Custer County, Nebraska - The whole text, 1901 (part 4 of 9)

Crow Dog spoke as follows: "My brothers, the heart of Crow Dog is heavy to-night, and he feels that the greatness of the Sioux nation is fast passing away. For many moons we have been badly beaten by our mortal enemies, the Pawnees. Crow Dog sees his warriors fall like blades of grass before the prairie fire, and our foes are fast gaining possesion of our hunting ground, where our fathers for ages trapped the beaver along the beautiful streams and chased the elk, the deer and the buffalo across the grassy plains. But all of this has changed and Crow Dog has found a cause for the change. He has called his warriors together with the talking smoke. You have obeyed and it is well. A ver^' great evil has befallen us. You know our great paleface father at Washington gave our father's father, Eagle Claws, a silver medal with the picture of the great father on one side. On the other side was the hand of the pale face father clasping the hand of Eagle Claws. Above this the pipe of peace and the towahawk, and the words. Peace and Friendship. This medal was always worn by Eagle Claws, suspended by a thong of deerskin around his neck. While he wore it he was successful in the chase and conquered all his foes. When he went to the happy hunting grounds he gave this token from the great father at Washington to his son, my father, Rolling Thunder, who was always victorious in battle, and who, when he went to join the Great Spirit, gave it to his son. Crow Dog, saying: *Keep this, Crow Dog, and wear it next your heart, and you shall have many scalps of the Pawnees to wear at your belt. But beware the day you lose this token.' You have heard that many moons ago, over there to the southwest, on the banks of the Muddv water, where stood the lodfies of our oaiion. a bloody battle wag fought where Crow Dog met Stalking Elk, his Pawnee foe. id a death struggle. Crow Dog came out victorious, but he lost the silver medal. His spirit is broken. He is like a sick squaw. He has no spirit for the chase or for battles unless the medal can be found. Now. 0, m.v warriors. Crow Dog baa spoken, and to-morrow at the rising of the sun we will search the ground where once stood our lodges and the great battle field for the silver meda], and I will give flftj ponies and my daughter, laughing Brook, for a wife, to the warrior that finds the token. Go to your tents, O, my brothers, and tomorrow we will make diligent search. Then sharpen your scalping knives and prepare for the warpath, as our Pawnee foes are camped a day's ride to the southeast killing onr game. Their village is strongly guarded, but we will use cunnitig to outwit them. We will drive a herd of buffalo out on the valley below their Tillage^ and while their young men are chasing our game we will crawl up through the grass and scalp and kill their old men and squaws."

"So, Bor, afther hearin' this spache by the ould haythen 1 says to mesilf, sez I, Mike O'Bafferty, its high toinie ye was sthrikin' camp and making thracks for home. So here Oi am."

In writing these reuiinisceDcea I hesitate, thinking that perhaps they might as well remain unwritten, but upon reflection I have concluded that to remain Silent would not be doint; justice to posterity, to whom, perhaps, every circumstance that occurred in the early settlement of Custer county may be valuable. This pioneer history is made up largely of the personal experiences of those who blazed the way into the wilderness and endured the trials and hardships incident to a pioneer settlement. Being one of these pioneers, although less prominent than many others wlio have recounted their experiences in this work, I feel that it is my duty to contribute my mite to the general store of facts of which this work is composed.

The writer was bom at Burton, Wehetze! county, West Virginia, January 24, 1856, from which place my parents removed to LaSalle county, Illinois, in the spring of 1860, where my father, T, J. Butcher, accepted a position with the Ulinois Central railway to pump water, a position be held for almost twentyone years, resigning to immigrate to Nebraska.

An D Short Sketches Of Bably Days In Nebraska

I learned the photograph business in 1874, but was taking a vacation and was engaged in traveling for a firm at Clyde, Ohio. I received a letter from my father stating that he had sold ont and was going to move to Ouster county, Nebraska. I was very much surprised, and, while in a good position, I was beginning to tire of traveling about from place to place and had already thought seriously of seeking my fortune in the great west.

March 9, 1880, saw two covered wagons slowly wending their way westward from Lostant, Illinois, with 700 long miles ahead of them. These prairie schooners contained T. J. Butcher, G. W. Butcher, his second son, J. R. Wabel, his son in-law, and the writer. We would travel as long as daylight lasted, then prepare supper and roU up in our blankets to get what sleep we could before daylight the next morning. I was unanimously elected cook (as I was popularly supposed to be good for nothing else), the ague which still clung to me not exempting me from work. My father was always an early riser, and every morning about half past 3 or 4 o'clock would call me up to get breakfast, with the mercury sometimes near zero, and my feelings often from ten to twenty below. Here was roughing it with a vengeance for a tenderfoot who had not done a hard day's work for twelve years, and who had never slept for one night out of doors before undertaking this trip. By the time we reached the Mississippi river my ague had disappeared and when we got as far as Nebraska I had an appetite that made a crust of dry bread taste like a plum pudding.

We arrived at T. W. Dean's place, two and one-half miles west of West Union, in the Middle Loup valley, Ouster county, Nebraska, just seven weeks from the time we started. I considered this the finest country I had seen since leaving the East, for a poor man seeking a home. My father located a claim in section 28, township 20, range 20, and put down a well, determined not to remain here if good water could not be obtained. At the depth of twenty feet he procured a bountiful supply of clear, soft water. From this on all was bustle and activity to secure claims and return to the land office at Grand Island, a distance of ninety miles, to file on them. The trip was made in about six days without any serious mishap. My sister met us at Grand Island and I was released from further household cares and duties.

We commenced to settle up the county by digging a hole in the ground and drawing our wagon cover over it, which served as a habitation until our first sod house was completed. The house was 21 by 31 feet in size and it was here that I took my first lessons in sod laying, which resulted principally in wearing out my hands and my patience. I soon came to the conclusion that any man that would leave the luxuries of a boarding house, where they had hash every day, and a salary of |125 a month to lay Nebraska sod for 75 cents a day, even if there was a "gintlenian" nn tlie top of the wall to do the work, was a fool, and I remained only six weeks. Aboot eight days before the house was completed our provisions fiave out. There was notbing to eat except some shorts that we had brought with us to feed the horses. This would not have been «o bad had the kerosene can not leaked into the shorts and gave them a flavor that was anything but appetising, but we snbsisted on it until we were ready to return to Illinois after the balance of the family.

We left on May 13th, my father and myself, for Illinois, and my brother in-law for tlrand Island to get supplies to last until my father returned with my mother and my youngest brother, Abnei". my brother George being left on the claim to break sod and plant sod corn. When about twenty-five miles this side of Grand Island, on our way to Illinois, we stopped for the night and picketed one of our horses - a blind one - and turned the other two loose to graze. About daybreak the next morning we made the discovery that oop horses were gone, Wabel and I followed tlieir tracks through the wet grass, supposing they had gone but a short distance. The sun soon came up and dried the grass, but the country being sandy we easily followed their tracks, which were directly towards Grand Island. About noon we struck the house of a settler, where we got breakfast, and were informed that some horses had passed about daybreak. We followed on after them and about the middle of the afternoon saw a man who had tried to catch them, but failed. We hired him to take ns on in pursuit of the runaways, which we finally found tied behind a farmer's wagon just leaving Grand Island. The farmer had caught and advertised them, and was taking them to his place ten miles in the country. He appeared to be as much chagrined at having to give them up as we were pleased to get them back. Some time after we had been gone my father hitched up the blind horse, put on a stay chain, and came to Grrand Island, getting there soon after we did. While walking along beside the horse in the opposite track he lagged behind and got his foot caught in the wagon wheel, which crushed some of the bones and crippled him for many weeks.

I will now pass over several months which have no connection with this history and take the reader back to Graud Island at the time of my return from the East to take up my residence on my Custer county claim. The six months' time I had to make good my claim was up except three days, and I had some difficulty in getting a horse to enable me to ^at to my place in time. But I finally succeeded in procuring an old cow pony that the crows had a mortgage on, with three or four gum boils on his back and sundry other peculiarities to match. Talk about Phil Sheridan's ride! Why, he had only twenty miles to make on a fiery black charger that needed only a slack on the rein to make him fly like the wind, but I had to cover ninety-nine miles on an old crow-bait and build a house within seventy-two hours. I stood it pretty well for twenty miles (the distance that Sheridan rode), when the violent shaking up began to tell on me. Every step he made was likely to kiU me. He rode easily enough if I kept on the lope, but whenever he came to a draw or a low place in the road he came down on both legs as if they had been made of two iron bars, while no persuasion of whip or spur could induce him to more than creep until the opposite side of the depression had been reached. And these depressions occurred with painful regularity every fifty or. 100 yards. I wished more than once that the claim was more than 2,000 miles away, so that it would be no use in my trying to get there, but as all things have an end, so had my ride. I covered the ninety-nine miles in a day and three-quarters, arriving on my claim nearer dead than alive, but to my surprise the old horse seemed good for another trip.

