Early, Texas - Trail Drivers of Texas : Interesting Sketches of Early Cowboys and The (part 13 of 20)

My father came from Missouri to Texas in 1847, and settled in Live Oak county. Assisted by my eldest brother, father cut logs in the river bottoms and hauled them up to Oakville where he built his home. He engaged in blacksmithing and my brothers, John and Joe, worked for the cattlemen in that region. Before the war they worked for the two Jameses. One was called Red Tom James and the other was Black Tom James, so called to distinguish them. Our neighbors were three to four miles apart. On the west side of the river lived Ray Williams, and other neighbors were the Dobeys, Shipps, and Bill Rix.

W. M. Shannon

At that time there were Indians prowling through the country and the settlers often lost their horses. The horses had to be herded in the day time and placed in strong pens at night, and then they were sometimes stolen by the redskins.

I was five years old when the Civil War commenced. For safety and protection father moved his family further East, but in 1869 we moved back to Oakville. I remember those days quite well, for we had a hard time making a living. Brother Joe, my two sisters and myself farmed with oxen. We had two heavy wagons and worked four yoke of oxen to each wagon. We also had two oxen that worked in single harness, with a short yoke and one bow in it. This yoke had a hook in each end to which the traces were fastened. Father would hook up the oxen in the morning and plow the corn and those fellows would follow furrows just like a horse. We lived on milk and butter, and wild game which was plentiful. Prairie chickens, wild turkeys and deer could easily be obtained, but breadstuff was scarce. Sometimes we had biscuits on Sunday morning. For coffee we often used parched okra or parched corn. Our clothing was made by hand. My mother and sisters spun and wove the cloth for our clothing. Father made a spinning wheel and loom when I was a small boy. I climbed to the top of the loom while mother was out of the room and fell off and broke my hip. So I guess I will never forget that old loom.

handle a gun, when I was quite small. He was a good shot and did a great deal of hunting. He gave me one of the old-time cap and ball five-shooter pistols and often took me with him when he went out hunting. I became quite expert in using that old pistol and could shoot a hog's eye out with ease. In those days there were lots of wild hogs in the woods as well as deer, panther, lobo wolves, and javelina hogs.

After we moved back to Oakville, Father bought a piece of land east of Oakville on the Beeville road, and when we moved there Grandfather Bartlett lived with us a great deal as he had no family of his own. He owned a good house in Oakville, but would come out to our place in winter time, and he and I would kill wild hogs. That is the way we secured our winter meat and lard. We would hook up a pair of ponies and go off down the creek to a water hole with a pot in which to scald the hogs. We would take along a wallet of bread, coffee pot, skillet and lid, a small sack of corn meal, his old cap and ball rifle, a roll of bedding, my five-shooter pistol, our saddles and three good dogs. When the dogs would find the hogs we would ride up and shoot them down, and grandfather would fasten a rope around the hog's tusks and we would drag it to camp.

My father built large pens for the cattlemen to pen their herds, and as a result there was lots of camping done at our place. Sometimes the stockmen camped there for as long as two weeks, and in consequence there was plenty of rawhide left laying around the place. A Mexican who worked for us, used his idle time in making quirts, whips, hobbles, and lariats from this rawhide. He taught me how to do this kind of work, and I became somewhat of an expert too, because of which I was often called '^Eawhide Bill."

My first trip up the trail was in 1878 with Bob Martin from Refugio county with 1,100 two-year olds and upwards. Our chuck wagon was drawn by two yoke of steers, and Adam Johnson, a negro, was our cook. We started our herd about the 15th of March, crossed the Colorado below Austin, went by Eound Rock and Georgetown. On the North Gabriel we had a heavy rain and hail and our cattle stampeded, drifted back and mixed up with one of the Kokernot herds. Next morning I was five miles from camp with a hundred steers. It took us two days to separate the cattle and get started on our way. We went by Waco, Cleburne and Fort Worth and crossed the Trinity Eiver. We crossed the Red River at Red River Station and took the Chisholm trail through the Indian Territory. We got by the Indians without any trouble. At Pond Creek we saw our first buffalo, and it seemed as if the plains were literally covered with them. I joined in the sport and killed my first buffalo by shooting him behind the shoulder.

I had my share of swimming swollen streams, passing through thunder storms and being mixed up in stampedes but did not get into an Indian fight.

We crossed Bluff Creek into Kansas and passed Newton about the last of May. There was a blacksmith shop, a store and a few dwellings there at that time, but the railroad soon came and Newton quickly grew to be a large town. We crossed Holland Creek and went to Abilene and there the cattle were sold, .and we all hit the back trail for Texas with our saddle horses and chuck wagon. Joe Shannon, Tom Williams, John Harrison, Buck Wright and myself were in the crowd. On my way back I met my old friend, D. S. Combs.

(Editor's Note. Since the above sketch was written Mr. Shannon has departed this life and gone to that bourne from which no traveler returns. He died November 2, 1921. Peace to his soul.)

William James Slaughter

Texas and the story of the cattle and sheep industries and the trail would be incomplete, was born on the outskirts of civilization in the state of Mississippi, November 9, 1835; died near Friotown, Frio county, Texas, August 31, 1906.

In January, 1836, the father, attracted by the wonderful and exciting news of Texas, with an intrepid band of followers, set out to join the forces in the field, maneuvering for the Independence of Texas, but on account of one obstacle and another having arisen, made slow progress, and only reached within one hundred miles of the glorious battlefield of San Jacinto, when they learned of the complete rout of the Mexican army under Santa Anna, and thus he was denied the cherished hope of participation in the conflict made historic by heroes for all time. He served the Republic for ninety days as a ranger, and when his enlistment had expired, with a few survivors of his original command, he hastened back to his home in Mississippi, soon to return to Texas, for as he expressed in his determination, ^^ Uncle Ben has got a taste of Texas and he can't get rid of it.'' Four years from the date of his first taste, he and family, already inured to hardships and privations, knowing that worse were probably in store for them, dared the future and soon found themselves identified with Texas, settling in the part known as East Texas where the subject of this sketch acquired amid varying vicissitudes under adverse conditions a liberal education, which he measurably expanded by contact with stern realities in life, that equipped him for achievements and success that came to him in his after public and private career.

