Custer County, Nebraska - The whole text, 1901 (part 2 of 9)

Captain McNamar sworn: Reside in Plum Creek. Resided there December 10, 1878. Knew Mitchell. He is dead. Saw him at Plum Creek handcuffed. A. W. Ketchum and Barney Gillan were with him. This was somewhere between 12 and 2 o'clock. Saw Olive at Plum Creek. Am acquainted with him. This is Mr. Olive (pointing to prisoner.) Saw Mr. Olive on that day getting off the train. No one was with him but Mr. Fisher. Each went towards his own home. Fisher was going toward the train when he met Olive. Don't think I had any conversation with Olive that night in regard to taking prisoners out to Custer. Had no conversation with Gillan about prisoners in his presence. Mitchell and Ketchum stayed in town about an hour. Saw Mitchell get in buggy with Ketchum and Dufrand and start north towards Olive's ranch. Know where Olive's ranch is. I have been there. It is north of Plum Creek. The bugg>' went in the same direction. I drove along immediately behind the buggy for several miles. Last time I saw Mitchell was at the house of McLean. We stopped there a few minutes, then drove on north towards Olive's ranch. Think it was between 2 and 3 o'clock when we left Plum Creek. Was about fifteen miles north of Plum Creek when it became dark. Lost sight of them about four miles further on. It was then getting very dark. Had not seen Olive up to this time. When twenty miles from Plum Creek I noticed three men on horseback on my right . riding slowly. It startled me a little at first, not expecting anything. They were riding close together. The foremost man was Mr. Olive, here. Saw Olive next morning at his ranch in Custer county. This is fifteen miles from where I saw him the night before. I think Mr. Olive's ranch is forty-five or fifty miles from Plum Creek. Think it w^aiS about 9 o'clock when I saw him. It may have been earlier. I had conversation with Olive concerning the whereabouts of Mitchell. I asked him where the prisoners were. His first answer, as I recollect it, was that he didn't know. The next was that the prisoners had got away and perhaps had gone to Kearney. Saw Boblits, the county judge, and asked him where the prisoners were. He said they had gone to Plum Creek. Mr. Boblits, I^uis Wamsgan, Al Wise and myself searched for them. Found them in a canon in the vicinity of Devil's Gap, about a mile and a half from Abel's ranch. They were about a mile and a half from the road. Mitchell and Ketchum were both dead. Mitchell's body was partly on the ground, down on the lower limbs. The body was held upright by the chain of handcuff. Over the head of Mitchell was a rope hanging from the limb of the tree. The lower portion of the rope was burned off. The body was burned black. In some places the body was cracked open, I suppose by the effects of fire. The clothing was burned off. On the ground under the body of Ketchum, which was still hanging, were black ashes and more or less cindfis, and under the bodv of Alirolieii were embers covering ihree or four feet of ^ronad in diameter. Tlie lower limbs were dowD in tbeae embers. Blood was oozinp from his mouth.

George Sandford sworn: Live in Custer uouutv. Reside at the house of Mr. Anton Abel. 1 was with the paitv that found the bodies of Mitchell and Ketchum. I tirst found ihe bodies. Mr. McNamar was about 200 yards behind me. I can describe the position in which the bodies were. Mr. Ketchum was hanging to a tree with a rope around his neck; bis head was about a foot from the limb to which he was tied and his feet were about two OP two and a half feet from the ground ; Mr. Mitchell was in a kind of sitting [foution; his hands were fastened to the hands of Ketchum by a pair of iron handcuffs. The rope that was over the body of Mitchell was a new rope and hung down about a foot from the limb. It had been burned off. The body of Mitchell was veiy luidly burned: one boot was burned almost entirely off. His body was buiued to a crisp. The leg that was under the body waa burned most; 1 think it was his right leg. The leg that was not under him was burned a little, but not so much as the other. There were some pieces of woolen cloth on the body of Mitchell, and the arm that was up and was fastened to Ketchum had Bome clothing on it. I think there was a part of one of the pants legs in one of his boots. Mitcbell was burned to a crisp down to his knees. The clothing of Ketchum was all burned off except some pieces of clothing in his boots; mavbe some on one arm. The wolvee had gnawed feome of the body of Mitchell, that is after we first saw them. The place of the burning was one and a half miles from Anton Abel's, two and a half miles from Olive's ranch, and about six miles from Dnrfee's ranch. It is four and a half miles from Olive's ranch to Dnrfee's ranch. Mr. Abel, Mr, Wamsgan, Mr. McNamar, Mr. Boblits, Mr. Wise and myself were the party that found the bodies. All on horseback except Mr. McNamar; he was in his buggy. It was 2 o'clock when we started to look for the bodies and in about twenty minutes I ran onto them. The court house in Custer is a little over two miles from Olive's ranch. Olive's ranch is up the river from the court house. Boblits and Wise came from the direction of the court house. Don't IcDOW whether they came from Custer or not. The bodies were some twenty rode from the road. The grass exactly under the bodies was not burned. It was burned off about three feet around. I examined the ashes under the bodies aa far as I knew how. There were no wood ashes there to the best of my knowledge. There was plenty of wood near by. This place wa» on the road from Plum Creek to Custer, It is known as the Abel road. The road here runs in a canon all along, and the bodies were in a draw running to one side of this canon. There were cracks on the bodies, but I don't think any gashes. 1 think they were caused by the frost. It was on the 11th of December when we discovered the bodies. The coroner's inquest was held on the 16th of December.

The arguments of the attorneys were lengthy, able and eloquent, and the case was given to the jury on the evening of April 16th. A verdict waa arrived at before morning to the effect that I. P. Olive and Fred Fisher were guilty of murder in the second degree. Judge Oaslin immediately sentenced them to the penitentiary for the rest of their natural lives, to which place they were taken.

On the same day, at 2 o'clock in the afternoon, Judge Gaslin announced that he was ready to proceed with the trial of the other members of the gang, but it is not deemed necessarj- to give any further account of the same here.

In conclusion, the following sketch of the Olive family, which we copy from a file of the Omaha Republican printed during the great trial at Hastings, may be of interest to the reader:

James Olive and wife are now at Plum Creek, having arrived from Texas a few days since. The couple are quite old, and deeply grieved over the recent troubles that have been recently visited upon the family. Mr. Olive is seventy-nine years of age, and his companion a few years his junior. They removed from Louisiana to Texas shortly after the close of the Mexican war, and have ever since made their home in Williamson countv of that state. Before going to Texas he was a farmer, but afterwards went into stock quite extensively. His boys - five in number - have all been brought up to the same business. The oldest member of the family is Mrs. Wind, who now resides in Williamson county, Texas. Her husband was killed in the Confed- (»rate army and she and her children have remained at the old home ever since. I. P. Olive, commonly known as Prentice, or ^*Print'' as he has been nicknamed, is about forty years of age and has spent most of his life in the Lone Star state. When the war broke out Prentice left home and joined a Texas regiment and remained in the rebel army until it closed. He was severely wounded at Shiloh in the thigh. Afterwards he drove a mule team with the army until the fight before Vicksburg, where he was captured and s^hortly paroled. After the exchange of prisoners was effected he returned to duty and with his regiment was detailed to garrison duty at Galveston and there remained until the close of the war. Returning to Williamson county he again engaged in stock raising. His brother, Ira, the next son in age, remained at home throughout the conflict and took care of the stock. The entire family were in strong sympathy with the southern cause, but no others were in the army. In 1866 I. P. Olive was married to Miss Louisa Keno, the daughter of a small farmer and stock dealer, who was an orphan living with her grandfather. By her he has become the father of seven

The father and boys bought considerable stock at the close of the war and had gathered together a considerable property. Each of the three, Prentice, Thomas and Ira, and the father had a small farm, and some distance from their farms they had established a range and a ranch. They had separate brands, but seemed to have worked together for the common good of each other.

In the spring of 1870, I. P. Olive and his brother, Ira, accompanied by a hired man, started on a cattle drive. Several miles from home they met a man named Fream and two companions who had some Olive cattle in a herd they were driving. The Olives cut their stock from the herd, and Prentice Olive and Fream passed a few harsh and threatening words. Both men were quite angry when they separated, but no demonstrations of violence occurred. Some days after, Bob Olive - afterwards known in Nebraska as Stevens - in passing through a ravine, was fired upon by two parties who he told his brother were Fream and one of the two companions above named. Being unarmed, and a mere boy of fifteen, he made no resistance, but rode rapidly to his brother, Prentice's, home. A few days more elapsed when Fream and I. P. Olive met, the former being accompanied by a man named Whitehead. All were on horseback. Olive accosted Fream with the question:

"Did you shoot at my brother, Bob?" "No, but I'd like d - n well to take a i)op at you," was the prompt rejoinder. At this both men drew their revolvers and fired. In the fracas both men were badly wounded. Olive was several years in recovering and Fream died a short time after. At the term of court following this event Olive was indicted, and at the next term of court was tried and acquitted.