The next morning my father and two brothers, with the assistance of an ox team and a scraper, helped me to construct a dugout, and my brother Abner and myself slept in it that night. On the following morning we saw some fresh deer tracks within a hundred feet of my dugout, and the same day a man was sent by a kind neighbor (who had been watching it) to jump my claim, but he found the owner with a house up and living on it.

And Short Sketches Of Sarlv Da.Vs In Nebrasica Farewell To My Homestead Shanty

Farewell to my little pine bedstead, 'Tig on thee I slumbered and slept; Farewell to the dreams that I dreamt, While the fleaa all over me crept.

I remained in Nebraska this year just two weeks, relinquished my claim back to the government, and wrut to Milwaukee. Wisconsin. I would not have remained and kept batch for tive years for the whole of Custer county. I give the young man who has gone through such an ordeal great credit for his endurance. But I had just seen enough of tin* wild west to unfit me for living contentedly in the East, and after j>assing the wint<M* of 1881 and the spring of 1882 in the medical college at Minneap(»lis. Minnesota, I was married May 16, 1882. to Mrs. Lillie M. Hamilton, formnly Miss Lillie M. Barber, and began to lay plans to return to Nebraska. Thi^ result was that on October 20th of the same year we arrived at my father's place, where we remained all winter, during which time I taught school in the Predmore district and earned enough money to build a photograph gallery 18 by 28 feet, made as follows: We phiced six inch fencing boards up edgewise every two feet, then lathed them both sides, piled clay up anmnd a jH^st. caught a couple of steers, walked them round and round on the clay, adding water until the mud was mixed to the projK'r constituency, after which we filled in between the laths, making a wall six inches thick. The building was roofed with sheeting. By this time our money was all gone, and we yet had six windows and a skylight and side light to fill. My wife jnoposed that we fill them with cotton cloth. We moved in on June 20, 188.*i, and our cloth windows served admirably for some time. I borrowed some money to get my photographic apparatus together and was soon prepared to take tintypes. The next move was to manufacture a background from an old wagon cover that had several holes gnawed in it by the rats. The back ground was painted and patched, bat the paint did not cover up the patches and they showed up plainly in the finished pictures. But necessity is the mother of invention, and we soon devised a simple way of getting around this little difficulty. Finding a couple of coiled wire bed springs, we fastened them to the ceiling, hung the background on them, set them in motion, which blurred the patches so that they were not visible in the picture. Such an outfit! - dirt floor, cloth windows, an old wagon cover for a background - it made us sick at heart. We often wondered what some of our stylish friends back east would think if they should peep in and see us. They would probably have thought we were crazy - and I sometimes thought myself that I might have been a little hasty in my choice of a home, but there I was, with a wife and a baby boy (he is eighteen years old now, and three inches taller than his father) depending upon me for support. I had petitioned for a postoffice and mail commenced running regularly between Jefferson and West Union, a distance of nine miles, and the records show that we canceled 68 cents worth of stamps the first quarter. I considered myself on the high road to success, besides having the honor of being a federal officeholder, and had to stay at home Sundays to give the people their mail for fear they would petition to have the office moved and thus deprive me of the salary attached to it. 1 worked on the farm for my father for 50 to 75 cents a day, and whenever anyone wanted a tintype I dropped my hoe and made it, and went back to the field again. In the fall I built a sod addition to our gallery. I hauled the sod one mile, always having to give two days of my own work for one day of a man and team. Until our sod house was finished, whenever there came a storm, we had to vacate the gallery, as everything would be flooded, there being nothing but sheeting on the roof. We have often gotten up at midnight, wrapped a quilt around the baby and started for my father's place with the rain coming down in torrents and the darkness so intense that we could see nothing except for the flashes of lightning. Then came the trials and vexations of the good wife. When the storm was over everything in the house was soaked and had to be taken out in the sunshine to dry before they could be used again. But the kind of weather which played her out the most was a long, drizzling rain, which kept everything wet and uncomfortable for days at a time, when we had to make a tent over the bed to keep the baby dry. At such times I could not work in the field and of course I had to take care of the little fellow while my wife prepared our frugal meals. I remember a favorite song I had to sing to keep liim quiet on a rainy day. It was as follows: "Say, old man; why don't you put a roof on your house? ^Mien it rains I can't, and when the sun shines I don't need it." Probably about here the chorus is interrupted by my wife remarking: "Don't be a fool." It was hard, but what could I do? It did not rain all the time, and when the sun came out and seemed to smile on us the flowers bloomed with more beauty and all nature seemed to rejoice. Not being of a melancholy disposition I had to rejoice also. I took a timber claim and had some breaking done. Some time after this the town of Walworth was started. I joined the boomers of the new town, which was like the mushroonus that come np in the night. I bnilt a sod house 12 by 14 feet and moved my wife and two babies to the new home. By this time a little girl had come to bless ns and to add joy to our hearts. A. W. Darling and myself soon had a frame gallery np on borrowed capital, he furnishing the security and me the exjierience, and it proved a dear exx)erience to me. I had lived in our new house just six weeks when the buildings of Walworth began to be moved away, some to West Union, two and one-half miles east, and to Sargent, six miles down the river. We sold the gallery and followed the building we had once hoped to own, and rented it for five years. The country was new and I)eople were not overburdened with money, but from this time on we had nothing to complain of for a number of years. My friends advised me to go on my farm and go to work. This was an. insinuation that rather nettled me. It seemed to suggest that they thought I was afraid to work. This is a mistake. On the contrary I could lie down and go to sleep alongside of it at any time. But I knew probably as well as they did that there would be work enough for me to do, as I would have to build another sod house and I had just completed one in West Union. I was so unsettled that my chickens almost knew, when they saw me coming, that they were expected to lie down on their backs and have their feet tied.

In the spring of 1886 I conceived the scheme of getting up a history of Custer county. From the time I thought of the plan for seven days and nights it drove sleep from my eyes. I laid out plans and covered sheet after sheet of paper, only to tear them up and consign them to the waste basket. At last, Eureka! Eureka! I had found it. I was so elated that I had lost all desire for rest and had to take morphine to make me sleep. I told my scheme to every one I met. I talked it constantly. I have talked it nearly fifteen years, and if God spares me I intend to keep talking it until Custer county is full of books. And as hundreds are already sold, I think I see in the future a partial realization of my dreams. After fifteen years of such a checkered career as few men have exi>erienced, I have still been able to wrench success from defeat. I laid my plans before my father. I wished to secure his help, as I had no horses nor buggy. He is a very cautious man, and while he was considering my proposition I went home and in two weeks I had engaged seventy-five farm views of the farmers as they came to town. Some called me a fool, others a crank, but I was too much interested in my work to pay any attention to such people.

On June 14, 1886, I made my first picture for the new book. Was seven years in making 1,500 farm views and writing 1,500 biographies, when the dronght period stopped the enterprisf* for several years. Bnt I had secured a nice littJe home and was nearly out of debt, and wa* again about to take up the history scheme where I had dropf)ed it in 1S!>2. when on the morning of March 12, 1809, we saw onr home and its contents izo up in smoke, with no Insurance and all our seven years' work of compiling biographies. But I still had the negatives of farm views and determined to make another effort. How well I have succeeded I will lesive the i-eader to judge after he has read this book to the last page and look^^l at the last picture, and hope you will always hold in kindly remembrance, your humble servant.

On the morning of the 1st nf April. issT. the ronstruction train on the B. A' M. railroad pulled out of Linsrott eastward bound. Billy and Hugh, who, not being able to wait until they rea<h Aiiselmo to commence their fun, are having a lively time in the raboose tiring otT their revolvers, terrorizing the train crew and passengers and cutting up cowboy antics generally. One of the passengers was L. H. Jewett, now postmaster at Broken Bow, who thought he had gotten into a pretty lough crowd. When Anselmo was reached the two cowboys left the train and lost no time in preparing to give that then lively frontier town a touch of high life a la Wild Bill and Cactus Pete.