In 1855 Mr. Slaughter came to Southwest Texas, locating a ranch in Atascosa county on La Parita Creek, near Pleasanton. On July 25, 1858, Mr. Slaughter and Caroline M. Vickers were most happily married at Georgetown. This good woman, ever undaunted and courageous at all times in the upbuilding of home, survives, esteemed and loved most endearingly by five living daughters, grandchildren, relatives and a host of friends uncircumscribed in numbers; all these rejoice to enjoy the privilege of calling her Grandma Slaughter.

Mr. Slaughter served most valiantly in the Civil War, and his excellent and soldierly conduct was attested specially by Capt. John W. Stayton, who was in 1888 made Chief Justice of the Supreme Court of Texas, of which Mr. Slaughter was justly proud that he held commendation from such a pure and noble man, ever conscious that as a Confederate soldier without regret he had made great sacrifice. Mr. Slaughter held tenaciously to the principles for which he fought, to the day of his death.

Sore and tired of war, he sought a new field hopeful of peacefully bettering his conditions when in 1865, with his family he located in the unorganized county of La Salle. For eight years for them it was worse than war. During the entire time the worst type of outlaws and hostile Indians murdered and plundered to such an extent as to render life and property insecure, and especially was life endangered. It is not known that any part of Texas during this time suffered from marauders like La Salle and surrounding counties. Here they pillaged boldly and without let. The situation was deplorable, to cope with which required men of iron nerve and doughty spirit to the limit - elements of Mr. Slaughter ingrown and in him firmly fixed for the worse, which

In 1873 he moved to Frio county, locating near the then prosperous and busy little Friotown, where he died as noted, surrounded by as fine a family as is contained in the Southwest, and as many friends as were the individuals that knew him. Things for several years were like those of the adjoining county, from which Mr. ^Slaughter had come; the Indian raids continued unabated, more frequent :and worse than formerly, discouraging to many indeed. Mr. Slaughter always was wont to say, '* When troubles multiply sooner or later they get their worst - then they mend." Things did mend, times got better, and in Frio county the greatest agent and factor in the accomplishment of such result was Mr. Slaughter, and it was spared to him to live three score years and ten, man's allotment, to witness his fond hopes of good government reign supreme, with plenty and prosperity abounding, and happy homes building where once existed chaos, confusion and desolation.

From poverty to wealth of immense proportion Mr. Slaughter by indomitable exertion, helpfully stimulated by the encouragement of his faithful companion, his venerable relict, provided well, and the extended possession originally known as the Slaughter Eanch was one of the largest in West Texas.

He was a qualified man of business, had a thorough insight of cattle, horse and sheep raising, and no detail of importance escaped his attention. As a cattleman, driver of herds to Kansas and other markets, sheepman, and promoter of other enterprising matters, he was safe, conservative and eminent - signally successful.

The heart, the head, and the hand of this man throughout his busy Hfe joined in right doing, and his efforts were not confined to his advancement solely, but he labored for others as well. He was the purest type of citizenship, a just, honest and upright man; he belonged to the class that worked for the happiness of the people among whom he lived; and if the almost unremembered kindnesses bestowed upon the rich and poor alike were recounted, they would fill a large book. His money and his name saved many from insolvency; his word was his bond, never violated. It recurs to the writer in this connection that Mr. Slaughter, with others, was once on a contractor's bond, and default of compliance was made and payment of damages demanded on the obligation, when it was suggested that payment could be averted. This suggestion Mr. Slaughter resented, and to his honor be it said that he paid without murmur the full liability of all, running into thousands of dollars.

James Alfred McFaddin of Victoria, Texas, was as closely identified with Texas and its development as any man in the state. His grandparents, James McFaddin and wife, came to Texas from Tennessee in 1817, stayed about a year, moved to Louisiana and returned to Texas in 1821, when J. A. McFaddin 's father, William McFaddin, was about two years of age. They settled in Liberty county and after a few years moved to Jefferson county. His grandfather and father were soldiers in the Texas army in the War of Independence between Texas and Mexico.

William McFaddin was married to Miss Rachel Williams, and the subject of this sketch was their oldest child, born May 5, 1840, at Beaumont, Texas. He received his schooling at Beaumont, finishing his education at a private school in Galveston, Texas.

When J. A. McFaddin was fifteen years of age he was doing a man^s work. In 1855 he helped drive a herd of cattle from Jefferson county to Refugio county, about 400 head owned by his father and Mr. Herbert. In 1858 they brouglit out a second herd of 600 head, and J. A. McFaddin was placed in charge of these cattle. At that time he owned about fifty head of cattle and twenty-five head of horses, and from this start he increased his property to his present splendid possessions.

ter of Eichard Coward and Harriet Coward, in Galveston county. From the old Coward homestead on Clear Creek the young couple took their wedding journey on horseback, going to Louisiana, and returning from there to Beaumont. From there they rode to the home built by J. A. McFaddin on Melone Creek, about three miles from Refugio, bringing their household goods in a wagon.

The Trail Drivers Of Texas 613

In 1863 he joined the army of the Confederacy as first lieutenant in Capt. Dan Doughty 's company. From that time to the close of the war he was with this company in active service. Their operations extended from Eefugio to the Eio Grande, and from Corpus Christi north to the frontier. His story of the privations these men endured equals in fortitude, courage and endurance that of any band of men who ever fought for a just cause. Large portions of the territory they covered were deserts. Frequently they lived for days with nothing to eat excepting meat and coffee, sometimes not coffee, sometimes neither. They never went into winter quarters, and in fact did not have quarters at all. They fought the Federals, the Mexicans and the bandits. They were peace officers, rangers and soldiers, and J. A. McFaddin did his part.