In 1876 Prentice Olive and his two brothers, Thomas and Ira, in early summer, were sleeping on the prairie outside their ranch, with two white men and two negroes, after a hard day's work branding some recently purchased cattle. About 1 o'clock their ranch was burned and the company fired upon. Thomas was fatally wounded, being struck in several places by buckshot. One of the negroes sustained some injuries also, but the remaining five were unhurt. They returned the fire at random, with what effect they never knew.

This was the origin of their Texas troubles. Prior to this time they had had no serious difficulty except with the man Fream. But this was the beginning of a series of very unhappy events. Some parties headed by one Crow, an escaped convict, had been stealing cattle and occasioning considerable trouble in the country, and the Olives were expecting further trouble with them, but were taken unawares at this time. They immediately concluded that the party that attacked their ranch was headed by Crow. It afterwards transpired that a band known as the Smith party armed themselves and gave it out that they feared the Olives. From this and other circumstances the Olives concluded the Smith party had attacked them, but have never been fullv convinced of the fact. The death of their brother roused a feeling of revenge, and Prentice and Robert both kept themselves on the watch for the murderers. One dav Olive's residence was visited bv two negroes on horseback, one named Donaldson and the other Banks. Thev had pistols strapped to their saddles, and as it was then against the law to carry weapons, his suspicion was excited. Tie went to the house, got his rifle, and placed himself between the negroes, who were at the well, and their ponies. They started for their horses, when Olive covered them and demanded a halt. They said they were hunting stolen horses, but had inquired of Mrs. Olive for her husband. Olive claims to have believed that they were sent there to take his life. The negroes did not heed his command that they should not go to their horses, which was repeated the third time. Finally Banks made a spring for his horse, and Olive shot him dead. The other surrendered. Olive was tried within a month and acquitted. The next spring he came north to Cheyenne and the fall following settled at Plum Creek.

Ira Olive is vounger bv ten vears than his brother. Prentice, and also younger than the dead brother, Thomas, lie was raised in \AHliamson county, Texas, since his birth, and has made cattle raising his occupation since his boyhood. He is the owner of a large herd of cattle alone, and in partnership with I. P. has other stock. At this time he has a herd of 1,000 horses northward bound. This gentleman has been more even tempered than his brothers, Print and Bob, and never had any shooting scrajK^s, and never had a lawsuit in his life. He is here attending the trial at present, and has brought his family north. They are at Plum Creek.

Robert Olive, who was killed by Ketchiim or Mitchell last winter in Custer county, was twenty-four years old the very day of his death. He seems to have been the most reckless boy in the family. Kash, wrong-headed and daring, but also generous and reliable as a business man and as a friend. He left Texas with two murders to his charge and was shortly indicted and a reward of |400 offered for his capture. He killed Cal Nutt in a saloon in November or December about four years ago. Nutt and he had been drinking together. After a time Robert stated that he must leave. As the two stood talking to each other Nutt fired at his companion, putting a ball through his vest, but not inflicting a wound. The tire was quickly returned, and Nutt fell back into the saloon dead, with two balls piercing his vitals. Nutt is supposed by the Olives to have been a member of the gang that killed Thomas, or was engaged by them to kill Robert, who had vowed vengeance upon the murderers of his brother.

Six months prior to this he shot and killed a negro, who he claimed was stealing com from his crib. He was not even bound over for this offense. After killing Nutt he left almost immediately for Cheyenne, where he assumed the name of Stevens and worked for a cattle man named Carny. It was his intention to go back and stand trial for those two crimes had he not been killed. The brothers, Ira and Prentice advised him to take the step he took, that of coming north under an assumed name. They did it rather than bear the expenses of the trial. The body of Robert was taken to the old home in Texas and interred in the Methodist church yard by the side of Thomas. The father and mother and three sisters have long been members of the Methodist church, and for years worshiped in this church. None of the boys have ever taken kindly to religion, however. The youngest Olive boy is about eighteen years old and is called Marion. He is now on his way from Texas with the herd of horses above referred to.

Immediately after the sentence of Olive and Fisher their friends began proceedings for their release. The following year their efforts were successful, the Supreme Court handing down a decision to the effect that the prisoners had a right to trial in the county where the crime charged against them was committed. This not having been done, the prisoners were sent to Ouster county for trial. Custer county had recently been organized from territory that had formerly been in two different judicial districts. The court held that the county was not now in any judicial district, and consequently the prisoners could not be tried before any district judge. This was the decision of two of the Supreme judges, but Judge Samuel Maxwell, the third member of the court, dissented from this view in what is said to be one of the ablest legal documents ever prepared in the Supreme Court of Nebraska.

Under this decision the only court having jurisdiction over the case was the County Court. Accordingly Olive and Fisher were brought before Judge E. J. Boblits, but from some mysterious cause no complaining witnesses put in an appearance and the prisoners were discharged.

The county judge's docket at that time was kept in an account book, and the court proceedings are mixed up with notes of sales and purchases of calves, steers and cows, together with memoranda of exx)enses for hay, barbed wire and other ranch requisites. The following, which we find on the same page with some items of expense incurred in the plastering of the judge's house shows the disposition that was made of the celebrated Olive case:

I. P. OliTe, W. F. Fisher, in custody of Sheriff ODrien, the court flnding no comfdaint on county docket and no complaining witnesses, the court orders that the prisoners he discharged till further proceedings can be had.

Tlie decision of the Supreme Court of course put an end to the proceed* ings against the other defendants, but in the meantime most of them had been allowed to escape from the various jails in which they had been confined, and as far as we know Olive and Fisher were the only ones that ever had to do any time in the x>enitentiary for participating in the Mitchell and Ketchnm tragedy.

It is said by parties who claim to know the facts that from the day of his release from the penitentiary I. P. Olive was a marked man, and that he was followed from place to place by a man whose only object in life seemed to be the killing of his enemy. This man had also trained his son to hate the name of Olive, and as he grew up he shared with his father the hatred thus instilled into his mind. Olive also had a son about the same age as the son of the man who dogged his steps awaiting only a favorable oiq>ortunity to wreak vengeance. At last, four years after the release, I. P. Olive and his soDy William, were in Colorado. One evening young Olive had a quarrel ^ith a stranger over a game of billiards and was shot dead. The next day, while the dder Olive was participating in a round-up of some cattle, he got into a quarrel with a man disguised as a cowboy and was instantly killed while t^ng to draw his revolver.

In every new undertaking in life, whether political, rdigious, or social retacm, or the opening up of some new and untried commercial aTenne, or settling and establishing homes in a new country, the most picturesque and interesting character is always the pioneer - the one who blazes the pathway.

J. D. Strong

It is saJd that England's people are divided into two classes - royalty, and the rest of the people. American history is made up of two classes - the pioneer and the rest of the people.

The pioneer is in a class all by himself; he is the advance guard in every great enterprise; he is on the "firing line" in every contest; a stranger to defeat and upon intimate terms with victory, no matter how long deferred, in the settlement of America his ax awakened the first rude echoes of the woodman's craft in the primeval forests of the East and of the Bouth. His rude bark first rode the waves of the great lakes, searched into their bays iind inlets, and reared nide homes on their Diiirmuring shores. His plow first turned the rich, black loaDi of the middle west, aad made it yield gopptles for the wants of manv. Ilis feet first left a white man's trail upon the arid

Undaunted and iindismaved. he found his nay through treacherotw pasBes and over snow clad siimmiis of the Kockies, and at his magic tonch they yielded up their precious metals. Cities, towns and railroads appeared in every valley, like the realization of some matiician's dream.

Thus from shore to shore of this mighty continent went the pioneers of oiTilization. the heroes of border strifes, the men and women who "blaied the pathway" for the actual settler, who followed to find a home and independence.

It was in May, 1882. after the first pioneers had made a dim, shadowy trail, that I first found my way over the border into Custer county, I nae the word "found" properly, for it was an actual discovery of a most difflcolt way into the then promised land.

In company with John M, Morrison 1 left the main road leading from Kearney to this upper country at a point in Bultalo county, in Fleaaant valley, and went north through the hills, following a very dim trail which persisted in growing dimmer, and which, as dnrkness came on, disappeared altogether. Our hope was to reach McEndeflers on the Muddy that night,

And Short Sketches Op Early Days In Nebraska

80 we pressed on, over high hills and down long, winding canons, one of us walking in front of the team to figure out the trail, and the other driving as directed by the guide.

A more gloomy and desolate prospect could hardly be imagined than that presented to us as the shades of night began to come down over the brown prairie, tumbled and piled about in the most hap-hazard manner; high hills, long and terraced ridges, each line seeming higher than the other, two "tenderfeet" alone amidst all this waste, was enough to make one wish himself back to civilization again.