One \'an Allen, a bootlegger of bad whisky, had warned the citizens of Anselmo that a visit from the cowboys was imminent and thus the peo{^e were in a manner prepared for their expected guests. Billy Frischauf, a saloon keeper, came to C. D. Pelham and asked him what he should do. Mr. Pel ham advised him to close his saloon, and be it said to the credit of Frischauf, he followed the good counsel of his adviser, and not a drop of whisky was sold in his place during the whole of that fatal day. John Anderson, another saloon keei>er, also promised to shut up his place during the stay of the cowboys. Anderson did close his saloon in the morning^ but having some business out of town, he turned the keys over to his brother^ Frank, who unlocked the door and ran the place wide open all day. Things soon began to assume a lively aspect in the little village, and A. F. McKnight. the man who pumped water for the railroad company, using horse power, brought his team over to the livery stable, saying that he had wired the company that their locomotives could get do water at Anselmo, as cowboys were painting the town and he did not propose to rnn the risk of getting shot. The boys were using the pump house as a target,

A noticeable feature of the ooojision was that one of the cowboys appeared to be a geutleraanly aort of fellow, and toolt no active part in the shooting, but apparently tried to lieep liis companion within bounds. The other, however, crazy with bad whialiy. determined to have all the fun he coold get out of the spree. One of his nntics was to place old tin cans on the tops of hitching posts in the street and theu shoot them full of holes, regardless of the danger of passers-by. who had to seek safety by getting behind buildings. When they got tired of this diversion he shot a hole through the stovepipe inside a furniture store, the bullet almost grazing the head of Mr. McDowell, who was managing the business for J. H. Brandehury, the proprietor.

In the meantime some of the citizens had had a conference to discuss the adTisability of sending for the sheriff, but they decided to wait a little while, hoping that the rowdies would coo! off and behave' themsehes. The boys went to Anderson's saloon, where Degan, the tougher of the pair, was having a fine time marching around in drunken gyrations and shooting holes in the floor and ceiling, when a bullet from his revolver accidentally penetrated the toe of a young man by the name of Murray. The report immediately flew about town that the cowboys had shot a man, and the following telegram was immediately dispatched to Broken Bow:

Charlie Huntington let them have an old dray horse, and another waa procured at a livery stable kept by one Bassey. Mounted on these steeds the two rode into Pelham's store, helped themselves to cigars, rode out and across the street to the store of Weander Bros., where they got something else. By this time it was getting along in the afternoon, and the citizens were anxiously awaiting the arrival of the sheriff, who was expected every moment. After visiting all the stores in town, Fitzpatrick and Degan returned to the salocm, where they attempted the novel feat of playing a game of pool on horseback, Degan firing off his gun occasionally to emphasize his points. It was in the midst of this diversion that Sheriff J^enn and his deputy arrived, pulling up at Pelham's bam. Tom Kimes and Charlie Murray rode out of the barn and Penn, mistaking them for the cowboys, brought his Winchester to his shoulder and commanded them to throw up their hands. Pelham apjMrised Penn of his mistake, much to the relief of the frightened young men. At this juncture another report from Degan- s revolver rang out and Penn inquired: "What shooting is that?" *'Cowboys in the saloon," was the reply.

The cowboys were soon given a tip that the sheriff was in town, when they immediately rode out of the saloon into the street, where they got a glimpse of the oflBcer, surrounded by a crowd of citizens, in front of the liv«y bam. They fired a parting salute from their six-shooters and rode out of town to the northwest. Penn and his men followed them to a house situated on a triangular piece of ground on the outskirts of the village. From this boose a road went directly north and another ran parallel with the railroad track in a northwesterly direction. The latter road was taken by the cowboys, who proceeded as far as the hand-car house and then came to a standstill. Penn and his men halted at the dwelling house above referred to, where they waited to see what the boys were going to do. After about fifteen minutes Fitzpatrick and Degan turned the heads of their horses around and slowly approached the sheriff's party. Penn placed his deputy, Jones, and Humphrey Smith, w^ho had volunteered to assist him, at the northeast corner of the house.

And 8Hobt Sketches Of Eablt Datb In Nebba8Ka 167

guarding the road from the north, which passed on the east side of the building. He gave them strict orders that in case the cowboys came their way to first demand of them to halt; then, if they did not stop, to shoot their horses; and finally, if they still refused to surrender, to shoot them. Penn took his station near the southeast comer, that being the point to which the boys were apparently approaching. When within a short distance from the house they turned and rode directly east, striking the road running north and south, and were rapidly nearing the deputies. One of the men shouted out: "Here they come!" and Penn rushed over from his corner and commanded: "Throw up your hands; I am the sheriff of Custer county!" The boys paid no attention to the command. Eye witnesses say that the horses were shot first. Fitzpatrick's animal becoming frantic, he held the bridle rein with his left hand and was reaching behind to grasp the saddle to keep from falling off, when Smith, thinking he was reaching for his revolver, fired and shot him through the heart. It was afterwards learned that Fitzpatrick was unarmed, having thrown his revolver away before he rode back to town, possibly thinking that in case he was arrested it would go easier with him if it was found that he did not carry a weapon. Degan's horse was also shot, and refusing to surrender, the rider then and there met the same fate at the hands of Penn. An inquest was held and a verdict returned to the effect that the two cowboys had been killed while resisting arrest at the hands of officers of the law.

The victims of this lamentable tragedy had no one to blame but themselves for their undoing. They were not at heart vicious boys, but the wild life they led on the range had made them reckless and foolhardy, and in accordance with the cowboy ethics of that period they considered the holding up of a town a species of innocent pastime. Anselmo had been quite a favor ite resort for these rowdies from the range, whose periodical visits always resulted in trouble. The citizens, therefore, who furnished them with liquor, were partly to blame for the consequences of an injudicious mixture of bad whisky and rowdyism.

NOTE - By Author. Space will not allow us to enter more fully into this matter, and the above facts were obtained from affidavits and citizens who were on the ground at the time.

Joseph Y. Province

JOSEPH Y. PROVINCE Was bom in Fayette county, Ptnnsylvanin, July 18, lS2j, aad was married in 1848, in Marion county, West Virginia, to Peimc-lia J. Stevens, who was bom at Green, Pennsylvania, December 3, 182'J. Mr. Province was the father of thirteen children, John H., Margaret A., Angeline, Jasper S., Celia J., Hartha E,, Newton G., Louisa, Nathan S., Samuel U., Philip S., Selioa and Jessie P.

Early in the spring of 1885, if we had traveled down Spring creek, which emptied into the South Loap river some six miles below the present aite <^ Callaway, we would have seen on the north aide of the river an immigrant camp, the foundation laid for a new sod house, and an old man and his several sons busily engaged in finishing their habitation. They were building their house near a large draw, which led to the river near by. This claim wag inside the Brighton ranch incloeure, and had previously been taken by another man, but the law had not been complied with, and at this time tdd man Province appears to be the only man in Nebraska who desires this particnloi piece of land. Visiting the same place three days later, we find the Province building completed and lumber on the ground for another bouse a short di»- tance away.

One of the boys came in and eaid: "Dad, we are to have a new neighbor, who is starting to build over yonder, and if I can see straight he's building awful close to our line. In fact I think he must have made a mistake and is several rods over on our land." "O, no, boy; I reckon not, and I am glad we are going to have neighbors." "So am I, dad, but you'll find I am right. Here he comes now, we will find out who he is, and as he has done no work yet, if he is wrong he will not be put out much by the mistake."

"Good morning, sir; I see we are going to have some neighbors, and right glad I am to welcome you. But one of the boys was just telling me he thinks you have made a mistake and are building on our claim. Bein' a stranger, such things can very easily happen, and one of the boys or I can show you the corner so as to be sure.

"Well, old man, I think you are mistaken, and you have built on my claim, as I have papers on this claim and am going to build on it, so you can vacate as soon as you please."

"Well, Mr. Long, I went to the land oflQce and found a pre-emption had been filed on this claim, and knowing the law had not been fulfilled, I filed homestead papers on it and I am living here."

This man Long was a single man and an employe of the Brighton Ranch Company. The feud thus started between the rival claimants to this land ended later in the killing of old man Province.

It will be remembered that the land within this immense pasture, comprising some fifteen square miles of territory, was government land subject to entry by homesteaders, and was simply appropriated by the cattle men without warrant of law. As soon as settlers began to file on claims within its fence the ranch company had as many of its employes as possible file on claims in order to retain for its use the claims thus taken. Long is said to have been one of these employes, and from this time on constant quarrels occurred between him and Province, pending the decision of the land office as to the rightful owner of the claim. There were charges and counter charges. At one time, we believe, the ranch company had the Province boys, George Sickler and John McDermott, arrested on a charge of cattle stealing. John McDermott demanded a separate trial, and the company proved that he helped to kill a 1,600-pound beef and carried one hind quarter two miles in a two-bushel sack. John S. Kirkpatrick (now a member of the Nebraska Supreme Court Commission), then a young man just starting in business in Ouster county, had John's case in hand. He took advantage of this- evidence, made an eloquent plea, showing that his client was a man who weighed but 110 pounds, yet had been charged with carrying one-quarter of a 1,600-pound beef two miles in a two-bushel sack. The jury was out about fifteen minutes, and it is said they agreed among themselves that they believed the prisoner was not guilty, but if he had done as the testimony said he did, Mac had earned the beef. The cases against the Province boys and Sickler never came to trial.