His oldest child, A. M. McFaddin, one of the ex-presidents of the Texas Cattle Raisers' Association, and member of the Texas Live Stock Sanitary Commission, was born during his father's absence in the army. Notwithstanding J. A. McFaddin 's anxious desire to be with his wife and child, and to look after his worldly goods, he stayed with his command until Lee and Grant met at Appomattox, and the news came down to Texas that the cause for which he was fighting was a lost cause. It was not until then that J. A. McFaddin turned his horse's head toward the Coward home in Galveston county, where his wife and son were. He brought them to his home on the Melone, and again took up his life's work.

He was by that time regarded as one of the foremost citizens of his section of the state, and not only attended to his own business affairs but managed the properties of many others. Even in those days the business of others handled by him brought in thousands and thousands of dollars. During the years from 1867 to 1874 he had many thousands of dollars in his charge. He filled every safe in the town of Refugio with silver, had several boxes full of it in Mr. McCampbelPs store, had his own safe so full that not another fifty-cent piece could be put in it, and had two nail kegs full of silver in his room. Frequently during this time he was away from home, and often his wife was alone at home with the servants. This was a condition of the times. But the people of that section had such a love for J. A. McFaddin and his good wife that not even the Mexicans or negroes ever attempted to steal as much as fifty cents of this money. His possessions and the possessions of others in his charge were regarded as sacred, for the people loved the McFaddins.

In the years from 1873 to 1878, times changed and the cattle rustler made his appearance. It was then again that J. A. McFaddin came to the front. The mandate went forth that stock stealing must stop, and it stopped in that section. Of a kindly disposition, easily approached, and never heedless of the cry of distress, nevertheless Mr. McFaddin was stern and uncompromising when it came to a matter of right and wrong. The wrongdoers knew that if they depredated on the property of McFaddin or McFaddin 's people, that a grim and relentless pursuer would be on their trail, and they, too, grew to respect this just and courageous man.

In 1876 he sold out in Eefugio county, and took his family to the southern part of Victoria county, where he had purchased large bodies of land, and all of which he owned up to his death. This land is now located at the station of Marianna. For three years they lived on this ranch. It became necessary that he should be in position to observe the financial affairs of this section of the state, and get more in touch with its stockmen. They moved to Victoria, buying Col. Rogers' old home, where Mr. McFaddin still lives.

J. A. McFaddin 's father was a stockman, and he was brought up a stockman. He had followed the stock raising business his entire life. He kept abreast of the times, however, and even ahead of them. Thirty years ago he commenced his work of solving a most serious problem of the Texas cattle raiser, the tick on cattle. He observed that the Brahma breed did not have ticks on them; that they were more prolific, hardy and matured better than the other breeds of cattle. He bought a herd of Brahma cattle. There were not many of these in proportion to the cattle owned by him, but it was a start. At the World ^s Fair in St. Louis he saw in Hagenbeck's menagerie a magnificent Brahma bull and cow. This was his opportunity. He made a number of visits to the menagerie. The manager was attracted by the genial disposition of Mr. McFaddin, and they became fast friends. Very soon they agreed that Mr. McFaddin ought to have these Brahma cattle, and the tick problem was finally solved. The Hagenbeck bull, ** Prince, '' became the head of his herd. Today the thousands of cattle owned by J. A. McFaddin are graded Brahmin cattle, immune from ticks, and he has several hundred head of practically purebred Brahma cattle, the offspring of *^ Prince" and two other bulls imported from India by the estate of H. A. Pierce and Thomas O'Connor. He had at the time of his death a breed of cattle second to none for the combination of the qualities of prolific breeding, early maturing, beef producing, hardiness and immunity from ticks. About fifteen years ago this far-sighted man saw that the old range cattle business would in time cease to be profitable, and he prepared himself accordingly. He had seen land in this section of the state go from ten cents an acre to seventy-five dollars an acre. Cattle raising on high priced land does not pay. The time was coming for a change from the old range style of cattle raising to the stock farming proposition. He had always done some farming. He had several thousand acres of land that had been swamp, and which had been thrown in with his purchase at from $1.00 to $1.50 per acre. It was not suitable for grazing. He reclaimed this land by leveeing it and cleared it, all at a large expense. It is now fully protected from overflow, and is a magnificent field. On this land, in 1912, his corn crop averaged seventy bnshels per acre, his cotton about three-fourths of a bale to the acre - ^most of the tracts growing a bale to the acre ; some more. He constructed a levee along the Guadalupe Elver and across to the high lands, over twelve miles in length. This has reclaimed more than five thousand acres of overflow land. He estimated that the cost of building the levee, clearing and putting the land in shape for cultivation, building tenant houses, barns and other improvements would be about $100,000. But there has been over five thousand acres reclaimed of alluvial soil as a farming proposition. The cattle raiser is fast becoming a stock farmer.

This ranch, which is being converted into a vast farm, aggregates about forty-two thousand acres. In addition he had about twelve thousand acres of land eight miles north of the city of Victoria. Besides these, he had other lands which made him a comfortable living.

Mr. McFaddin did not ask aid from the county or the state. He built his own levees and roads, digging ditches, and building school houses. He did not ask for issuance of road bonds, drainage bonds, school bonds nor levee bonds. In other words, no other man's lands were taxed to put improvements on the McFaddin lands.

In his home life, Mr. McFaddin was as successful as in his business career. For nearly fifty years, he and his wife lived happily and contentedly together. Mrs. McFaddin assisted him greatly in achieving success. One of the most charitable women ever in that section of the state, she was loved by all who knew her. No strangers passed by their ranch house without being invited to partake of their hospitality.

Mr. McFaddin has indelibly impressed upon that section of the state his mark as a genius in executive and business ability. Mrs. McFaddin died in June, 1911, but she left the impress of her character upon the social life of the community, and she will be remembered with love and affection for generations. These two sturdy Texas pioneers have helped the people of this state to change from a wilderness to a great commonwealth, and they will go down in the history of this state as promoters of law and order, of peace and happiness. On June 25, 1916, Colonel McFaddin died very suddenly at his home in Victoria, aged seventy-six years.

An Old Cow Hand

I was born near Sweet Home, in Lavaca county, Texas, October 10, 1850. I came to what is now Bee county in 1856 with my parents, Henry and Regena Ryan. My mother died in 1862, and father died in 1902. W^orking horses and cattle has been my occupation the most of my life. I farmed about twelve years.