After some hours - or ages, I can hardly tell which - we began to see cattle and horses on the range, which gave us hope. We soon stnick a broader trail, made by the stock, leading to the ranch, and had less difficulty in keeping in the way. After a time I saw something just ahead of me in The darkness that I took for a post, and believing we had come to a fence, I walked up to it and felt on both sides for the wires, but finding none, I put my hand on top of the supposed post and discovered to my dismay that it was a stovepipe, and still warm.

By the time my investigations had resulted in this warm discovery, Morrison had driven the team up quite close to me and demanded a reason for my stop. I explained the nature of my find, and suggested a careful backing up of the team for fear of a tumble through the roof, which would be likely to disturb the sleepers below. I had seen enough of "dugouts" to know that we had discovered one, but just how to get inside I did not yet know. After getting the team out of all possible danger, I started on a voyage of discovery. The problem of the lay of the dugout was soon solved to the satisfaction of all concerned. Of course it was dug out of a bank, but just whei'e the bank ended and the house united with it I could not niiike out in the darkness; but I soon discovered that there was a space of about four feet between the end of the dugout - which had a wall of logs at the end - and the bank which sloped towards the house. The way I discovered this opening was by the happy one of falling into it, and the way I gained admittance into the house was by rolling down the sloping bank and in at the window, and the way 1 moused the household was by alighting on a promiscuous collection of tinware, which made noise enough to stampede a bunch of plow horses.

From the time I had started across the hills with the intention of asking the hospitality of Mr. McEndeffer's roof and board for the night, it had been with misgivings, if not with fear, as it will be remembered that he had been in some measure connected with the Olives in their fight with Mitchell and Ketchum. He was a cattleman, and his interests were not enhanced by the settlers. What were my feelings to find myself precipitated in this fashion into his house and findin);: myself cLiwing and kicking around among thp dish pane and milk pails, while a gruff voice was demanding: "Who's there?" "Get out!" "Scat!" ''Get a ligbtl" "Uet tbe g«nl" and like exclamatory remarks, interspersed with more or less profanity and a chorus chiming in from other members of the family?

Had the team fallen through the roof it would have raised no greater row than did my plunge through the window. But 1 finally extricated mysdf from the tinware, kettles and frying pans, and beat a hasty retreat under cover of the darkness and the exi-iteiiient of the enemy out through the window and around to the door, where I gave ii loud rap. mtue in accord with civilized ways, and when a light was procured and explanations made, and an inventory taken of the kitchen utensils to find what actual damage was done, we were made welcome, and as the cei'emony of "breaking the ice" was not necessary after breaking my head and a milk crock, McEndef[er*a cob pipe and several other articles of less iiujiortaufe. we were soon comfortable and quite at home.

The next day our journey was unevt'utful, and we put up for the night with C. D. Pelhani at or near wliere I lie piesent city of Broken Bow stands. Pelham kept the postolHce and a small stock of groceries, and I might say the first hotel in Broken Bow. We had often seen the puzzle of the innkeeper who could put thirteen men in twelve rotuus. but I'elhara could discount any such cheap John maihematical prnbleius as that. He could easily stow away thirteen men in one small room. It is related of him on good authority that lie had a most ingenious way of making six blankets suffice for a dozen or more guests. When late arrivals were ready to retire they were tucked snugly away under a blanket that was deftly removed from some guest who had gone to bed earlier, and who, being fast asleep, would never know the difference. Of course if the weather was very cold the uncovered sleepers were liable to wake up after a time and make a roar, but before this stage was reached the other fellow was sound asleep and the covering was refjtored to the original sleei)er. By shifting the covering judiciously and systematically during the night, Pelham always succeeded in keeping all of his guests as warm as a pie in the coldest winter weather, although in cases of a rush of business every one of them would be uncovered two-thirds or three- <]uarters of the time.

Soon after composing myself in my blankets in a comfortable manner, I felt a crawling, hopping, biting sensation that set all my nerves a-golng. After turning from side to side a few times, and some feverish use of the mailed ends of the digits on both hands, I closed my eyes once more with an abiding faith in the "sleep of the just," but it was not to be. With a good, healthy, active flea with a ravenous appetite and an insatiate desire for blood, perched on every square inch of your anatomy, how could it be? Under these circumstances justice and virtue could make no plea. After considering the case in the most philosophical manner of which I was capable, I concluded to take up my bed and walk - out into the "stilly night," with the blue vault of heaven for a roof, and the glad stars to look down upon me and search out my virtuous soul - and register the wrongs inflicted upon me by the "madding crowd" I fondly hoped I had left behind me, but it was not to be. If the stars saw any wrongs to record, they have not made the record known, and in the meantime the fleas held undisputed possession of my blankets. I soon abandoned them and sought the top board of a pile of lumber and lay down to sleep while the fleas huddled up to one another in my iibandoned bed clothes.

This, gentle reader, was my first exi)erience with fleas. I had to learn that the flea was the aborigine of this new country, and that he was on the warpath, that he was a common nuisance, and an enemy of the settler. I had to learn that he would spill alike the blood of high and low degree, that he would bring to naught the pride of the haughty, vex the soul of the virtuous and cause to swear the pious. He was that common danger which brought all men - and, I might say, women also, as he was neither respector of persons nor of gender - to a common level. He annihilated caste and class distinction, and brought all down to the industrious plane of himself, for all had to scratch, and scratch we did, whether in the seclusion of our own private apartments, or in the brilliantly lighted room where youth and beauty had met, or in the pew or pulpit at church. All had to scratch, and it ^was not considered impolite to scratch any particular part of your anatomy that hai>- pened to be bitten.

My only excuse for makinjr such an extended reference to this most amusing little pest is the fact that no true history of Ouster county eoold be written without giving him some notice. To the early settler he ^^as all and much more than I have made him; but, like the aborgines of other countries, he has departed with the conditions that made this his natural home.

The next morning we started for Merna. and at noon of that day ^we stood upon a hill that overlooked the beautiful valley that was to be our future home. Merna, at that time, consisted of one small sod house, \Hth an annex of one room. The sod house was filled with sundry articles of merchandise, such as tobacco, soap, codfish, buttons and thread. A cubby hole in the wall served as the postoffice. and was kept by W. G. Brotherton. The annex was occupied by Mr. Brotherton and his wife as a living room, and was presidc^d ovct by Lizzie, whose chief business seemed to be looking after the wants of new arrivals and making them comfortable and happy.

One-half mile north of Brotherton's store, and the site of the future lively little railroad town of Merna. we struck our tent on claims previously t>ought of Samuei X. Dunning and Floyd Field. Mr. Dunning had located farther north, on the Dismal liver, going into the cattle business. WTien the B. & M. railroad was extended through the Black Hills, a town waB i»>cated near his home and given the name of Dunning, which perpetuates the name of one of Truster county's pi(mt*ers. Floyd Field also located on the Dismal river, or on the Loup, I have forgotten which, and from a modest beginning in the cattle industry, he and his brother. Fred, have grown into two of the wealthiest ranch owners in this part of the state. I might state also, in this connection, that the postoffice of Merna was first kept by Mr. Dunning, and the name of Merna was that of his youngest daughter. After the railroad had been built, and the town finallv and for all time located bv rhe Lincoln Townsite Company, it was cjuite natural that the infantile city, struggling for life and metropolitan honors, should be given the name of the original postoffice, so that Merna became a tixed geographical landmark.

It will now be my duty, as a writer of chronological events connected with Merna and its immediate vicinity, to give the reader a brief and concise historical narrative of its fortunes, from its humble beginning to its present prosperous and happy condition.

lowed, and the signs that proclaimed in unmistakable language that the pioneer had preceded us, and that the influence of civilization was already finding its way into the wilderness, foretelling the rise of cities and towns and prosperous communities, with railroads, churches, schools, libraries, societies and all that goes to make up commercial, social and religious life.

One of the first way marks that I encountered, upon entering Custer county, was found in a very interesting character, and a pioneer who has left bis mark ux)on the historical annals of the county, Major C. S. Ellison of Algernon. Major Ellison was the first chip, on the first tree, that pointed with unerring finger to the exdct spot where the future flourishing city of Algernon would be built, and the name of Algernon would be forever kept green in the memory of future generations the name of the major's favorite son in Nebraska politics. By his tact, energ^^ and a firm faith in the future, the major did succeed in building up quite a nice little inland town, giving it the name of Algernon, and for a time it promised to be the fulfillment of his long-cherished dream, but the Burlington & Missouri railroad built a line up the valley; it cared not for sentiment nor the dream of Major Ellison, but located a town on either side of Algernon, which soon left the brown prairie bare and shorn of its plumage and the name of the young city became but a memory.

I have given this brief sketch of the rise and fall of Algernon for the purpose of shedding such light upon the character of Major Ellison as will bring out in full relief this pioneer as one of the abiding way-marks to the settlement of Custer county. While his dream was not fully realized, and the town he, by his energy, actually builded, has crmbled away and become but a tradition, Major Ellison, as a forerunner and guide upon the pathway of civilization, still lives, and will, so long as a written history of the county exists.

