block of the rear ofthe dance hall. Honeyman was left to hold the horses; then, taking offour belts and hanging them on the pommels of our saddles, we secretedour six-shooters inside the waistbands of our trousers. The hall wasstill crowded with the revelers when we entered, a
few at a time,Forrest and Priest being the last to arrive. Forrest had changed hatswith The Rebel, who always wore a black one, and as the bouncercirculated around, Quince stepped squarely in front of him. There wasno waste of words, but a gun-barrel flashed in the lamplight, and thebouncer, struck with the six-shooter, fell like a beef. Before thebewildered spectators could raise a hand, five six-shooters wereturned into the ceiling. The lights went out at the first fire, andamidst the rush of men and the screaming of women, we reached theoutside, and within a minute were in our saddles. All would have gonewell had we returned by the same route and avoided the town; but aftercrossing the railroad track, anger and pride having not been properlysatisfied, we must ride through the town.
On entering the main street, leading north and opposite the bridge onthe river, somebody of our party in the rear turned his gun loose intothe air. The Rebel and I were riding in the lead, and at theclattering of hoofs and shooting behind us, our horses started on therun, the shooting by this time having become general. At the secondstreet crossing, I noticed a rope of fire belching from a Winchesterin the doorway of a store building. There was no doubt in my mind butwe were the object of the manipulator of that carbine, and as wereached the next cross street, a man kneeling in the shadow of abuilding opened fire on us with a six-shooter. Priest reined in hishorse, and not having wasted cartridges in the open-air shooting,returned the compliment until he emptied his gun. By this time everyofficer in the town was throwing lead after us, some of which cried alittle too close for comfort. When there was no longer any shooting onour flanks, we turned into a cross street and soon left the leadbehind us. At the outskirts of the town we slowed up our horses andtook it leisurely for a mile or so, when Quince Forrest halted us andsaid, "I'm going to drop out here and see if any one follows us. Iwant to be alone, so that if any officers try to follow us up, I canhave it out with them."
CELEBRATING IN DODGE]
As there was no time to lose in parleying, and as he had a good horse,we rode away and left him. On reaching camp, we secured a few hours'sleep, but the next morning, to our surprise, Forrest failed toappear. We explained the situation to Flood, who said if he did notshow up by noon, he would go back and look for him. We all feltpositive that he would not dare to go back to town; and if he waslost, as soon as the sun arose he would be able to get his bearings.While we were nooning about seven miles north of the Saw Log, some onenoticed a buggy coming up the trail. As it came nearer we saw thatthere were two other occupants of the rig besides the driver. When itdrew up old Quince, still wearing The Rebel's hat, stepped out of therig, dragged out his saddle from under the seat, and invited hiscompanions to dinner. They both declined, when Forrest, taking out hispurse, handed a twenty-dollar gold piece to the driver with an oath.He then asked the other man what he owed him, but the latter veryhaughtily declined any recompense, and the conveyance drove away.
"I suppose you fellows don't know what all this means," said Quince,as he filled a plate and sat down in the shade of the wagon. "Well,that horse of mine got a bullet plugged into him last night as we wereleaving town, and before I could get him to Duck Creek, he died on me.I carried my saddle and blankets until daylight, when I hid in a drawand waited for something to turn up. I thought some of you would comeback and look for me sometime, for I knew you wouldn't understand it,when all of a sudden here comes this livery rig along with thatdrummer--going out to Jetmore, I believe he said. I explained what Iwanted, but he decided that his business was more important than mine,and refused me. I referred the matter to Judge Colt, and the judgedecided that it was more important that I overtake this herd. I'd havemade him take pay, too, only he acted so mean about it."
After dinner, fearing arrest, Forrest took a horse and rode on aheadto the Solomon River. We were a glum outfit that afternoon, but aftera good night's rest were again as fresh as daisies. When McCannstarted to get breakfast, he hung his coat on the end of the wagonrod, while he went for a bucket of water. During his absence, JohnOfficer was noticed slipping something into Barney's coat pocket, andafter breakfast when our cook went to his coat for his tobacco, heunearthed a lady's cambric handkerchief, nicely embroidered, and asilver mounted garter. He looked at the articles a moment, and,grasping the situation at a glance, ran his eye over the outfit forthe culprit. But there was not a word or a smile. He walked over andthrew the articles into the fire, remarking, "Good whiskey and badwomen will be the ruin of you varmints yet."