My first trip to Kansas was in 1871, with H. T. Clare as boss. He drove beef steers for Jim Reed and Tom O'Connor. I remember well our first night in Indian Territory, for we did not sleep much. Five herds crossed Red River that day, in charge of H. T. Clare, D. Rachal, Buck Gravis, John Henry Choate, John Booth and Rutledge and Bill Gentry. I think every herd stampeded. I know when our herd was stopped several miles from the starting point. I was the only man that stayed with them and when the sun came up it rose in the west for two mornings before it rose in the east with me. Fortunately I never got turned around any more. Bud May of Yoakum, John Holland, John Stewart, Monroe Stewart, Bud Clare and myself brought the horses and wagon back to Texas. That fall and winter I drove cattle to the Rockport packery, and later worked in a cow outfit for Pat Burke. Made two trips to Colorado with horses for myself.

In 1873 H. T. Clare, Tom Marsden, Gus and Hillary Clare and myself drove horses and mules to Eed Eiver, Lamar county, and there we held them in camp for seven weeks on account of yellow fever. We made no sales.

John Pat Eyan

Jack Hughs, and John M. Corrigan. In 1876 and 1877 J. I. Clare and myself ran a cow outfit. In 1878 I took charge of a herd for J. I. Clare, J. E. Little and P. S. Clare and went to Fort Worth. There I sold some fine springer cows for them. I got hurt in a stampede and had to quit and come home. Bill Raglan came up with a herd for Jim Scott and they put both herds together and

In 1879 I took a herd to Northwest Texas, and in 1880 I drove a herd for D. C. Jordan of Montague county to Indian Territory. Buck Pettus, Jim Eeed and Jim Kay put up the cattle on the range.

William C. Irvin

The following sketch was taken from the *^ History of Southwest Texas,'' published in 1907: William C. Irvin was born at Seguin, Texas, in 1846, a son of J. A. and Sarah (Tom) Irvin. The father was a native of Alabama and located in Texas in 1838. His death occurred in 1865. The mother represented an old family of Tennessee, some of its members having become distinguished in the early history of Texas, particularly in Indian fighting. Her brother, Captain J. F. Tom, was numbered among the early pioneers of this state and had command ol a company of rangers during the Civil War and took active part in subduing the redman both prior and subsequent to the war.

William C. Irvin has two sisters, Mrs. Ann Elizabeth Dewees and Miss Tommie Irvin, who make their home in San Antonio. Mr. Irvin was reared in Guadalupe county. He was quite young at the time of his father's death, and later lost his elder brother so that the responsibility of caring for his mother and sisters was thrown npon him at a very early age. He took his place at herding cattle when quite yonng and has been engaged in the stock business throughout his entire life. He made trips over the old Chisholm trail soon after it was first opened, and became thoroughly familiar with all the cattle country from the Rio Grande to the Canadian border, and has passed through all the hardships of the cattleman's life of the early days although owing to his conservative business qualities and careful management he has escaped the difficulties which usually confronted the stockman's career. He made altogether seven trips over the trail to the north, and on his return trip in 1875, he located a ranch at Seymour, in Baylor county, where he placed 7,000 head of cattle during the winter. He remained in that district about five years, and then returned to the southwestern part of the state, establishing v/hat is known as the Irvin ranch in La Salle county, this ranch embracing 60,000 acres of land, lying east of Cotulla and almost bordering the limits of the town, although the house stands twenty miles from that place. During the last few years there has been a great influx of settlers to this region so that the land has become very valuable and perhaps in due time the ranch will be divided into farms for it is becoming too valuable to retain as pasture land. Mr. Irvin has sold 10,000 acres for cultivation.

Mr. Irvin has become one of the wealthiest stockmen of this state. He has spent a busy, active and useful life and through his careful business management and sound judgment and has now acquired a competence that enables him to leave the more arduous duties of a business career to others, while he spends a portion of his time in his home in San Antonio, while his ranch is managed by his two sons.

Mr. Irvin was married in Seguin to Miss Medina Dewees, a representative of a prominent pioneer family of this state. Their family numbers two sons and four

The subject of this sketch is one of the successful cattlemen, commission merchants, and bankers of Texas. He was born in Dawson, Ga., December 6, 1867, and came to Texas with his parents when he was four years old, settling at Menardville. Mr. Russell started in the cattle, business when he was fifteen years old, his first venture being in connection with the driving of a herd into New Mexico. Later he became an employee of the Nathan Hall Cattle Company of New Mexico, at a salary of $35.00 per month, which was shortly afterward increased to $65.00 per month upon his promotion to the f oremanship of the Western Eanch. He remained in that position one year, when a second promotion installed him as beef manager, his duties including a safe delivery of the company's cattle in Oklahoma, Colorado and Montana. In 1889 he became affiliated with the Russell-Bevans Co. as their beef manager, in which position he had the opportunity and right to operate on his own account, and in three years his personal business had grown to such proportions that he then started in business for himself. He later admitted his brother, W. W. Russell, and T. P. Kyger into business as his partners, and the firm continued until 1910, when he purchased the interest of the Stock Yards Loan Co. of Kansas City of which he is vice-president, the Cassidy-Sonthwestern Commission Co. of which he is vice-president, director and assistant general manager. He is also vice-president of the Fort Worth State Bank, president, Bank of Hardy, Okla., and vice-president of the Citizens National Bank of Pawhuska, Okla. He is a stockholder in the Farmers & Merchants Bank of Ballinger, Texas; a stockholder in the Co-operative Eealty Co. of Fort Worth. He is interested in several large cattle companies, and controls large ranch holdings in Texas and Oklahoma, as well as being interested in mining properties. He is vice-president of the Metropolitan Hotel Co., and other investments.

On October 14, 1895, Mr. Russell was married to Miss Mary Callan, a member of a prominent Texas family. He is a member of several fraternal organizations, among them the Shriners, Elks, Woodmen of the World, Eagles and Odd Fellows.