The next way-mark that spoke in tones precluding both doubt and cavil, that we were on the highway over which civilization must pass, was found in the person of C. D. Pelham, heretofore referred to. Pelham's store and Broken Bow's postoffice is now but a leaky-roofed, sagging-walled sod memory, standing on a hill in the outskirts of the present city, with its windows and doors boarded up, given over to rats and mice. While the old soddy is a thing of the past, and is fast crumbling back to its native earth, Pelham, as a way-mark and pioneer is still here, a fact and a reality.

At Mema the store and postoffice, and in fact the whole machinery of the place, wa* in the hands of W. G. Brotherton, who, as a pioneer and a way-mark was a success, and at this time, nineteen years later, he is now in Merna, and persists in being an active way-mark, the only real thing in the way of a ^'blaze" in the forest, an up-to-date pioneer, he refuses to let the moss of a desolated town, or the dirt and dust of an abandoned sod hoose to supplant him in the grateful memory of the people.

Standing at Brotherton's store in May. 1S82. and looking out over the valley spreading to the west and north, one could see a few marks that indicated the beginning of a small settlement. A group of "old bachelors" off io the northwest were holding various claims in various parts of the valley, but were mostly ^'batching'' together in Al Thomas' dugout, where they discussed the future greatness of the country, and studied the faces of the four queens they usually held in their hands, while they mentally cogitated upon an improbable consignment of femininity to be shipped out to supply wives for this miscellaneous assortment of masculinity.

It is only justice to these men who cut such a sorry figure at stag housekeeping, to say that they were all men of liberal education and refined tastes, and to leave behind them the influence of eastern homes and the society of women were the worst hardships th(\v had to endun^ in the wild west.

Most of them in time found good wives, who have helped them to make comfortable and happy homes. In this bachelor dive were Al Thomas, Joe Sitler, A. Sommers, John Jacijuot, Ix^n Tliomas. Charles Thomas, Scott, Hanna, McWorthv and others whos<.^ names I do not now recall.

At this time had one looked inside all of the houses within a radius of live miles from Brotherton's store, he would Jiave found but three women within the entire circle - Mrs. C. P. Foote, ^^s. Brotherton and Mrs. Dunning. What we lacked in quantity, however, A\'e made up in quality, for no new settlement was ever blest with better women to mother the community than this trinity of maternal excellence. They have all gone on before to another country, but the blessings of all early settlers in this vicinity will follow them.

In the spring of 1883 our town took a boom. D. S. Lohr put up a frame building south of Brotherton's store, and hope ran high as imagination piclured a growing city, but it proved a delusion, for Lohr soon moved his store, building and all, some five miles up the valley, where he founded the town of Dale.

This led to the formation of a townsite company at Merna, and a town was located and laid out on section 30, two miles northwest of Brotherton's store, and within three miles of Dale. Authority was granted by the postoffice department at Washington to move the postoffice to the new site. Mr. Brotherton formed a partnership with Milton Casteel and J. D. Strong and a ^reat department store was opened. W. E. Warren built a shack and hung out a mortar and pestle, which indicated to all concerned that he had a fresh assortment of drugs and a limited supply of stomach bitters for sale. If the business side of these ventures is not a pleasant memorj to the genllemen concerned, the old croquet ground and the old sod town hall, which came into existence through their untiring enegy, will always be aa oasis ia that desert of uncertain business prosperity.

Later, a- blacksmith shop, a frame hotel, and another store made thdr nppearaace, but to-day the old townsite is plowed as a field aad yields its store of grain to feed Custer county's helpless poor, as it is a part of the county poor farm.

During the summer and fall of 1886 the B, & M. railroad was extended from Grand Island to Alliance, and the Lincoln Townsite Company purchased Brotherton's old claim and relocated Merna on the site of its birth. This settled the townsite controversy and the future of Mema was assured.

The town grew rapidly into a respectable viUage, with many lines of trade and various industries represented, Brotherton and Warren moved from the new Merna back to the old site, and a rush of population from the East caused houses to spring up like mushrooms after a rain. Mr. Wilson T\'as the pioneer grain dealer, building the first elevator. The business has iieen widened under the management of his son, L. W. Wilson, until now they buy grain at three points in the county.

The Mema bank was launched on its financial career by D. E. Johnson, .ho managed it one or two years, when he sold his interest to John Bair and

Mac Johnson. That the institution has been a success is attested bv that invisible something that alwavs surrounds its popular cashier, and seem to say that prosperity is with him.

In the early days Casteel and Gulick conducted a grocery store, Marshall Eddy handled farm implements, and J. J. Stanford advertised flour and coffins for sale, apparently not seeing any incongruity in his business. Whether John expected his customers to use the coffins soon after using his ilour, or whether the coffins were the necessary suggestion from the quality of the flour, he has never yet explained.

The meat market was an uncertain (juantity for a number of years, but <ifter a fitful season of meat or no meat, or who's got the meat? *^utch'' (George) Davidson took hold of the meat market. That George has been successful is evident from his rotund appearance, which suggests hamburger steak for dinner everv dav.

Mr. Jaquot is one of the pioneers, and has been closely identified with the business interests of Merna. owns and conducts two grain elevators in the county and has large land and cattle interests.

Lee Gordon conducts the Merna hotel, and Peter Fornev the liverv and feed stable. Leo is a Blacksmith, and Ed Brown runs a similar business in another part of the town.

J. Francis has Stanford's old stand, and while he still sells coffins, has discontinued the sale of flour and got L'ncle Sam to let him keep the postoffice, where he can hand out the deadly dun instead of dispensing dyspepsiapromoting high patent.

F. D. Atkisson ("Crank") conducts a large general merchandise store- Mrs. Barrett a department store, while Ben ^A'ells hangs gracefully over the chair of a tonsorial artist when not engaged in repairing a broken finger ring or dissecting a ticker.

Dr. Downing attends to all the ills and ailments of the community, and listens with the same measure of personal interest to a long tale of suflPering liver complaint that he manifests on receiving a fee from one of his delin- ^^uents.

Nine McComas conducts the drug store, and is just as happy in settings up the cigars to his many friends as he is in selling a box of liver pills.

J. J. Stanford is still in business, but contents himself by furnishing sup plies only to the living through the agency of a general merchandise store.

elohn Menary conducts a full-grown harness shop, when not engaged in a surgical operation upon some forlorn and crippled bicycle. Mr. Jayne is the present accommodating agent of the B. & M. railway, and L. W. Wilson represents the interests of the Lincoln Land and Townsite Company.

We have noticed somewhat in detail the material growth of Mema, but material growth in a community were but indifferent success, if not accompanied by a corresponding growth in mental, moral and religious activity, as well as a perfected political system that insures personal and public safety. All these have developed and kept time and marched in perfect harmony with the material growth of the town and surrounding country.

The Merna school district was formed soon after the first settlement, and a sod building was erected on the claim of Andy Sommers, the work being donated by public-spirited citizens. I think the first teacher was a Mibw Mendel, afterwards Fannie Reeder. Miss Ella Purcell and others contributed to the pioneer work of "teaching the young idea how to shoot." That educational spirit has given Merna a splendid graded school, housed in a substantial two-story frame school building, with a corps of teachers second to none in the county.

If it were more difficult to sprout the moral and religious »eed in the ^ew settlements, it made no less vigorous growth when once the embryotic tree was above ground and receiving the sunlight of religious truth. In the early days the moral and religiou-s equilibrium of the community were maintained by the heroic efforts of our pioneer preacher. Elder F. M. Grraham. From an arbor made of plum brush and sunfiowers in front of Brotherton's old store, where Elder Graham first preached to us, to two neat and commodious church buildings where services are maintained fifty-two weeks in the year, is the outward manifestation of the inward development of the moral and religious forces of the town and community. We could haul a load from Kearney for our merchants, and thus <^arn something to live on. The experiences of these trips were varied, sometimes disastrous, as when we broke an axle or a wheel; sometimes sad, as when some poor settler saw one horse of his team die on the road; sometimes gay and pleasant, and often ludicrous.

I recall one incident of the latter character that happened to me on one of these trips. For the benefit of the uninitiated, I must begin by saying that the "chuck box" was a most necessary and important part of the freighter's outfit. To be without your "chuck box" meant to be without your living. Stopping places there were on the road, but they provided you only with a fire to warm your chuck, and a soft spot on a dirt floor upon which to spread your blankets. ^Vhat would some good housewife of the East think if, upon making her appearance in the kitchen in the morning, she should find a half dozen or more of strange, rough, hewhiskered men using her stove and muDching their "chuck" on her table with as much unconcern as if they owned the place? Yet this was the way we did. and tbe lady of the bouse waited with what patience she could for us to clear out before she attempted to prepare the morning meal for her own family.