On Thursday morning, April 9, 1885, Mr. Province started to Broken Bow, leaving two sons, aged about twelve and fourteen respectively, to plow. Shortly after the departure of Province, Long appeared where the boys were at work, armed with a Winchester, and ordered them to quit or he would shoot. The boys immediately quit work and started after their father, overtaking him before he arrived at Broken Bow. Mr. Province came on to town and contemplated getting out a warrant, but being advised not to do so, returned home during the evening. The next morning he went out and commenced plowing where the boys had left off. A few hours later John Me- Dermott came galloping into Broken Bow with the news that Mr. Province had been shot down by Stephen Long or Charles Powell. Dr. Daum immediately started for the scene of the tragedy and found that Province was dead.

On Saturday morning Dr. Hull, county coroner, summoned a jury, and in company with a large number of citizens of Broken Bow and the surrounding country, visited the place where the murder had been committed, where all the testimony available was taken. The first witness examined was Maria Powell, wife of Charles Powell, who lived in the house with Long. In her testimony Mrs. Powell said that she was in the house when the shooting occurred; Mr. Powell and Mr. Long had gone out of the house; Mr. Long had a Winchester and Mr. Powell a needle gun; did not see the men when the shooting commenced, and did not see outside until after Mr. Province was shot; heard Province call for Mr. Long to come on, he was ready for him. She thought Province had fired five shots. Long two and her man the last shot. When the shooting was over ehe saw Long and Powell in the dooryard, and Mrs. Province coming down to where her husband was lying. I asked Mr. Long: *'Did you hit him? He said: '1 guess 1 did, for he fell.'" The men staid about the house until after dinner and then went down to Allyn's lower ranch.

Philip S. Province, a son of the deceased, said he was plowing with his father; that Steve Long and Charley Powell came out of the house and shot two or three times, and that his father then shot at them several times with a revolver. The men were about seventj-five yards distant when the firing commenced, and he was sure his father did not commence shooting first. After they had fired several shots he saw Long behind a wagon and Powell on the west side of the house. They kept on firing and then Province fired several shots at them with his revolver, and also with a shotgun which he bad with him. He then started for the house and had gone about twenty feet when he fell. The shooting took place about 8 o'clock in the morning.

Stephen D. Long, and, I think, the man living in the house with said Long, on the 10th day of April, 1885, about 8 o'clock in the morning, came out and commenced shooting at me, with repeating rifles, as near as I could make out. 1 shot back at them. I was in my field plowing, about fifty yards from said Long's house, when the firing commenced. After they had shot once or twice I shot back. I shot five times, one with a single barrel shot gun and balance with a revolver. Buck shot No. 3 was in the shot gun. They shot a dozen or more shots. After I had shot all in my weapons, as I thought, I called to them to stop shooting; I would give up; but they kept on shooting until one of them hit me. I do not know which one hit me. When said Long came out I said: "Now draw your revolver on me if you want to." I was on my way to my house when I was shot. I was about 100 yards from said Long's Louse when I was shot. JOSEPH Y. PROVINCE.

Benjamin L. Brisbane State Of Nebraska

Custer County. At an inquisition held at the late residence of Joseph Y. Province, in Ouster county, Nebraska, on the 11th day of April, 1885, before Wyman Hull, coroner of said county, upon the body of Joseph Y. Province, lying dead, by its jurors, whose names are hereunto subscribed, the said jurors, upon their oaths, do say that the deceased came to his death by means of a gunshot wound, inflicted by a bullet discharged from a gun in the hands of one Stephen Long or one Charles Powell, whom the jury find made a felonious assault npon the said deceased, on the morning of April 10. 1885, with repeating rifles, each of said parties firing several shots at deceased, one of whicb shots struck and produced the death of said Joseph Y, Province,

I. T. MERCHANT. Foreman. A. W. GANDY. M. COXLEY, H. A. GRAHAM, C. J. ELLIOTT, GEO. CUDEBEC. Shortly after the shooting Long and Powdl bid themselves in the hills. When the sheriff. C. P. Foote. arrived on the spot on Saiiirdav he found about seventy-five armed men there in a state of great excitement, vowing vengeance against the murderers. The sheriff tried to reason with them, bat they were not disposed to listen to him. lie said they had a perfect right to be there if they were there to see the law oanid out. but if they were there to commit another deed of violence he advised them to disband and go home. This enraged the mob the more and a petition was gotten up on the spot, calling upon the sheiitT to resign, wliich was signed by about fifty persons on the butt of a musket. .\ mi-ssenger came from the murderers that they would give themselves up if they were guas-anteed protection against violence at the bands of the citizens. This assuranre was given and Long and Powell were arrested and taken before T. B. liuckner. a justice of the peace, where they waived examinatioD. .\ mittimus was issued and the prisoners taken to the jail at Plum Creek for safe keeping until their trial in the District Coort, a

As soon as the sheriff had left with the prisoners, the mob which was left behind, instead of returning to their homes, proceeded down the river to the White House, the headquarters of the Brighton Ranch CJompany, where Jived Virgil Allyn, the foreman. Mr. Allyn was absent at Plum Creek at the time, and the citizens set about sacking and looting the place from cellar to garret, helping themselves to everything in the shape of eatables and drinkables they could lay their hands on. As Allyn was one of the highest livers in the country, it is needless to say that the hungry mob had a feast the like of which few of them had enjoyed since they came to the country. Among his other supplies the foreman had a cask of rare old wine, which he kept for the especial entertainment of the guests at the numerous banquets that were held at the White House. The discovery of this treasure was hailed with a shout by many of the mob, and a goodly number of them began to load up on liquor. At this stage of the proceedings an old gray-headed man, who was among them, realizing the danger of adding intoxication to the already inflamed passions of the men, seized a hatchet and knocked in the head of the cask, letting the contents run out on the ground. This brave act probably saved Custer county from an added blot upon her already blackened record, and the name of Isaac Merchant should be revered for all time to come for his timely interference at this critical time. After having satisfied their appetites, the raiders loaded up all the canned goods and other provisions they could find about the place and carried them to the widow Province, the cooler heads only preventing the others from burning the house before they left. On their way back a log house belonging to the Brighton Ranch Company was burned. The house was of cedar logs and was valued at f 1,000. By this time Allyn had heard, in Plum Creek, of what was going on, and started at once for home to protect his property. Fortunately, before his arrival, the mob dispersed, else there would, in all probability, have been more trouble of a serious nature, as he brought a posse of armed cowboys with him.

The session of the District Court in which Long and Powell were tried convened on Monday, July 6, 1885, with Judge Francis G. Hamer on the bench. A special venire of 120 were summoned to try the case. The empaneling of the jury commenced before noon on Monday and was not completed until 10 o'clock on Tuesday. The following jurors were chosen: L. Sutton, West Union; John K. Cooper, Ortello; S. H. Read, Merna; William Hyatt, Myrtle; C. A. Wetherby and J. SneU, Keota; H. Gage, A. C. Blakeslee, W. H. Henderson, Wood River; H. C. Stuckey, Georgetown; J. L. Oxford, Lillian.

Pioneeb Histoby Op Cdsteh Codnty

VTv. the jury in this ease, being duly empaneled and sworn, do find and say that we find the defendant. Stephen I^ng, is gnitty of manslaughter, as eharged in the indictment, and reLOuiniend him to the mercy of the court; and we find the defendant, Charles Powell, not guilty.

It is therefore considered and adjudged by the court that the said defendant, Stephen Long, be imprisoned and confined iu the penitentiary of the state of Xebraska, at hard labor, for the period of four years and six months, and that he pay the costs of this prosecution, and that he stay committed in the hands of the sheriff of Custer county, Nebraska, until the sentence of this court be complied with or he be otherwise legally discharged.