Thomas B. Saunders

Thomas B. Saunders, senior member of the firm of T. B. Saunders & Co., noted live stock brokers of Fort Worth, Texas, was born in Goliad county, Texas, September 23, 1872. He is the son of W. D. H. and Ann (New) Saunders. Mr. Saunders attended school in this locality until he was seventeen years old, when, in common with other youths of that era, he assumed the sterner activities that called for attention. In 1889 he began working in the cattle business in which he acquired considerable valuable knowledge that equipped him for his chosen line of business. For a time he worked for his father, then his uncle, George W. Saunders, employed him in the commission business in San Antonio for three years. In 1893 he went to Houston where he worked in the commission business for several months, and when he attained the age of 21 years he determined to engage in business on his own account, and under the name of Saunders & Hotchkiss the firm that he established became a potent factor in the commission live stock trade for seven years of its existence. Whe^i the packing houses located plants in Fort Worth in 1900, Mr. Saunders immediately perceived the field for wider operations that he had constantly sought, and he moved to Fort Worth where he remains today. He was the first trader to do business on that market, and soon became a familiar figure until now he is acknowledged one of the heaviest buyers and strongest traders frequenting that market. His business has prospered steadily and his transactions on the market alone aggregate an average of 100,000 head of cattle handled annually. Mr. Saunders is also an extensive operator in ranches. He, together with C. L. Brown and Lee Russell, control large ranch interests near Avant, Okla., where they pasture more than 7,000 cattle. He also has ranch interests in Texas. Mr. Saunders married Miss Hattie Straw in San Antonio in 1899. They have two children, Thomas B. Jr., and Miss Venita Saunders. No man enjoys higher esteem among his contemporaries, or is more universally respected.

Thos. B. Saundebs Ate Terrapin And Dog Meat, And Was Glad

On the 3rd day of January, 1855, I first saw the light of day, on Wilbarger Creek, twenty miles below Austin, in Travis county, Texas. Lived there until I was twelve years old, then mother sold the place and moved to Bas- trop, where she and my stepfather taught school. When I was sixteen years old one of the Murchison boys asked me to go up the trail with him. Of course I was willing but my mother objected, and it took a great deal of persuading on the part of Pete Murchison and myself to get her to consent for me to go. She gave in to our entreaties, however, and I accompanied Pete to a shoe shop where he ordered a pair of boots made for me. Those boots cost $14.00. He also gave me a pair of bell spurs, a Colt's cap and ball six-shooter, and a rim-fire Winchester, as well as a pair of leather leggins which cost

A Texas Longhorn

$12.00. This was the first time in my life that I had been rigged out, and you bet I was proud. He sold me two horses and agreed to pay me a good salary. We started with the herd about the middle of March, 1871, with 2,500 head of stock cattle. Among the boys in our bunch were Glabe Young, Pinkey Stull, Peter Sneed, Johnnie White and several others whose names I cannot recall. We crossed the Colorado about a mile below Austin, and drove out below Manor and camped on Cottonwood Creek that night. As I was only two miles from where my grandmother lived, Pete and I went there to stay all night. Leaving there early the next morning we went back to the herd and were soon on the trail again. When we reached Brushy Creek it was up and we camped on this side crossing over the next day. This was the first stream I ever helped to swim a herd across. The next creek we crossed was called Boggy, and it lived np to its name, for it would bog a snake. Before we reached Alligator Creek we had a heavy rain and hail storm. When w^e got to the Gabriel it was bank full but we swam it, and on the other side we counted our cattle and found thirty short.

The first lot of Indians I saw was when we reached the Territory, and then I wished I was home with my mother. We reached our destination, Kansas City all right, where Pete sold out, and we came back home together, coming back by Austin where we were paid off. When I reached home I gave all of my wages to my mother, stayed there three days and went back to the ranch to work for Murchison.

In 1872 I again went up the trail but before going I bought my second pair of boots from the same man who made my first pair. On this drive we followed the same route we had taken the year before. It rained and stormed almost all of the way, and we had to swim all of the streams we crossed. This was a sad trip for us. While we were in the territory, near where Oklahoma City now stands, our herd stampeded and mixed with another herd there and we had a hard time getting them separated. Several of the men in the other outfit had some trouble and a regular battle took place, in which nine men were killed. None of our hands were mixed up in it. I understand the row started between two boys over a stake pin. We buried the dead men as best we could right there on the prairie.

The Trail Drivers Of Texas 627

1875 and 1876 Snyder sent herds to Wyoming. While there I was in a party that went to join Custer, but when we reached Fort Reno he was gone. But we had several fights with Indians anyhow. Then I went to Kansas City, sold my horse and came back to good old Texas.

I started in 1879, but got done up just about the time we reached the Territory. I was carried to an Indian camp and there I had to remain three months. While there I ate dry land terrapin and dog meat cooked together and was glad to get it. Finally the old chief went to Texarkana and got some one to come after me. A. United States marshal brought me to Austin in a buggy.

Gives Some Early Texas History

I was born on the banks of the San Jacinto Kiver, in Montgomery county, Texas, April 4, 1844, while Texas was still a Eepublic with a president and cabinet of officers. In 1845 we were annexed to the United States which gladdened the hearts of the few people in Texas at that time. I will relate a few things which I heard from the lips of some of General Sam Houston's soldiers about the battle of San Jacinto. My mother had three brothers who were in that battle, Billie Winters, John Winters and J. W. Winters. *^ Uncle Jim'' as we called him, died in Frio county some twenty years ago. He often told me about that fight, and said it did not last longer than thirty minutes. They killed six hundred Mexicans and captured about six hundred, among the prisoners being General Santa Anna. Three Americans were killed and four wounded ; General Houston and Billie Winters were among those who received wounds. My mother was camped within hearing distance of the battle. The first news she had from the battlefield was to the effect that Gen. Houston's forces were all killed, but in a little while word came that the Mexican army had been defeated and utterly routed. My stepfather, Charles A. Edwards, was a cavalry officer under Captain Lamar, but was on scout duty with Lieutenant Karnes when the battle occurred.