But the inconvenience was ikic alwiiyn cunfim-d to the family with whom we stopped. The freighter sometimes iiad liis annoyances also. I remember one trip I made in midwinter with the mercury down below zero by several long marks. One day we failed to make our stopping place through the cold and snow until a very late hour. We ate a cold bite and rolled in our blankets for the night. We were up early in the morning, got a fire agoing in the kitchen stove and were busily engaged in thawing out our chuck, which was frozen as hard as a stone. I had placed a loaf of bread in the oven to thaw, and had my coffee made when one of the young ladies of the family appeared, pulled a chair up to the opposite side of the stove, opt'ued the oven door, and deliberately planted her bare feet on my bread to warm them. However, I did not notice the humiliating - or shall I say Jionored? - position of my loaf until my traveling companion came in from attending to our horses, and we sat down to our chuck box to eat our breakfast. Th^n with innocent confidence I reached into tbe oven for my loaf, and grasped a set of warm, fat toes. I got a glimpse of that foot as it rested on my bread. It was a fat foot with short, fat, pink toes. 1 could have forgiven the annoyance bad the foot been an outline of grace and beauty, but to be held up for my breakfast by a fat foot with chubby pink toes, was too commonplace, so I politely demanded its surrender. Of course the young lady was surprised beyond measure. She had taken my loaf of bread for a brick - and I'm sure I took her for another.

But these early hardships w^ere not all the early settlers were called upon to endure. The building of the railroad put an end to the freighting, but by That time farms had been broken out, and the road was as much a necessity to carry out the surplus produce sls to bring in the supplies needful.

In 1890 came the first failure of corn, with but a light crop of wheat, and four years later, in 1894, that awful year that burned everything to a crisp and left nothing but desolation to confront the despairing settlers. The "starving time" at Jamestown experienced by the early settlers of Virginia was no parallel to the starving time of all western Nebraska. Coming at a lime when the wiiole country was prostrated by a financial panic that placed in doubt the tenure of every man's worldly possessions, served to intensify the hardships and sufferings of these heroic people. Many of the reports that went out were exaggerated and untrustworthy, but the plain truth was bad enough. The suffering from actual want at that time was not by any means the real hardship exx>erienced, but what the failure entailed in discouraging the business of the country, and the consequent poverty, that took years to overcome.

During the past tw^o years, the erection of new houses, barns, and outbuildings in the country and towns, and the easier financial condition of the people in general, indicate that the poverty entailed by that black time, has been largely overcome, and an era of prosperity awaits those who have thus far blazed the way through many difficulties, until the purple fruits, and the milk and honey of the promised land, are awaiting the claimants of the glorious reward.

Among ray personal experiences and recollections might be given an incident that occurred during the summer of 1882. Like a great many other settlers w^ho came in the early days, when I had paid the "filing" fee on my land I had nothing left.

One of the first essentials in opening up a new farm is a team. As an excuse for such a perquisite I purchased a pair of very wild and willful bronchos of E. Taylor, who ran a ranch at the mouth of the Dismal river. While I bought the ponies without money, it was not altogether without price, and I think I could have wrapped them up in the great legal-looking document that I was called upon to execute before I came in possession of the beasts. I think "Lish" filed it somewhere in a "blowout," it is doubtful whether he could have found the county clerk's office at that time. However, it had the desired pffcor, and I j:nt a liiistlc on iiiv«i')f li> saiisfv its <)i-iiian(ls. Among I'tlitT diflifiilt ttiiiifis I acnfd to do on acrnnni nf ihat lt-};at-lookin;f document, with its "party nf the first part." and "assipnees and <'xecntnr»." etc., was to work on the ramh through the haying season, and when the time <ame I lepoited there for duty. The lanili was a typical rattle ranch of that time, with few of the eonvi^nienees of eivilizaiion. Tlic bed hugs that lurked in the cnK-ks nf the codar logs of wliieli ihe lioiisc was Imilt. were enough to stampede a floek of eowboys - and they did, for we il mean the eowboys and myself) took onr blankets to the hiiy rornil and slt-pt that part of the night away that wa,* not spent in playing -pi-iuiy anH'." The men at the ranch were a little rongh at times, |>erliaps. bnt withal a good-hearted, jolly lot, ready at all times for any fun, paitieidaily if there was any hazard in it. T'pon one occasion when two in<'n eame np near Ihe raneh to do some breaking where a tree <laini had been loeated. there was a saddling of horses, tilling of Winchester magazines, and ten or a dozen shadowy forms rode oft in the darkness and the next morning nothing was seen of the party that came to do the breaking. I heard afterwards that several gentlemen called on the would-be farmers, helped them to hitch up their horses and actually went a long way with them to prevent the savage men and beasts of the plains from hurting them.

One day a young man came over from Golems horse ranch and informed us that an old man who had been working for them had died, and in justice 10 him they intended to bury him with the honors pertaining to civilized burials, including a funeral oration, to be delivered by David Cole. The young man further announced that as a preacher was an unknown quantity in that region, the only spiritual medium left them would be found in a two-gallon jug at the ranch, whose services would be demanded on this occasion. After these elaborate preparations had been made by the Coles and their men, it was not like these cowmen to plead any excuse for being absent from a function that would not only honor the dead but amuse and entertain the living.

Now the house on the Cole ranch was not an imposing piece of architecture, neither was it elaborate for its housekeeping appointments; one small room, a diminutive cook stove, a long-handled frying pan, a few pots and kettles, tin plates and sleeping room on the floor, or bunks nailed to the side of the room, a box that served the double purpose of a dining table and a convenience for playing cards, just about comprised the "outfit." It will readily be seen that those who had the funeral preparations in charge would meet a difficulty in these cramped quarters to carry on the ordinary affairs of the house in caring for a half dozen live cowboys, to say nothing of one dead one. The difficulty came to the point of solution when the time arrived for rolling blankets and sleep. Here were six stalwart sons of the plain who feared no man living^ but not one would sleep with - as they termed it - "his giblets the corpse.'' Finally the problem was solved in a characteristic way by standing the corpse up in a comer and opening the door, which, when open, swung back across this corner and completely hid it from view. Therefore when the boys assembled the next day from the neighboring ranches to participate in the ceremonies the evidence of a funeral was not in a corpse present on a stretcher, but rather in the two-gallon jug on the table. Believing the story of the funeral to be a hoax to get the boys together for a big time, in which the jug was to play a prominent part, one of the visitors offered to bet a "ten" that no corpse could be shown. Of course the bet was taken and an Irishman belonging to the Cole ranch who bore the expressive name of "Reddy," closed the door and revealed the corpse standing in the corner. The evidence was prompt and convincing and the "ten" was paid over on the spot.

It will not be necessary to give in detail all that occurred before the old man was finally laid in a new-made grave, but with the material at hand it will be easy for the reader to complete it by a draft on his imagination. The oration of Hon. Dave Cole is said to have been a masterpiece of 'liquid" eloquence. Each rounded period was punctuated by a direct reference to the jug, and a gurgling sound came from the receptacle of the spirits, which gave evidence that his appreciative audience was drinking it - that is, both the eloquence and the spirits. This was more than Dave could stand. He was willing for them to drink in his eloquence, but he drew the line at the jug.

The old man was finally laid in his grave, with a bottle on one side containing his share of the contents of the jug, and one on the other side containing a slip of paper on which was written the man's real name and the place of his former home. He had revealed both his name and his former address just before he died. He had evidently been hiding on account of some crime committed somewhere. The bottle containing his name is probably with him yet, but the bottle containing the spirits was dug up before the next morning by the boys in order to relieve a distressing thirst occasioned by the supply in the jug running short, as confessed by one of them afterwards.

These wild roysterers of the prairie concluded that the day could not be better ended than by having a little amusement at the expense of some living man. "Reddy" was the shining mark that attracted universal attention. It was well known that "Reddy" was not afraid of any man that was alive, and that he was a dangerous customer to "monkey with," but it was equally well known that he feared a ghost to the point of frenzy when his superstitious fears were aroused. A game of penny ante was started and "Reddy" and some more of the boys engaged in cards while the rest were hatching up a plot that was to be the undoing of the Irishman and fun for the boys. It was settled that as Dave Ck)le had acquitted himself with such credit as an orator, that he would do equally well in imx>ersonating the ghost of the old man, and at the appointed time he was to take his place on the sand knoll by the grave, dressed in something white, that would seem to be in keeping with the accepted idea of ghostly raiment.