And Shobt Sketches Of Early Days In Nebraska

James E. Farley, the writer of the following sketch, was born in Piatt county, Missouri, February 26, 1850. In the summer of 1878 left Dodge City, in southwestern Kansas, a famous cattle town, "bound for Nebraska, over the overland trail via Ogallala and North Platte. Arrived on the Middle Loup river in the fall of the same year, and wintered in Custer county. In the fiipring of 1879 I returned to Kansas, where I took part in the round-up on the Smoky river, in the employ of Major Wilson, who represented an English firm. Their ranch was located on Hell creek, which empties into Smoky river. I worked up to the head of the Smoky in eastern Colorado, and then across to the Saline river, down the latter stream to north of Buffalo City, where I struck the cow trail to Nebraska. I reached the Dismal river about the 10th of May, in time to strike the northern round-up. We worked from the mouth of the Dismal river to the head. I was tlien in the employ of Finch-Hatton Brothers, also an English firm. It was my duty to visit all the ranges where cattle were held, look for all cattle belonging to my employers and drive them in. We went north to North & Codv's ranch, and from there into the lake country. On the night of our arrival here I lay down on the prairie, wrapped my blanket around me, and slept as soundly as a babe. The next morning the ground appeared as if it had been disturbed. One of our men named John Daugherty, dug down and found an Indian buried in a sitting posture, his head not a foot under ground. The body was in an advanced state of decay, and the Indian had probably been one of a band of Cheyennes which had passed through the previous fall on their way to Pine Ridge. On this round-up we found a great many unbranded cattle from three to four years old that had probably never before seen a man. These w^ere cattle that had strayed away from the different ranches, and as the country was strange to us, we wondered where they got water, but we found later on that there was plenty of water a short distance west of us. From here we came back to Dave Kankiu'S ranch, better known as Woods' Stage ranch, on the Black Hills trail from Kearney, twenty-eight miles from the head of the Middle Loup river, and wound up at the Finch-Hatton ranch, where we started. I then quit this outfit and went to Ogallala and hired out to Phil Diifrand, who was ' foreman of the Cottonwood ranch on the South Loup river, for whom I worked two years. We were near oeighbors to the Olives, whose raoch was about four miles down the river. Phil Dufrand was a jolly good fellow. I also became well acquainted, while hero, with Marion and I. P. Olive, and found them nice men to get along with. In the spring of 1880 the first round-up commenced in May, at North & Cody's ranch. From there we went to Inman'a ranch on the Birdwood: from there to Bratt's ranch at the mouth of the Birdwood, west of North Platte; from there to Plummer's ranch, near Brady island; from there to Fowler's ranch, at the head of the South Loup; from there to John Henry's ranch near the falls of the South Loup; from there to Dan naskell's ranch; from there to Duffee's ranch on the Cottonwood; from there to Olive's ranch on the South Loup, at the mouth of Spring creek; from there to the Brighton ranch. Virg. Allyn. foreman; and then to several other ranches east of the Black Ilills trail, when the round-up broke and we returned homo with our cattle.

During my fifteen years' experience as a cowboy,. I was with the wildest bunch of cattle ever driven through from the coast. They stampeded every night on the trip, rain or shine. There were 1,500 of them, and we held them for some time on the summer range in southwestern Kansas, on the little

Arkansas river. We first built a stockade and tried to hold them in that, bnt they would run round and round and stack up one on top of the other until they broke down the walls and got away. We then herded them on the prairie, six cowboys taking turns of two hours each during the night, two standing guard at once, and whenever a stampede commenced all hands had to torn out, often riding all night through a driving storm of rain, with the lightning making the heavens a continuous blaze and the thunder crashing like a continuous bombardment, frightening the cattle until they were almost frantic. Often at daybreak we would find ourselves twenty miles away from the camp.

Cattle generally follow some leader, stringing out in single file, and they will follow the leader as long as he runs. If we were able to keep up with the leader or head him off we could get the cattle to going in a circle, and after a while to bunch them and get them stopped. Sometimes we were not able to get ahead of the cattle in a stampede, but had to follow alongside, catching glimpses of them when the lightning flashed, strung out a long distance ahead of us. Manv of these cattle were five or six vears old, and had never been near a man since they were branded, and were as wild as a herd of buffalo. When we started out with them the first week they were on the constant lookout to get away. After succeeding a few times, some of them became spoiled to such an extent that they had to be killed to keep them from demoralizing the rest of the herd. One time there were two cow camps of us holding cattle on the head of Cow creek. Jim Dalzell, a lone settler, had a fine watermelon patch and he told the cowboys that they could have all the melons they wanted, but some of the boys in the other camp thought it would be so much nicer to steal them, and our camp, in connection with one of their men, put up a job on them that caused all of us to have three weeks' extra work. We found out the time set by the boys of the other camp to make a raid on the melons, and stationed our men in the patch to welcome them when they entered. They soon made their appearance, tied their horses, and came over into the patch, Billy Kessler, the man in the plot, leading them right up to where we were hidden in a bunch of weeds. We had taken the balls out of our cartridges to prevent any accident in the darkness. "Come over this way, boys; here's some fine ones," shouted Billy, as he led them towards us. We could hear them scrambling through the melon vines, thumping the melons as they came. When within a few feet of us, we sprang out ¥rfth a yell and "bang, bang, bang," went the revolvers. Billy bravely held his ground, returning our fire, but the other boys took to their heels, dashed through the creek, with us after them, and firing at every jump. In their fright they rushed through both herds of cattle. The cattle stampeded and

We came in contact with nearly every Indiau tribe between Red river id northern Texas, and the Dakotas. and saw many thrilling buffalo hunts by the Osages. They would kill the butTalo by riding single file, each man carrying a spear, whidi was aimed at soiiip vital spot. If he missed, another Indian took liin place, until the buffalo was down, tbe squaws following, shinning and securing the meat and the hides.

Towards tbe end of my cowboy career I worked for the Bar-7 ranch, of which David Rankin was principal owner. This ranch was located on the Middle Tjoup.

I^arpe herds of elk roamed over this country at that time. While on the round-up in 1SJ>1 we sighted a large bunch which had winded us. The bojB off with their ropes and after theui. C. W. Stern. John Carney, Bert Wilder, Charley Peterson, a green hand at the cattle business, and six or eight others were in tbe chase and there was enacted one of the most thrilling incidents ever witnessed on the plains of Nebraska. Peterson singled ont the bluest buck in the bunch, and as soon as Charley be^an to press him hard, he left the bunch and ran in another direction, Peterson close at his heels. I knew that Charley would never let up until he had secured the buck, and I knew full as well that he would have trouble when he threw his rope over the powerful beast, as he never carried a j^^un. I followed him as fast as my horse could carry me. I lost sight of him for a while in the chop hills, but soon discovered him again as I rode up on a little hill. He had the elk at the end of his rope about eighty rods from me. The first move I saw was the elk making a run on the rope, and when he came to the end of it he fell heavily to the ground. He then jumped up and charged Peterson's horse. As he came on, head down, <at the rate of about fifty miles an hour, Charlie spurred his horse to one side and let the elk pass, and gave him another tumble as the rope tightened up. I waited to see no more but galloped as fast as my horse could carry me to his assistance, as I knew that it was only a question of time when the infuriated brute would catch the fearless boy in one of his charges. As I rode up the elk was making his third charge, but Peterson evaded him again and gave him another tumble at the end of the rope. When about three hundred feet from Peterson the elk had again regained his feet, lowered his head for another charge, his eyes flashing fire, and with terrific bounds made for the plucky boy. It seemed to me that it would be impossible for him to get out of the way of those terrible horns. But again he let the elk pass by without touching him and again he brought the brute to the ground at the end of the rope, pulling him square over on his back. Quick as lightning Peterson reined his horse backward, tightened the rope, jumped out of the saddle, whipped out a big jack knife, and slashed it across the throat of the prostrate beast. I shouted to him with all my might to desist, as I expected to see him killed every second, but he heard nothing and saw nothing but that elk, and before I came up Peterson was back in his saddle. "What the devil did you do that for?" I shouted, as soon as I reached him. "I did na want loosse ma rope - da boys da laugh at ma.'* The other boys followed the bunch and C. N. Stern succeeded in roping two of them at one throw, but one of them got away. None of the boys that saw the sport will ever forget it.

Once seventy-five men started from Raymond lake, fifteen miles west of the head of Middle Loup, river to go to the Newman ranch on the Running Water. We were driving fifteen hundred head of cattle for the northern ranches. We missed our course and traveled for two days in a circle among the sand hills. We neither had water for horses or cattle, and on the third day the poor brutes became frantic with thirst. It took the utmost efforts of the men to keep them from breaking away, and their bellowing was something absolutely heartrending. Men could be seen on every hill around us trying to see if water could be discovered. At last I saw two men standing on a hill some distance off motioning in such a way that I knew they had found something. I rode up to them and found the nicest little lake of pure water I have ever seen among the sand hills. We all filled our kegs before letting the cattle into the water. After the rejoicing at our find had somewhat suicided we discovered that we were within half a mile of the place from which we had started three days before. We had a good compass, but all the men had declared the compass was no good. Stem had told them of an old trail which led to the Running Water, and they expected to follow that, but it was so dim they crossed it without noticing it, and kept traveling in a circle for three days. After a good breakfast and all the water we could drink, John Darr, two other cowbovs and mvself, were sent out to find the old trail, which we soon did, and led the party out of the wilderness, reaching our destination safely in due time.