During the early days in Texas there were no farming implements. Horse collars were made from shucks, plow lines from rawhide, wagon wheels were sawed from a sweet-gum log, which served to good advantage. In the winter of 1849 we sold our wagons at Huntsville, and twelve miles from Hallets- In 1861 I joined a Texas home, bought two large moved to Lavaca Creek, ville, the county seat. Ranger Company. John Donaldson was my captain under Col. J. S. Ford at Brownsville. When we arrived at Brownsville we camped in the fort there. There were twenty recruits in our bunch; my brother, A. J. Cude, recruited for the company. There I heard my first bugle call, and when I asked brother Jack what it was he told me it was the rations call. He went to get the rations and returned mth some sacks of grub. He informed me that some soap was in one of the sacks, and as I wanted to wash out some of my clothes I took out what I supposed to be a cake of soap, wetit down to the river and used it. When I got back I complained to him that the soap was no good. When he looked at it he gave a hearty laugh and informed me that I had not used soap. The stuff was peloncia (Mexican ^ugar).

The Trail Drivers Op Texas 629

We remained on the border about a year, guarding the Rio Grande from its moutli to Rio Grande City. In June, 1862, we left the border service and went to San Antonio and joined the Second Texas Cavalry under Col. Charley Pryon. James Walker was lieutenant colonel. He was placed in Sibley's Brigade and Bankhead Magruder was our general. In October we were ordered to the coast near the mouth of the Brazos, where it was said Union forces were landing. Later we were ordered to Houston, and about the middle of December the Yankees captured Galveston. A call was made for volunteers to go on the steamboats to go to Galveston. As most of the volunteers were cavalrymen and as they had to fight on water they took the name of horse marines. General Magruder recaptured Galveston after a fight lasting less than an hour. This battle was fought on the first day of January, 1863. We captured one warship and two transports, sunk one warship and captured about five hundred prisoners. We had two steamboats with about two hundred men on each boat. One of our boats was sunk, but it was in shallow water and no one was drowned. Captain Pryon remained on the Island until June and was sent to Lousiana. General Tom Green was now our commander and our brigade soon joined the Confederate army under General Taylor. General Banks' Union army was on its way to Texas, 35,000 strong. Our army numbered about 17,000 men, and was composed of Arkansas, Texas and Louisiana troops.

Indians On The Move

The two armies met about the 15th of June and fought a three days' battle in which Banks was defeated. We captured several thousand prisoners and many wagon loads of supplies.

After this I was in a number of desperate engagements and was captured and taken to City Point, Virginia. Later we were taken to Jackson, Miss., on parole. After we reached Jackson, Miss., four of us left there one night and walked from there to Beaumont, Texas, in sixteen days. My shoes had worn out and when I got to Houston I went to a store and bought a new pair and told the clerk to charge them to Jeff Davis.

The Trail Drivers Of Texas 631

My experience was hard on me and I endured many hardships and privations, sleeping on the bare ground nearly three months after I was captured. In 1864 our regiment was stationed on Galveston Island and remained there until the end of the war, and we had an easy time there. Our duty was to ride the beach five miles and back every two hours and watch on a signal station day and night. The enemy's warships would come around and shell us occasionally, but never any of us got covered up with sand except one time when one of the big shells weighing 164 pounds hit near us.

In the summer of 1864 yellow fever broke out in Galveston and fourteen members of our company were stricken. Captain C. D. McEae and James Cowley died. Our company was camped on the west end of the Island during the last year of the war.

In the fall of 1865 I went to school at Moulton, Lavaca county, and in 1866 I went to Live Oak county where I secured a wagon and ox team and hauled freight from Indianola to San Antonio. That fall I hired to a man named H. "Williams who lived on Lagorta Creek, thirty miles from Oakville. Only a very few settlements were there at that time. One family named Weaver lived about a mile from the Williams place, and there were two grown girls in the Weaver family. These girls would assist their father in hunting cattle, and carried their pistols with them wherever they went. They had a pack of hounds and hunted with them. One day they found where a panther had killed a colt belonging to their father, ten miles from their home, so they came to the Williams ranch and got two of Mr. Williams ' daughters to go with them to hunt the panther. About one o'clock in the morning two of the girls came back to get help to kill the panther as they had found it. Mr. Williams sent me to help them, giving me an old Enfield rifle to use. We reached the place where the other two girls were about daylight, and found they had the panther treed.

I dismounted and took a shot at him, the ball passing through his foot, and causing him to jump out and make for me. I could not run, for those four girls were all looking at me, and expecting me to do something. Luckily one of the dogs laid hold of the panther about that time and things got interesting. The other dogs took a hand in the fight and the panther whipped them all, fearfully mangling some of them. I rushed in and killed

Dancing In The Cow Camp

In 1867 I made a crop in Gonzales county, and in the fall of the year I drove my first cattle, going to Houston for a man named Tumlinson with about fifty head. I made ten bales of cotton that year and collected $15 per bale for war taxes.

On January 2, 1872, I married Miss Mary Harrell. Her hair was black then, but it is not now, for time has changed it to a silvery grey. I often think of the many changes that have occurred during the last forty-nine years. My wife's father was Milvern Harrell and he deserves worthy mention in the history of the Old Trail Drivers of Texas. He went to Kansas several times with cattle. During the Civil War he drove cattle to Louisiana for the Confederate army. Previous to the Civil War in 1846, he joined a company under Dawson, about fifty men in all and when they reached the Salado near San Antonio they were surrounded by a large force of Mexican cavalry and captured, only three Americans making their escape. Mr. Harrell was wounded with sabre cuts and was taken to Mexico City and imprisoned for twelve months. He told me the Mexicans were very kind to him while he was in the hospital there. When he was released he went to Vera Cruz and sailed to New Orleans. Students of Texas History are familiar with the account of the massacre of Dawson's men.