As the shades of evening began to steal down over the sand hills, one of the boys proposed a rest from the game for a time, while they either sang songs or told stories. "Reddy," being a singer, favored singing, but the rest, being in the plot, were in favor of story-telling, and some one was designated to begin, the first story proving to be a most gi'uesome tale of a ghost. The subject of ghosts being introduced, it was quite natural that each in turn should tell a ghost story also, and at the same time make it more horrifying than the one thnt preceded it. Had a collection of these tales been kept and published, I am of the opinion that it would have made one of the most unique books ever placed on the market, and a classic in ghost lore. As the darkness became more int(*nse, and the stories more bloodcurdling, *'Reddy's" flaming shock of hair seemed to stand on end, his month was wide open, and his eyes found no resting place, but searched out every dark corner with evident fear. It soon became apparent thiit **Reddy'' was in "tone," and that his hour had arrived. Dave, feeling a little fear of "Reddy's" quick and accurate aim with his six shooter, thought best to pnt a question to him before retiring to do the ghost act, so he said: *'Reddy, what would you do if you saw a ghost?** "Do?" said Keddy, "I would plu^ at it six toimes wid me gun as fast as I knew liow.*' 'Now,'* said Dave, ''let me give you a little advice. Dont you ever draw a gun on a ghost. I knew a fellow out west that undertook to do that, and when he threw up his gun to shoot his arm withered in a second, and he never got over it.'- While this grave statement of Dave's might have prottnted him. yet it is a fact that the boys, on some pretext, managed to get Keddy's gun away from him before the ghost apix*ared. When everything was in readiness and Dave had taken up his i>osition at the grave, which was but a short distance from the house, the boys began to step out one by one, and linally Reddj himself. At the moment he passed out of the door Keddy did the natural thing for him to do, that is. to look up toward the grave. Dave was just showing up as a white spot. He had covered himself with a wagon sheet, and had a ten-foot pole in his hand. The white spectre began gradually to rise, growing slowly in height until it reached its full length. It then seemed to bend toward the spectators, making a motion as if reaching for them. This was too much for Reddy. He stood as if frozen to the ground with pure horror, his mouth open, his knees knocking together, his eyes bursting from their sockets, his hair on end, and his whole being distracted until he was a sight to be pitied even by his tormentors. But when the supposed ghost appeared to be about to pick him up. the chains of fear that held him were broken, and Reddy bolted. His red head appeared like a dying meteor as it shot with incredible swiftness out into the darkness, and long after the pyrotechnics afforded by his flaming top knot had piissed from sight, Reddy's feet could be heard pounding the sand hills in a flight so ludicrous that the rest of the boys fairly yelled with uncontrolled delight.

I»erhaps to the refined tastes of the reader these inrn may seem like the most heartless and depraved wretches, but in spite of their actions of that day and night the reverse is true. They were a lot of the biggest-hearted feUows one would And in a years travel. No one in misfortune could have appealed to them for help in vain. Bill Ck)le, the manager of this ranch, was one of those big-hearted fellows who, if he had but one crust, the man with none could share it with him as long as it lasted, and no questions asked about his pedigree or habits. A number of them were known to me and they were all of this type. They had taken this old man in and cared for him, not because they needed him, but because he needed them. They had done everything they could for him while he was alive, and when he was dead and beyond their power to aid, the funeral served as an outlet for their overflowing spirits. Neither would they use Roddy's superstitious fears to do him any real injury, for when he did not immediately return each man saddled a horse and all preparations were made for a search through the hiUs, when they heard the heavy footfalls that announced Roddy's race in. Reddy said he remembered nothing after his bolt from the ghost until he came to himself a mile or so from the ranch. Then when he realized where he was. frightened more than ever, he returned to the ranch with no less celerity than he had left it. These are the facts, as I got them from one who was there.

In the faU of 1876, in company with Charles Pfenn, I left York, Nebraska, and came up into Custer county on a hunt. We arrived after dark at Mr. Murphy's place on Clear creek. On our approach the dogs began a violent barking, and suddenly the lights went out.

We thought discretion the better part of valor, and got out of range of the door, and finally convinced the two plucky little girls within, who were only about ten and fourteen years old, that we were friends. They had heard the dogs bark and took lis for Indians or horse thieves, and had turned oat the light, got the gnn and proceeded to "hold the fort." We learned that Mr. Murphy and his wife had not yet returned from a cedar canon near by, where they were loading cedar to take to Grand Island the following day.

Mrs. Jkss Oandy

There could be qnite a romance written about this fauitlv. Mr. Murphy had a few cattle and the two children had to do the herding and have had to subsist for three weeks at a time on a small grass nut which they dag while herding their cattle. But to return to onr story: Mr. Murphy and his wife came in presently and we were hospitably entertained and next moming directed to Mr. McEndeffer's place, Mr. Mni-pliy's closest neighbor, on the Muddy, about ten miles in a southwesterly direction. We had only proceeded a short distance when wt- sighted a band of elk, and everything else waa forgotten in the exciting chase which ensued. We found ourselves at night over twenty miles out of our course, and in the midst of a genuine Nebraska blizzard. We selected a sheltered place on the banks of the Muddy, where we could obtain fuel, and camped until morning. We lost sight of the elk the previous evening among the hills, not having been able to get a sio^e shot at them under 700 yards.

In the morning it was still storming and we retraced our stepa and arrived at McEndeffer's the following evening. We hunted with Mr. UcEndeflFer about a week, and bad splendid success, having killed several deer. I

While on this trip we camped all night in an old deserted sod house and found a large heap of tumble weeds and tickle grass blown up into one corner of the room.

Being very tired, we did not stop to investigate what might be hidden under this immense stack of debris, but proceeded to spread our tarpaulins on it and make our bed.

After a little Charley was snoring aw^ay at the rate of about three knots an hour. I felt our bed move, but thought it must be my imagination. Aher a little the movements beneath became so violent there could be no mistake that there was something underneath our bed. I remembered when a boy of hearing that circumstances sometimes make strange bedfellows, and I thought we "had 'em sure." I nudged Charley quietly and whispered: "Charley, there's something under our bed." But I might just as well have talked to the sod walls. He kept right on sawing wood. The rolling and tumbling motion continued with still greater violence every minute, until we were beginning to get seasick. I got desi)erate, and, springing up in bed, fairly shouted in Charley's ear: "Charley, there's something alive under our bed," and Charley came back from dreamland with a snort and puff just as we began slowly sinking toward the ground and the heaving and surging motion ceased. Looking out towards the door we saw a long procession of little darklooking objects with white stripes on their backs, filing out of the door, and we then realized that we had been sleeping on top of a family of skunks which had taken up their winter quarters in the place.

Once during the summer of 1881, while Jess still lived near West Union, he and his wife were out gathering wild fruit. Jess was a short distance from the wagon. He heard a shot, and rushing out, found his wife had shot a four-pronged buck. But he proved to be only stunned. What was to be done must be done quickly, as the buck was liable to jump up and get away at a second's notice. The suddenness of the thing rather rattled Jess. He had no more ammunition, and not even a jack knife to cut his throat. He was indeed in a dilemma. A dozen different plans flashed through his mind in a few seconds as to the best way to kill the buck, and he saw with alarm that he showed signs of coming to his right mind. He w^as so excited he forgot he could take off his neckyoke and dispatch him, but what he did do was about as funny as Judge Kilgore is said to have done in the winter of '80. The judge packed water two miles for several weeks through two feet of snow, till some one suggested that snow, when melted, made water. But we left Jess with the buck showing signs of returning life. All at once a bright idea occurred to him, and quick as a flash he had acted on it, and had dumped Mr. Buck into the wagon and tied him with his halter ropes. Then, sitting astride his head and neck, yelled, **Let 'em go," and Mrs. Gandy did ^let 'em go,'' for Jarvis Kimes' farm, a distance of half a mile east acrose the prairie. They had gone but a short distance when the buck came to his senaes; and finding Jess astride of him, a struggle for life ensued between the two. It was just about an equal match, and for some time it was a matter of donbt which would come out on top. The buck had free use of his hind legs and when he brought them down on the sides of the wagon box it looked as if he would soon kick the wagon to pieces. The noise frightened the ponies and away they flew, up hill and down hill, over the rough ground, Mrs. Gandj holding them straight ahead and letting them go. The sharp feet of the deer tore Jess' clothing into ribbons and bruised his body fearfully. He had a veritable wliite elephant on his hands, and when the ponies dashed up to the door of Mr. Kimes he was about exhausted, and panting and gasping for breath, his face flushed and the perspiration rolling down his face in big drops. He was only too glad to get some assistance to dispatch the buck.