Billy Smith, the new cook at Olive's ranch - a *'tenderfoot" from the East - stands with mouth wide open, with a huge piece of beef poised on a fork, preparatory to frying it for dinner for a hungry lot of cowboys who have just come in from the range. Some of them are lounging in their bunks, others playing cards, while still others are discussing the probability of Dick Milton being captured by Dick James, sheriff of Dawson county, who is looking for the noted outlaw.

"All right, Billy; TU give you an introduction to him one of these days," remarked John Finch, one of the youngest cowboys on the ranch, but as full of mischief as a monkey.

A few days later the boys were all gone from the ranch except John Finch and the cook, the latter being busy preparing the noonday meal for two. Happening to look out the small window of the log ranch house, John observed Sam Sweely approaching. In an instant the idea of having some fun with the cook occurred to him. Sam was a stranger to Billy, and withal he had some slight resemblance to the outlaw whose acquaintance Billy was anxious to make. Slipping out of the door, John intercepted Sam and laid his plan before him, and Sam, being somewhat of a wag himself, readily entered into the spirit of the scheme. The couple then entered the house. With a great flourish and show of extreme politeness, John said:

"Well, young man, have you got dinner about ready? I'm as hungry as a hyena," the meanwhile swaggering about the room making a great display of a couple of huge revolvers dangling at his belt. "Come, hurry up there, and don't be all day about it. D'ye hear?"

"Yes, sir," replied Billy, rather dubiously. "Mr. Olive is not at home, and I'm cooking until he comes back. Perhaps I can get a job from him."

"Well, sir, I want to hire a good, steady, reliable feller, and I've taken a kinder notion to you. How would fifty dollars a month strike ye, with the chance of a raise as soon as ye get onto yer job?"

"It's a bargain then, and you can commence this evening. I'll go out and see if I can find a horse for ye. Finch, you come out and show me where Olive keeps his saddle horses; I must have one for Smith. I'm a little short on horses just now, myself, but if we have good luck to-night I expect to have some good ones in the morning."

John and Sam started off to find a horse, leaving behind them the worst scared cook in Custer county. He had a good notion to slip out of the door and fly for his life, but he was afraid that the watchful eye of Milton would detect the flight and probably result in his being shot. He concluded to wait for a better opportunity.

Olive had an old pony that had its ears frozen so that one of them lopped forward and the other backward. He weighed about six hundred and fifty, and had the mange so bad that the hair was off in spots as big as a half bushel. In addition to his other infirmities he was lame in three legs, and altogether the sorriest looking pony a man ever saw. Sam threw his lariat over the beast and started to the ranch house with him, Finch skipping on ahead and entering the house. As he entered the door the cook said:

"I don't know, Billy; he's not a man to be monkeyed with, and I would advise you not to make him mad. You w^as a big fool to hire out to him; but it is too late to stjufal now, and you liad bt-tti-r uiako the best of it. There he comes with a hoi-se for ,voii and is motioning for you to come out."

"Well, von will have to do the best you can with him. Tonight we have a fifteen-mile dash down the river to a ranch where we can get vou a good popper. Take him to the stable, feed him some grain and brush him up a little, I will be back here at ten o'clock tonight, and shall expect you to be ready. D'ye hear?''

Billy returned to the house greaUy relieved to know that his new boss was to be absent for a few hours, while Ham and John, unable to keep so good a joke to themselves, crossed the river to tell Al. Wise and Billy Cole. While at Al, Wise's house they heard three shots fired in rapid succession over at

Olive's, and rushing across to see what was the matter, they found John Wheat lying on the ground almost splitting his sides Tvith laughter..

It appears that the cook, upon the departure of the supposed Dick Milton, came to the conclusion that discretion in this case would be the better part of valor, and hastily packing up his few belongings, he started to leave the country. He had gotten but a few rods from the ranch house when he was discovered by John Wheat, who called out to him to halt. Billy paid no heed to the command, but started to run, and Wheat, seeing a stranger trying to run away from him, determined to find out the reason why. He accordingly fired three shots over the fellow's head. Smith stopped and ran back to Wheat with a face as w hite as a sheet.

"My name is Smith, and I've been cooking for Olive. Old Dick Milton came along to-day and like a fool I hired out to him. He is going to hold up some ranch to-night and will be back at ten o'clock after me, and I'm going to get out of this before he comes.'' -

With this he started, and was just disappearing on the trail down the pivep, on a not very graceful trot, when Sweely and Finch returned to see who was shooting and discovered Wheat in the middle of his laughing fit. Poor Billy floundered along as far as Virg. Allyn's, better known as the Brighton ranch, where Billy Allyn kindly took a horse and volunteered to pilot the fugitive across the river, as the latter had concluded to try to make his way to Plum creek, where he thought he could evade the clutches of the terrible Dick Milton. In crossing the river the pony got stuck in the quicksand and Smith slid from his back into the water, waded to the opposite shore and took to the hills as fast as his legs could carry him. He got as far as Louis Wambsgan's on Wood river by dark, and put up there for the night, telling Wambsgan the whole story. When he went to bed he placed an old razor and a dirk made out of a case knife, under his pillow, resolved, if Milton should call for him before morning, to sell his life as dearly as possible. The next day he walked and ran into Plum Creek and told of his narrow escape, and also that Dick Milton had planned a raid on some ranch about fifteen miles down the river from Olive's the night previous.

It happened that this story came to the ears of Eugene Boblits and Captain Stuckey, who had been in IMum Creek for several days, and they concluded that their ranch must be the one that was to be raided. They at once mounted their horses, and put out for home through the darkness, where they arrived about daylight the next morning, fully expecting to find their horses an gone; but they were agreeably disappointed to find everything just as they had left it.

Some three years after the events narrated above, John Finch was waiting one day for the train in the station at Plum Creek, when he recognized Billy Smith in the crowd. John pulled his hat down over his eyes to keep Smith from recognizing him and beating him to death for the part he jdayed in the Milton deal. Conscience makes cowards of us all.

One of the most prominent and probably notorious places in Custer county is that which is owned by Dr. Victor H. Coffman of Omaha, Nebraska, and managed by Mr. R. C. Chumbley. It wa^ one of the first ranches of any note, improved and developed on the South Loup river. It is located five miles north of Oconto on the Kearney branch of the Union Pacific railroad. The history of the Brighton and Abel ranches refers to an experience which cost the Brighton ranch people quite |100,000. This history is that of men having confidence in the country. Their method of handling cattle was in the line of the open range system. Here was a country with the South Loup river running through the most beautiful valley in Nebraska, producing grass equal to any country, for meadows, and the hills growing the buffalo grass, a winter feed unequaled.

.The history of this ranch was a high-priced foreman, and the festive cowboys in number riding the range, which extended up and down this river for many miles. Had they spent part of that time putting up hay and providing feed for the winters, notwithstanding the fact of numerous contests and mismanagement which resulted so disastrously to the company, the results would have been different. Here was a good country adapted to stock-raising.

Dr. Coffman became interested in Custer county when he made a deal with Virgil Allyn in 1889, for his equity in the remnant of the Brighton ranch on the South Loup river. He transferred the management to Mr. R. C. Chumbley. Many of the owners of small tracts wished to dispose of their lands, which were purchased by Dr. Coffman, he having confidence in the country for cattle raising which he thought superior to any in the United States. He has continuously demonstrated his convictions by the purchase of adjoining lands DntQ the raDch nnw luntaiiiH six tUoiisaud acres, and to the satisfaction of the owner, who does not regret the money invested. Mr. Chumbley is now the lessee of this ranch, has it stocked with a large number of cattle and horses. He is prepared to raise one thousand acres of corn, which he puts in shock, averaging twenty-flve bushels to the acre. He can cut over one thousand tons of hay, alfalfa and native grass, handling one thousand head of cattle in summer and winter, it matters not what the season is.

The history of the immortal Custer is associated with this ranch to the extent of a battle ground with rifie pits still in evidence. It requires but a slight stretch of the imagination to recognize a band of Indians circularing down this valley in war paint until a squad of United States soldiers rose up from their ambush with a volley and then charge, making a picture of the early days of the ranchman's life on the South Loup river, prior to the railroads, which have been the greatest boon to the country's civilization.

The dash of the cowboy, the crack of the pistol, is the perspective of the picture of the present. The locomotive whistle, the telephone "hello," arc beard at the ranch, and at no distant day, the Kearney branch of the Union Pacific railroad, through the far-sighted general passenger agent, Mr. E. L. Jjomax. of the Union Pacific railroad, will recognize the necessity of a passenger train, instead of the present accommodation, transporting hogs, cattle.

women and children in the same train. The women appreciate a good thing, and like to ride on the cars, and there are many living in Cuater county who would not live in any other locality, who will remember him in their evening aapplications. and the children will riHC lip and call him blessed.