Drove Horses To Mississippi

I was born May 1, 1843, in the town of Gonzales, in the Republic of Texas. My mother died when I was an infant, and I was one of those who had to suck a bottle. My father bought a small tract of land near the Guadalupe Eiver, two miles north of New Braunfels, and we moved there when I was four years old. Among other things we raised a great many watermelons on this place which were taken to San Antonio and sold to soldiers stationed there. Father owned a trusty negro slave who would take the melons there, and I often went with him in a wagon drawn by oxen. We would usually be away from home two nights, and of course I had to sleep on a pallet on the ground with the old negro man, but I was always glad to make the trip and see the sights in San Antonio, which at that early date was considered a large town. If the government buildings would have been re-

When I was seven years old father bought and settled on a larger tract of land seven miles north of New Braunf els, on what was called the Springtown Eoad, leading to San Marcos. I grew up here, and when the Civil War came on I enlisted in the Confederate army. I have papers to show that I served four years in the Confederate ranks. I also have my amnesty certificate, which restored my citizenship.

In May, 1868, Joe Burleson and myself formed a partnership and bought 250 head of horses, suitable to work on farms and drove them to Water Valley, Mississippi. As there were but few boats and bridges we had to swim many streams on account of high water. One time while we were camped in Arkansas a hurricane passed near us. The thunder and lightning was terrifying and we had to keep riding around our horses to prevent them from stampeding and running off.

Soon after I returned from this trip to Mississippi, Capt. E. B. Millett came to me and asked me to take charge of 1,000 beeves and drive them to California, and he would take another 1,000 to Dakota. But I had not fully recovered from a serious illness and had to decline his offer.

There are four counties, that corner with each other near York^s Creek, about four miles from my father ^s old home, Comal, Guadalupe, Caldwell and Hays, and in my boyhood days I hunted cattle in all of those counties. Often we had some rough times, being exposed to hot and dry weather in the summer and cold and wet in the winter. There were no pastures then - strictly a free range country.

When Jim Dobie Lost His Pants

I was born in Pike county, Alabama, August 2, 1855, and came to Texas in 1876, landing at Houston, but there I decided to go west in search of adventure. I boarded the Sunset, which had not then been completed to San Antonio, and stopped at Luling, and from there I went by wagon to Gonzales where I secured work on a farm owned by G. W. Newberry. Five months later I went to Live Oak county, where Robert Dobie and I bought a bunch of horses which we drove to East Texas and peddled* out. In 1876 I gathered horses with Dave Johnson for my brother-in-law, H. B. Newberry. Our camp was near where George West is now located. We drove these horses to East Texas, and while passing through Williamson county we stopped at Old Man Olive's ranch and were treated royally. After disposing of this herd I went to work for J. M. Dobie. After I had been working there almost a year Mr. Dobie bought 500 or 600 horses from Isam Bailey and put in some of his own to send up the trail. I do not remember just how many there were in the herd, but I do recollect that they could run, especially on a dark stormy night. After we got the herd trimmed to Jim's lilting, and his four horse chuck wagon loaded with lots to eat, we started for Dodge City, Kansas. We intended to drive to the McKenzie ranch the first night where we expected to pen the stock and get a good night's rest. We reached the pens about dark and just as the lead horses started into the pen an old peacock, perched in an oak tree, gave one of his hideous squalls and those horses stami^eded, and there was no sleep for us that night. Afterward every time I saw one of those fowls I felt like killing it. We traveled on until we reached the San Saba River, where the worst hail storm I ever experienced suddenly descended upon us. Our slickers were in the chuck wagon, so I got a wetting as well as a hard beating. When the storm was over the boys picked up hail and filled the water barrel, and when I came in to camp they asked me if I wanted a drink of ice water. I told them I would like to have a drink but it was not ice water I needed. When we reached Albany the boss loaded the chuck wagon with everything good to eat, including all kinds of dried fruits. We had a good cook named Juan Gomez, but he had never cooked dried apples, and the first time he attempted it the outcome was rather amusing. He filled the kettle full of the dried fruit and it soon began swelling and in just a little while he had all of the vessels in camp full, including the wash basin. When we reached the Cimarron we saw our first Indians. One of them asked me for tobacco, and when I handed him my plug of Star navy he kept it. I was fighting mad but I let him go. After we crossed into the Indian Territory we encountered a severe thunderstorm in which lightning played around us all night long while we stayed with the herd. The next day on old chief came to camp and was very friendly with us. He invited me to his camp and said he had two pretty girls, but I was afraid they would want some more tobacco and I did not have enough to do me until we reached the next place where I could buy some. When we reached the Washita Eiver it was very high and we had some difficulty in crossing. One day we saw a bunch of Indians coming in a run and Jim Dobie rode around to where I was and said, *'Boatright, I want you to stay with me.'' I told him I did not know whether I could stay with him or not, as he had the best horse, but I would do my best. The Indians wanted to trade horses, but as they could not get a trade they rode away. I must tell a little joke on the boss: He left home with but one pair of pants, and by the time we reached the Territory they were showingconsiderable wear. He mounted a bronco one morning that was some pitcher, but that made no difference for Jim was some stayer. I don't know just how it happened, but his pants got hung on the pommel of the saddle, and when the horse got through pitching there was not much left of Jim's pants. I was the only one in the outfit that had breeches that would fit him, and I gave him a pair to relieve his distress. We reached Dodge City in due time, and notwithstanding some hardships and dangers we encountered on the trip we all had a good time. There was never a better man to work for than J. M. Dobie. I know of only one of the boys now living and that is Dick Dobie, who lives at Mathis, Texas.