In September, 1^81, Mr. Gandy was making hay with a neighbor, Mr. Lyle, three miles west of the river, coming home only on Saturday nights, Mrs. Gandy being left at home to look after the cattle. One Saturday evening a man came to the house and got his supper, telliug Mrs. Gandy that he had eaten nothing for two days, Ue was a pitiful looking object. He had a blanket rolled up on his back and carried a pair of shoes in his hand, his feet being so swollen that he could not wear them. After he had eaten his sapper he requested of Mrs. Gandy the privilege of staying all night. She told him that she was alone and that he would have to seek accommodation elsewhere. As he had come down the river in a boat, and there was a settlement at West Union, two miles further on, he started off and Mrs. Gandy got her pony and proceeded to round up her cattle. She returned, attended to her milking and other duties, and went to the house, it being by this time quite dark. When she entered the house what was her consternation to discover the stranger sitting upright in bed, with two huge revolvers lying by his side and a number of papers scattered about him. When she came in he remarked to her that he was making himself at home. She replied: **I should think you are,"' and left the room. As it was Saturday night, she knew that Jess would be home about 11 o'clock, so she took her horse and started for Mr. Lyle's, meeting her husband on the way. When they returned to the house they found the man still sitting up in the bed, groaning with the pain in his swollen limbs. He begged to be allowed to remain so piteously that they had not the heart to turn him out, and he was allowed to remain until m<Mm- ing, although they suspected that he was a criminal. The supposition proved to be correct, as it was afterwards learned that he had robbed a postofSce at Stem's ranch.

A funny incident is related of the experience of Jess in trying to ride a buffalo. He had made his boast that he was going to ride the first buffalo he saw. Shortly after that, while out hunting one day, he came across four or five of the beasts. He fired at short range and shot an old bull through the lungs, which dropi)ed down on his haunches and dropped its head, the blood coming out of its nostrils. Jess thought this would be an excellent opportunity to mount and to make good his boast. He succeeded in getting on the back of the dying buffalo, but soon found that he had mounted a very lively corpse, as the old fellow came to his feet with a bound and started off at a rapid pace. Dave Hickman, who was an eye witness of the performance, declares that at the second jump of the scared buffalo Jess was thrown about fifteen feet into the air. He came dowp on his feet and lost no time in making for a tree about a hundred yards distant, into which he climbed, while the buffalo was flying in the opposite direction.

I have just been reading a communication from Dr. Carver. I knew Carver quite well and was at his place in 1873-4-5. I was a buffalo hunter and trapper. Carver hunted altogether on horseback, but the regular buffalo hunters, or hide hunters, as they were sometimes called, killed their game by what we called the still hunt - ^that is, on foot. I always aimed to get within three or four hundred yards of the herds, and by firing a few times with my long range Sharp's rifle, break the backs of two or three of the old cows that were leaders. As they crawled around on their front feet the other buffaloB would gather about them in alarm and curiosity, which enabled us to approach a little closer, getting what the hunters called a ''stand." 1 have frequently killed as many as forty buffalo at one stand, usually firing about three shots for each hide. This was considered good work. Sometimes we had to take to our heels, as many wounded buffalo would be on all sides, and they were very dangerous. We called them "spike bulls." We always aimed to kill all the Imlls, aw ihcir liidi's whp worth a dollar more than those of the cows, tho avtiiiK<" value of a hull hide in li^To being $2.15. Porty bull hides made a [lood load. It tost uk seven cents for ammuaitiOD every shot we fired, and when 1 ^ay that I kept an account until 1 had used f2,200 worth of ammunition in ktlling o.UOO buttalo and otiier game, my readers may be incredulous. J. X, Dubois, a prominent hide buyer of Kansas City, told me at Buffalo, on the Kansas Pacilie railroad, in 1.'<T4. that during ten months of that year 1S,000 hides per day were marketed, wilh -"(lO outfits in the field, making thirty-six buffalo killed per day by each outfit. Carver is right. Had we foreseen how rapidly the bullalo would be exieruiinated and how valuable their hides would soon become, we might liave made our fortunes. The carcasiies that were left rotting on the ])lains by the millions might also have been utilized. There were a few meat-drying concerns, but they did not appear to be a success.

All kinds of men were in the bulTalo liunting business, some for profit and others for sport. Wash Iti-asuner, a Kansas senator, was (juite a aport in that line, while preachers, lawyers, roughs and toughs all met on a com- mon level to slaughter these noble animals. I have seen General Phil Sheridan forsake the company of aristocratic military attaches to share a meal of buffalo tongue and brains with Miller and Lamb's hunting outfit. Peak and Campbell were the largest outfit on the plains, working from thirty-five to forty men.

"The Slaughter Pen," taking its name from the great number of buffalo killed in that vicinity, on the Arkansas river, was the center of the range. There were comparatively few hides sold along the line of the Union Pacific railway, although vast herds existed in the Platte valley long after the building of that road. The Grand Duke Alexis of !ftussia, accompanied by a party of American officers and others, spent a short time south of the Platte river, a part of the time engaged in buffalo hunting. About the same time Dr. Carver, Buffalo Bill and assistants were trying to catch live buffalo to be shipped to a man at Niagara Falls. They finally succeeded in getting one old bull across the Platte river, after which they gave up the job.

One would hardly believe at this day that no longer ago than 1874 there were countless thousands of buffalo roaming over the valley of the Republican river. Their tramp shook the earth like the tread of a vast army, and in crossing the river they made a continuous roar mingled with a low rumbling ''m-o-o," that sounded like an approaching storm of the early Nebraska type.

The professional buffalo hunter was a i)eculiar being, and had some characteristics that distinguished him from all the rest of the world. When talking to you he would invariably be scratching his leg with one hand and rubbing his side with the other elbow, as if by perpetual motion he could keep quiet what he called "buffalo mange," or, in other words, *^ine backs." During this operation he would be telling you how, that morning, he had run onto a herd of buffalo, killed forty of them, slipped up to an old bull and cut his hamstrings, etc.

There were certain established rules governing buffalo hunting which were lived up to by common consent, and were never violated by a regular buffalo hunter. For instance, if an outfit was camped ui)on the head of some stream, another outfit would never camp above it, even if it had to procure water by digging in the ground, for in so doing it would interfere with the buffalo coming into the water. When cami)ed along a stream the outfits always took care to be at least a mile apart.

When the buffalo came north of the Kansas Pacific railroad it would be some time before the hunters would follow. Everything would be quiet along the Republican, the Sapa, Red Willow, Chief creek and other streams, and the intermediate country would soon be black with the immense herds. Some still morning the decisive report of a Sharp's or a Remington would be heard.

and by noon there would be a continuous fusillade up and down the various streams. By niprht the adjoining hills would be dotted nith hundreds of buffalo carcasses glistening in the setting sun, robbed of their hides by the army of western civilizers. Each outfit had its hunter for each day. He mounted his horse in the morning and started out, the balance of the camp waiting until they heard him firing, then with a wagon the slcianers fcdlowed the sound of the gun. They became so expert in recognizing the reports of the rifles of the different hunters that they always knew just where their particular hunter was working. 1^'hen the hides had been hauled into the camp they were stacked up and the outfit put in their time loading shells f<w the next day's hunt.

At one time a party of Utes came near our camp on a bunting trip and some of the young bucks tried to stampede our horses, of which we bad dx. Failing to scare them otherwise, they began firing arrows at them. We did not propose to put up with this impudence, so we got out and prepared to defend ourselves. One of our party, being a little hasty, was on the point of firing on the Utes, when George Washington, an old chief, rode up and ordered them* away, thus averting what might have been serious trouble. Near the same time Sitting Bull, who had secured a permit from the government, came down to hunt, accompanied by about a hundred young Sioux. South of Julesburg the young Indians came across a hunter's camp with only one man in it. They pounded him with their bows until he thought he would be killed and then proceeded to cut his furs into pieces. The hunter backed into his dugout and got his "big fifty" and was about to string a dozen or so of his tormentors on a bullet, when up comes Sitting Bull. He went after the bucks with his bow, cracking their heads right and left, and killing two of them with his revolver. He subsequently made the young men kill and bring to the hunter the same number of hides they had destroyed, besides giving him two horses.

The name of the hunter referred to above was McGuire. He was afterwards murdered on the Frenchman creek, fifty miles southeast of Julesburg, by a man named Dodge, who had followed him from Arkansas. Dodge was arrested and tried and found guilty. His attorneys made a motion for a new trial and Dodge was kept in the jail at Nebraska City. It is said that while Dodge was in jail there that a brother of McGuire secured a position as watchman at the jail, where he killed Dodge one night, claiming that the prisoner was trying to escape. There were comparatively few cases of this kind on the range, and none by regular buffalo hunters.

Sometimes hide thieves followed us and took skins that had been piled up while the hunters were following the herd. These fellows frequently met with disaster by the unexpected return of the owners of the hides. Nearly all of the carousing done around gambling holes on the frontier and laid to buffalo hunters was done by sharks and thieves who followed in the wake of the regular and orderly buffalo hunter.

The Indians made considerable trouble for some of the buffalo hunters, although our outfit fared very well in that respect. Ui)on one occasion my two brothers and myself were trapping on Indian creek, when a party of seventy-five Sioux passed through and struck our camp. They made me cook dinner for them, and while I was at work a number of them danced around me with their arrows drawn tightly and pointed toward me in a manner that made me exceedingly nervous. They ate everything in sight, and you may believe we felt thankful that they let us off even thus easy. An Indian by the name of Big Blue used to come up on the head of the Republican river to hunt, and in 1872 three intermediate Sioux chiefs came to his camp. A trapper known as Nebraska Wild Bill, and his partner, killed the three Sioux,

Whistler, chief of the cut-off band of the Ogalallas, Fat Badger and Stinking Hand. This outrage was committed in the fall. The winter following my brothers and myself trapped on the Stinking Water, and the Whistler band wag near us all winter, but they never molested us. They knew who killed the chiefs, and Nebraska Wild Bill never dared come up on the Repnblican after that.