It now comes to the details of a description of the improvements which make this ranch of so much value. A large amount of fencing which is of th<> best, divides the farming and meadow lands from the pastures. These pastures are divided into winter and summer ranges, each adapted to the season in utilizing them.

At the home place are small pastures where the horses are kept, and others where the cows are. making it a convenience very much appreciated. There are three sets of buildings. Near the center of the place on the east bank of the river, is the home place, a very good house, surrounded by a grove of cedars planted years ago, and a locust grove which has supplied thousands of posts. There is a good barn and feed yards well sheltered by tlio hills and watered by a windmill, and covrals and branding and dehorning chutes, lauea. and gates and yards for cutting out and separating cattle. There is a bridge across the river at this phico, whi<;h is a great convenience to everyone who travels or has business in the locality. The county should recognize the necessity of a bridge at every road crossing on this river. There ia above the center of the ranch a small house for the u^e of the tenant, which materially adds to the convenience of operating the place. The upper, or Abel ranch, has a cedar log house, two stories, which will last a life time. It is situated at the foot of a large bluff which rises to the north, affording the best winter protection. A fine grove, and through this a stream of water fed by springs, which are perennial and truly hot springs, for they never freeze up. This is the banner winter place on the ranch and to be appreciated must be visited when a blizzard is blowing; then you can well imagine you are at a winter resort sure enough.

(By Puck.) One of the first ill-starred land deals in Custer county took place in the northwestern portion before the county was organized. A man whom we will call Jekyll first took a claim and afterwards abandoned it. As it was a valuable piece of land on account of the number of cedar trees growing upon it, which were worth thousands of dollars, several parties were very desirous of getting a filing on the land. Now Johnny Jumjvup ])ut off for the land office at Grand Island, and found upon his arrival there that the land was in the North Platte district. In the meantime Sinbad the sailor sent post haste for Hardy and furnished him a horse upon which the latter outstripped all competitors in the race to the land office. In consideration of Sinbad the sailor's assistance, Hardy was to give him a half interest in the land. While all this was going on, some parties induced Crazy Horse to move into the dugout on the abandoned claim left by Jekyll, to move his stock onto it and keep possession. This, of course, would give him first claim to the land and he could file his claim later. When Hardy returned from the land office with the claim in his pocket, as he thought, he was a very much disgusted man when he found Crazy Horse was in possession of the premises. lie counseled with Sinbad, who informed him that Crazy Horse undoubtedly had legal possession of the land. Hardy, nevertheless, proceeded to cut down some cedar trees and constructed a house, which induced Crazy Horse to take to the war path, and Hardy, being a timid man, vacated. Sinbad was again consulted and again promised a half interest in the land if he could help Hardy secure it. They then and there laid a scheme to scare Crazy Horse off the claim. A bogus court was organized, and Lawyer Slick was employed to represent Hardy. Judge Dried Corn issued papers for the arrest of Crazy Horse for threatening to shoot Hardy. Constable Carball brought Crazy Horse into court. After hearing the evidenccf the justice (who, by the way, was from Missouri,) looked the prisoner sternly in the face and said: "You must show me why you should not be sentenced to the penitentiary for life or else pay |500 for threatening to shoot Hardy." Crazy Horse could not show him, of course, being nothing but a poor, tinedu- cated man, and the judge, after carefully consulting the pages of an old agricultural report, sentenced Crazy Horse to two years in the penitentiary. Then Lawyer Slick took the prisoner to one side and agreed to have his sentence commuted provided he would give peaceable possession of the land and give Hardy two cows. With the penitentiary staring him in the face, Crazy Horse thought he was getting off cheap by agreeing to this arrangement, as shown by the record in the old agricultural report. Hardy moved into the dugout vacated by Crazy Horse and secured the land, but it may not be out of place to note here that when he found himself securely in possession he entirdy forgot his promise to Sinbad and kept the whole thing himself.

Elisha W. Clark, a hunter and trapper, was frozen to death in Powell canon, northeast of Arnold, in December, 1879. Clark had been a colonel in the war of the rebellion, was a widower, and had for a number of years followed hunting and trapping for a livelihood. He established his camp in Powell canon on December 2nd, his only companions being his team and a couple of large greyhounds. About a week afterwards he was seen by a cedar hauler on his way to Mr. Goodyear's hay stacks after some hay for his team, and said that he intended to carry the hay in his arms to his camp, which was three miles away. No more was thought of the trapper for some time by the few residents of the neighborhood, but one day the dead bodies of his two hounds were found near Mr. Goodyear's haystacks. The weather was intensely cold, and the ground was covered with snow, and it was feared that Clark might have shared the fate that had apparently overtaken his dogs. A search was immediately instituted, but no trace of the missing man or his team could be found. On the 1st of January a party of cedar haulers reported that they had found a wagon and two horses in one of the numerous pockets of Powell canon, and a party went at once to the place, where they discovered the horses. One of the horses was dead and the other nearly so. As Clark had been missing for three weeks, it is supposed that the poor animals had been there about that length of time. They had gnawed the bark off the tree to which they were tied and eaten every bush and twig within reach. One of the horses had eaten the limb off to which he was tied, thus saving

And Shobt 8Ketchb8 Of Birly Dais In Nkbba8Ka

Ilis life. Tlie party scoured the vkiuity thoroujthly without reeult. The county cuiuiiiiitaioiiers offered a reward of JSO to any one tiodinK the body of Clark. Diirinfi the following »i)jiuft, while huntlD^; foi- some horses, C. W. Hughe; of Arnold came aci^jss the dead body of the unfortunate trapper at the head of a small pocket in the canon, his giin by his side. He had evidently died OD his knees, apparently erawlinp; into the narrow place to get such protection from the cold as its walls afforded.

It was nearly night when he had been aeeu at the stacks after hay, and it te the supposition that in attempting to return to his camp in the darkness he became bewildered in the niazt- of pockets that indent the canon, until overcome with weariness he sank down and was frozen to death. The body was found five miles southwest of where his camp had been, and had he proceeded another mile in the direction in which he was apparently traveling when he succumbed, he would have come into the South l^up valley within sight of Chapin'e ranch.

Early in the fall of 1884 a few settlers located homesteads in the northeast corner of the Brighton Ranch Company's pasture, on Ash creek. This pasture was about fifteen miles square, and extended several miles south of the Loup river almost to Broken Bow, and was inclosed with a wire fence. The laud being government land, and subject to entry, these settlers served notice on the ranch company to remove their fence from about their claims within thirty days. The company paid no attention to this request, and at the expiration of the time the settlers made a raid on the fence and appropriated the posts to make roofs for their sod houses. Roofs in those days were made by laying a large log, called a ridge log, lengthwise of the building at the top. The fence posts were then laid up to form the rafters, to which brush was fastened, the whole being covered with one or two layers of prairie sod, coated with several inches of yellow clay procured from the canons, which turned water very effectually.

In a short time after the appropriation of these posts the foreman of the ranch had the settlers arrested and taken to Broken Bow for trial. The sheriff had no sooner departed with the prisoners than the second foreman of the ranch rigged up two large wagons, drawn by four niules each, and proceeded to the houses of the settlers, accompanied by a number of the cowboys. They drove up to a house, took a team and a large chain, hitched onto the projecting end of the ridge log, and in about three seconds the neat little home was a shapeless mass of sod, hay, brush and posts mixed up in almost inextricable confusion. The ranchmen then culled their posts from the wreck and loaded them into the wagons, when they went to the next house and repeated the operation, leaving the occupants to pick their few household goods out of the ruins at their leisure. The boys were having great fun at the expense of the settlers, cracking jokes and making merry as the work of destruction went on. After destroying several houses in this manner they proceeded to the claim of a Mr. King, and Mrs. King, seeing them approaching, met them with a shotgun and dared them to come on. Had it been Mr. King, the invitation would possibly have been accepted, but the cowboys were too gallant to enter into a quarrel with a lady, and withdrew without molesting her.

In the meantime a boy of the settlement had been despatched to Broken Bow on the fastest pony that could be procured, to secure help, and quite a posse of men from the town started for the scene of action. The foreman of the ranch, who was in Broken Bow at the time as complaining witness a[2:ainst the settlers, heard of this and sent one of his cowboys in haste to warn the second foreman of the impending invasion. This messenger arrived at the settlement in advance of the citizens and gave the alarm. Tlie housewreckers were thoroughly scared, and turning the heads of their mule teams towards the South Loup, applied the whip freely. As the mules began to run over the rough prairie the posts began to fall otT the wagons, and as the teams began to show signs of weariness the cowboys began to heave off more posts to lighten the load as they bum])ed along, leaving a trail behind them like that of a railroad construction gang. Arriving at the ranch, they turned out their mules, secured their Winchesters and made a break for the hills on the south side of the river to await developments. When the posse of rescuers arrived at the little settlement and found the invaders gone, they did not follow them, but returned to Broken Bow. The cowboys remained in the hills two days, watching for the approach of the enemy in vain.

The ranch company failed to make any case against the settlers, it being shown that the ranch pasture was government land and that the claims were lawfully held by the homesteaders, who had a perfect right to remove the fence which inclosed their property. The prisoners were accordingly released and were not again molested. The second foreman of the ranch was subsequently arrested for tearing down the houses of the settlers, tried at Broken Bow, found guilty, fined ?25 and costs and confined one day in the county jail.

At the time of the Olive trial most of the men connected with that ranch were absent as witnesses, help was very scarce at the ranch, and the few that were left there were principaUy engaged in "tailing up" cows that were so i)oor that they got stuck in the mud along the river and were not able to get up without assistance. Reader, did you ever attempt to "tail up" a spirited, ambitious cow? If not, you have missed a whole lot of fun - and so has the cow. A little experience of mine in that direction may be entertaining to the reader - I know it was to me. I had been dow^n at the corral attending to some horses when I noticed a cow on the bank of the river trying to get on ber feet, but falling back after each attempt. Not wishing to talie the trouble to saddle a horse, I went over to her on foot to asslBt her out of her difficulty. I booh saw that there was fight in her, but concluded she was too weak to make me auy trouble. Grabbing ber tail, I passed it over my Ehonlder and gave it several twists around by arm, getting as much of it in my hand as possible. The old cow puffed and shook ber head in protest. 1 paid no attention to her objections, but bent my back and lifted. The cow did likewise, and the way that old heifer got on her feet took the breath out of rae. I saw that she was on the warpath, and that my only hope of safety was to keep hold of her tail. Witli a bellow she turned ber glaring eyes around on me and took after me, spinning around like a top. By keeping a firm hold on her tail I just managed to keep a few inches ahead of her long horns. After a few turns to the right she tried it awhile to the left, but with no better sucess. The waltz was becoming awfully monotonous to me, and as we worked toward a bank about ten feet high by the edge of the river, I dropped her tail and jumped over it with one bound. The cow was a little dazed by the performance, but as soon as she realized the aituation she made for the bank, probably with the intention, of following me, but gave it up when Bhe came to the foot of it, pawed the ground and bellowed h-^r defiance, and walked away shaking her head, probably hooking me in her mind. Two days after this, as I was riding along the bank of the river, I saw the old lady down again, but I concluded to leave ber to her fate, and for all I know her bones are buried in the mud where I last saw her.

In the summer of 1879 a couple of young men drove up to the house of W. W. Potts with a fine span of mules and requested lod^ng for the night. One of the strangers was a tall, red-headed boy, and the other a stout lad of about the same age. The red-headed fellow was a great talker, and wanted to bring Mr. Potts a bunch of sheep to keep on shares. The other fellow was a fiddler and entertained the Potts family with some musical performances until it was time to retire. Mr. Potts lived in a dugout about fourteen feet square and the two boys were put to bed on the floor. They slept rather late the next morning, and as the door of the dugout consisted only of a blanket hung up as a curtain three horsemen who rode up before the family and their guests were astir, had no difficulty in finding out who was inside. Mrs. Potts was the only one in the house who was awake, and she saw the curtain cautiously drawn aside, revealing the face of a man who was peeking in. The man hastily stepped inside, drew a revolver and stood over the two sleeping boys. Another man outside fired a Winchester as a signal for two other men who were near by, as it afterwards appeared. But one can imagine the embarrassment of a farmer's family being awakened in the morning in this manner. Mr. Potts soon took in the situation, as he had had his suspicions of his two guests the night before. As a precaution he had taken their saddles and put them in the back of the dugout, so that if they had attempted to get np and leave in the night they could not get them without being discovered. The five men were from Buffalo county, and consisted of Captain Anderson, his deputy and three assistants. The boys had stolen the mnles from a saloon keeper at Kearney, and Anderson and his men were sent in pnrsnit of them. Mr. Potts had killed a fine, black-tailed deer the day before, and Mrs. Potts was called upon to exhibit her skill at cooking venison for breakfast for her seven uninvited guests. The boys were taken back to Kearney, tried, found guilty of stealing the mules and sent up for three years.

In the fall of 1878 Mr. and Mrs. Potts came up into Custer county looking for land and stayed all night at Asa Gipes'. The next morning as they were coming out of a canon they met a man with a load of meat and sopposed it was beef. On coming to old man Mitchell's place they found him eating dinner and were invited to dine with him. Mr. Mitchell asked Mr. Potts if he had ever eaten elk meat. Upon being answered in the negative he said:

Mr. Potts replied that if he had not been told he would have thought it was beef. He here learned that the man he had met in the morning was Ketchum and that he was on his way to Kearney with a load of elk meat, which was to be sold to a butcher by the name of Gebhart.

Note by Editor - Gebhart was afterwards put on trial to tell what kind of meat it was he bought from Ketchum and he replied that he "pought der meat from Mister Ketchum for eleck meat, he sells him for eleck meat, und he says noding else."

The city of Broken Bow is located in township 17, range 20, in the center of the county, near the head of the Muddy, a creek that runs through the town. The city enjoys the advantage of fine schools and has seven churches, in which religious services are maintained. It has had no saloons for two years. Business is good and the population is gradually increasing. Broken Bow is the county seat of Custer county, one of the largest counties in the state of Nebraska. It is known far and near on account of the oddity of its name. The name was suggested by a string of circumstnnces, rather than romance. In 1880, Wilson Hewitt, who was a homesteader, near where the city is now located, on request of the few settlers in the vicinity, petitioned the government for a jmstoftice at his place and sent in a name he thought was appropriate. The PostoflBce Department approved the application for an office, but rejected the name, as a similar name had been granted on another petition. Two or three other names were sent in, but were rejected for the same reason. Mr. Hewitt was a blacksmith and a hunter, and while out hunting one day found a broken bow and arrow on an old Indian camping ground, and carried them home with him. He put them in a box in his shop with some old irons and thought nothing more about them. Some time afterwards he reeeiviMi notifo that the third name he had wiit to Wjishinytou iiad been rejected, and, going to the box after a piece of iron, be jiicked up the broken bow and the name, "Broken Bow," came to his mtud iiuiekly. He determined to send it in as the mime for his postoflioe. xatistii'd that there was no other place of the same name in the state, ile consulted hiH wife, and she being willing, the name was sent in and was accepted bv the department. Just how the Indian bow came to be broken and left on the old camp ground, is only a matter of conjecture. The followinp romance, written l>y Mrs. M. A. B. Martin, one of the earlv settlers of the ooiinty, tells the storv of the broken bow:

Brokkn Bow

TO receive me bow nnd quiver: Dreamed he on till almost sunrise. When the war whoon echoed Through the canons on the praines Echoed up and down the Muddy,

For hlB foes had found him 8....^ - - Then they scalped the Eagle Feather For they numbered near a hundred i-'orced him for to (ell his errand. Then Ihev took his bow and quiver.

Pioneer History Op Custer Gounty

Threw it down to warn the Sioux tribe That they'd slain their Ea^le Feather. Then they took their sufferingr prisoner With them far beyond the South Loup. Let him die and soon forgot him. Many moons ^ew bright and darkened. Yet the Elagle Feather came not. Never ^me to claim his promise. Never ^bre returned to meet her. "He must be dead." she murmured lowly, "Or he would come to poor Winneta. Farewell. Eagle Feather, farewell. Tour Winneta's heart is breaking. Breaking for her Indian lover. I will go away in sadness To the wigwam of my mother. Lay me down and sleep the death sleep. In the spirit land I'll meet him. Meet him and my brave old father: In the hunting grounds of the red men. Happy land of the Great Spirits. Will commune with Eagle feather In the land beyond the sunset. Tears have passed and left the traces Of the Sioux and the Dakotas. Westward they have journeyed farther. And their tribes are growing smaller. Their hunting grounds are now rich com fields For the white man's plow and reaper: And their cabins dot the prairie. And they cut away the cedars. Frighten all the elk and bison From Nebraska's fair prairies. Years swept by. the pale-face settlers On the prairies of Nebraska. On the swiftly flowing South Loup. Built their cabins on the North Loup. Hunted on the Niobrara. Built their cabins on the Muddy.