Hank Clifford, a trader, John R. King, myself and brothers, were abont the first settlers of what is now Red Willow county. King was an old soldier of the regular army, and a better shot with a needle gun would be hard to find. He professed great friendship for the Sioux, but they attacked him on Pumpkin creek upon one occasion and got the worst of it. He afterwards told me he had killed thirteen of them, and I do not doubt it. Thej crippled him for life, and his finger nails were worn off until they bled, digging into a bank for protection. After he had the Indians routed he went sixteen miles on one leg, with his gun for a crutch. The Indians captured his furs, team and camping outfit. King afterwards received pay from the government for the loss of his property.

And Short Sketches Of Eahly Days In Nebraska

In 18G7 Lieutenant Williams and a party of sixteen government surveyors were missing. In 1869 I was engaged in mowing hay four miles from Indianola, on the south side of the Republican river. I ran into what proved to be an eight-inch tracing compass. It was buried in the sod with one sight sticking out. I also found there a heavy rifle with "Lieutenant Williams" engraved on the brass side plate. Many a trapping and hunting outfit, to my certain knowledge, came up missing in that pari: of the country about that time. Two men trapping on Big Timber creek were run out by the Sioux. They got away, but that was all, and the Indians got everything they had, including three baking powder cans full of arsenic. The men said they hoped the red devils would think it was baking powder and make some bread with it. Perhaps they did, but they likely tried it on a dog first.

Three men, Carrothers, Doan and Rogers, were making quite a good thing about this time in the business of catching wild horses on the range south of Julesburg. When they found a herd they would follow it slowly and turn in some tame horses with bells on. In eight or ten days the whole herd would be so tame they could be easily corraled. Ned Buntline gives a description of the trained horses that i)erf orm in the Wild West shows and the marvelous performances of some of their riders, but some of the every-day exploits of common himters on the plains in these early days far eclipsed anything that a Wild West show ever exhibited. We could not all be Codys, Wild Bills, Bloody Dicks, or Scar Faced Charleys, but some men who made no pretensions to great skill and who did not court notoriety did things that would sound well in a dime novel. In 1869 the soldiers had captured a band of Sioux and were bringing them down the south side of the North Platte river. Another band of Sioux were following them up on the opposite side of the river, evidently watching for an opi)ortunity to get some advantage of the troops or to aid any of the prisoners who might try to escape. When near Ash Bottom, and simultaneously with the arrival of the wild horse outfit referred to above, one of the Indians in charge of the soldiers jumped into the river and struck out for the north side, swimming and diving like a muskrat. The soldiers fired repeatedly at him, as his head appeared above the water, but missed him every time. He had almost reached the other shore when Rogers, the wild horse man, rode up, and, firing from the ground, shot the redskin through the head. The balance of the prisoners witnessed this exhibition of skill on the part of a man who made no pretensions of skill with a gun, and from that time on Rogers was a marked man, and suffered the loss of horses and camping outfits a number of times at the hands of the Indians. He had to quit hunting, and learned that fair play, even with Indians, is good policy.

In 1878 the Utes were camped thirty-fiTe miles south of the Platte river and eighty miles from Greeley, Colorado. A hunting party of Bionx, headed by Sitting Bull, was camped at Julesburg, where they had seven or eigbt hundred lodges. I had a camp near the Utes. They made great preparatioiia for war, but that was all there was of it. They were afraid, and the Bionx daresn't. However, a party under Ute Charley and Ouray, the council chief, made a raid o^ the ponies of the Sioux at Julesburg. They had two h^Mraea apiece, and the boys who were to do the stampeding were securdy tied to their ponies. It is said the Utes waded from island to island in descending the Platte river. They succeeded in running off about a thousand poniea, besides getting away with 400 of the best horses of the Sioux. 1 was at Kempton and Brush's ranch, thirty-five miles from Julesburg, when the Sioux came up, following the Utes. They went no further than the top of a big blufF, fonr miles from the ranch. A few miles in advance of where they stood we could see the doud of dust that indicated the position of the party with the stolen ponies. There were several hundred of the Sioux in full war paint, and alao a number of squaws, who had probably been brought along to cook, for they certainly did some around the ranch that night and the following day, aa squad after squad came in from the front to report to superiors. As far aa I could see they were making a great show and accomplishing little. Twentyflve white hunters could have made those Utes drop the horses in a hnny, but these several hundred cowardly Sioux did not dare to attack an enemy which they outnumbered ten to one. The Sioux ate up and took everything about the ranch. Among other delicacies, they cooked a number of flkanka that had been i>oisoned for wolf bait, which my outfit had scattered op and down the river. We never learned whether the poisoned meat did any damage to the Sioux. It is hard to kill an Indian.

Twenty-five miles south of the Platte is a high elevation called Gap Bock. In 1874 there were numbers of Indian skulls and bones scattered about the vicinity, the result of a massacre of Sioux by the Pawnees. The Sioux woe exhausted from a rapid retreat from Carr's troops. 'Hie Pawnees took advantage of this and we have it from good authority that they killed 200 of their enemies. This massacre occurred in 1866. In 1874 the Pawnees were permitted by the government to go upon the Republican to hunt. When returning, and near where the town of Culbertson now stands, they saw a large herd of buffalo approaching their camp, which was secreted in a sort of canon. All the bucks that were able to do service were soon out after the big game, which led them a merry chase, while a band of Sioux, who had planned this trap which their hereditary enemies had so easily fallen into, mahed down into the camp of the Pawnees, where a sickening slaughter of old men, squaws and pappooses- took place, the number butchered being in all 184. Swift intelligence of the presence of the Sioux in their defenseless camp soon reached the hunters, but instead of rushing to the defense of their squaws and pappooses, they flew the other way as fast as their i)onies could carry them, while the Sioux retreated with equal haste in the opposite direction. Three days later I visited the ground. In the meantime a heavy rain had washed the bodies of the Pawnee women and children into a winrow at the bottom of the gulch, a horrible example of Indian revenge and cruelty. The Sioux had waited since the massacre of 1866 to wreak vengeance on their enemies, and when they had accomplished the ghastly work they boasted of their prowess. The Pawnees w^ere never seen in that region again, although in former days that was one of their favorite resorts. Our camp was but a few miles from the scene of the massacre, and we heard the firing, but paid little heed to it as something that did not concern us. Pawnee Killer (a Sioux) afterwards told me the Sioux drove the herd of buffalo down in order Xrk draw the Pawnee men away from their camp.

On Saturday night last a prisoner named Nolan, confined in the jail at Plum Creek on the charge of murder, made his escape. He was supposed to be a member of the Milton gang, and was handcuffed and shackled in 'his cell, but on Sunday morning he had flown. The shackles had been sawed off, as were also the bars of the window. Some parties were in town on Saturday evening who were suspected of being members of the Milton gang, and as they were also gone on Sunday morning, it is supposed that they sawed off the bars from the cell and assisted Nolan in getting away. - ^Kearney Press, April 14, 1879.

On the Sunday morning referred to in the above clipping from a Kearney newspaper, a man might have been seen on foot slowly approaching the bluffs which border the Platte valley to the north of Plum Creek. The sun was just rising over the miniature mountains, casting long shadows over the beautiful plain and tinting the myriads of dewdrops with the colors of the rainbow as they sparkled like sapphires and topazes on every blade of grass. It was a scene which might have entranced poet or painter, but the solitary individual whom we have mentioned appears to be insensible to the beauties of nature which surround him. He strains his eyes in the early morning light as he scans the horizon behind as if fearful-of discovering eome parsner ob his trail. Shortlv he comes iiaexpecledlv upon a little sod honse nestled among the hills, from the cliimriey of which a thin colamn of emoke ascends into the calm morning air. indicating that even at this early hour the inmates are astir. At the same time honest John Downey and his wife discover a stranger approaching their abode and wonder vbo it can be so early in the morning, and afoot, a means of travel quite rare in days when broncos were so plentiful. The stranger advances to the door, makes a polite bow and inquires: "Can you give me some breakfast and show me the way to Olive's ranch?"

"Yes, sir, I think we can, if you can put up with the kind of grab po<w folks has to live on,"' replied John, "and by keepiu' that road yonder, which is called the Plum Creek road, you'll come to the South Loup river about fifty miles north of here. Folks in this country don't travel much afoot," added John.

'-yo, sir, J suppose not; nor was I expecting to make the trip on foot. 1 expected to come with some friends who were to meet me at Plum Creek. They will probably overtake me before I get there."