Sketch Of Colonel J. J. Myers

One of the best known trail drivers of the early days was Col. J. J. Meyers, who died in December, 1874, from chloroform poisoning by robbers in Omaha, Nebraska. He had just delivered a large herd in Utah, and was returning home. His death occurred from the effects of the poison after he reached home. Col. Meyers had four sons, all of whom were trail drivers, taking herds to northern markets. These sons were George Meyers of Batesville, Texas; John G. Meyers of New York City, A. E. Meyers of San Antonio, and E. E. L. Meyers of Austin, Texas. His daughter, Mrs. John I. Pool, now resides at Lockhart, Texas. Col. Meyers was a Mexican War veteran, was first lieutenant under John C. Fremont, and in the war between the states was colonel of DeBray's 26th Texas Cavalry.

of the Cattle Trade of the West and Southwest," published in 1874 by Joseph G. McCoy, gives full account of the prominent part Colonel Meyers played in the development of the cattle industry:

**The demand for cattle to supply the territories was great in 1866, and the turning of attention of territorial operators to Abilene as a place to buy, greatly aided that point in becoming a complete market, one in which any kind, sort or sized cattle could either be bought or sold, and the driving of herds purchased at Abilene to the territories became as common as driving from Texas to Abilene.

c i There were certain Texan drovers who looked almost exclusively to the territorial operators for buyers for their stock. In case they succeeded in meeting a purchaser, the drovers would often deliver their herds at some agreed point, in which territory the buyer might desire. In such cases the same outfit and the same cowboys that came from Texas with the stock, would go on to its territorial destination. Perhaps the most prominent drover engaged in supplying the territorial demand is Col. J. J. Meyers of Lockhart, Texas. In June, 1867, during the first visit of the Illinoisan to the West, and whilst his project of a cattle shipping depot was not yet fully determined upon, and whilst stopping temporarily at the Hale House in Junction City, he, Joseph G. McCoy, author of, ** Sketches of the Cattle Trade of the West and Southwest," was introduced to a small sized, quiet gentleman, who was evidently entering that class upon whose head Time had begun to sprinkle her silver frosts. The gentleman was introduced as being late from Texas, and here thought the Illinoisan, was just the man before whom to lay the plan of the contemplated project and thus secure the Texan's judgment upon it, whether or not it was plausible or advisable, and if such a shipping depot was created, would the Texas drovers bring cattle to it. So inviting the venerable gentleman to take a walk, they strolled to a lumber pile on a vacant lot and there sat down for two hours or more, in which time the Illinoisan explained the contemplated project fully, and noted closely the comment and opinions of the Texas drover, for such he proved to be. He there told that young Illinoisan that a depot for cattle and shipment was the greatest need of Texas stockmen, and that whoever would establish and conduct such an enterprise, upon legitimate business principles, would be a benefactor to the entire Texas livestock interest, and would undoubtedly have all the patronage reasonably desired. From the hour of that formal interview between the Texas drover and the Illinoisan, the project, such as was soon developed at Abilene, became a fixed fact or purpose in the mind of its projector. There are moments in one's existence when decision, or a purpose arrived at, shapes future actions and events - even the whole tenor of one's life and labor.

**Such was the effect of the two brief hours spent in conversation by the Texas drover and the Illinoisan. When they shook hands and parted there existed in the breast of the Illinoisan an impression that he had been talking to a sincere, honest man, who spoke his convictions without deceit or without any desire whatever to mislead anyone, but with a firmly fixed determination to give credit only correct information. The decisions and determinations formed at that interview fixed the life and labor of the Illinoisan. That Texas drover was Col. J. J. Meyers, a man of peculiar build and stature that can endure untold physical hardships without fa- tigue. Tliere are few men in the West or Northwest who have so thorough a knowledge, gathered from actual travel and observation, of all the territories of the Union, as Col. Meyers. One of his early tours over the west was made across the continent with John C. Fremont on his famous exploring expedition. This occurred almost forty years ago when the Colonel was but a youth just entering into vigorous manhood. Such a strong desire to roam became implanted in his bosom that he did not rest until he had traversed almost every foot of territory between the Mississippi Eiver and the Pacific Ocean. And when he had seen all that Dame Nature had to show, he turned his attention to stock raising in Texas, making his home in Lockhart. He too, was a drover in 1866, and endured all kind of outrages before he was able to sell his herd. But in 1867 he decided to drive in Western Kansas, and so flank all settlements, and take his chances to find a purchaser somewhere on the frontier, but just where he did not know. The Colonel was among Abilene's first patrons and warmest friends, and so long as it was a market he annually made his appearance with from four to sixteen thousand head of cattle, which of course were driven in several herds, never more than three thousand in one herd.

**The class of cattle the Colonel usually drove was just suited for the territorial demand, therefore he never shipped but a few carloads. For four years he sold his herds to parties living in Salt Lake, genuine Mormons of the true polygamist faith, and delivered his stock to them in Utah. The Mormons, as all well know, are very clannish people, especially the lay members and are little disposed to trade with or buy anything of a Gentile. Therefore, to avoid this religious prejudice, and in order to get into and through the Utah Territory without any trouble, or having to pay exorbitant damage bills to the Latter Day Saints, it was his practice to instruct his men to tell every resident of Utah they met that the cattle belonged to Elder Kimball, one of the elders or high priests in Mormondom. No matter whose farm the cattle run over, nor how much damage was done to the crops, it was all settled amicably by telling the residents that the cattle belonged to Elder Kimball. No charge or complaint was ever made after that statement was heard, and it did appear that if Heber Kimball's cattle should run over the saints bodily and tread them into the earth it would have been all right, and not a murmur would have been heard to escape their lips. When the cattle reached their destination the Colonel never went near them, but allowed Elder Kimball to dispose of them always as if they were his own, which he could do at a rapid rate. The Mormons appeared to consider it a great privilege to buy of this sainted elder, although they were paying from one to three dollars in gold more per head than they would have to pay to the Gentile drover. Indeed, they would not have bought the same stock of the Gentile at any price. When it is known that this people are such complete dupes of cunning smart men is it any wonder that they submit to be plucked like a goose for the benefit of their quondam keepers? Or is it anything strange that their leaders manage to get immensely rich? But Utah, notwithstanding her great city, and her immense mining operations, has now more than a supply of cattle for her own consumption, and is beginning to export cattle to Chicago and the East. Several thousand head of fat beeves were driven from Utah over the mountains to Cheyenne and there shipped to Chicago during the year 1873. So there is no longer a demand for stock cattle in that territory.

** There are few Texas drovers who handle or drive more cattle from Texas than Col. Meyers ; few are more widely or favorably known than he. He is a man that has few enemies, but wherever he is known his name is spoken with respect, akin to love and admiration. He is a man true to his pledges, and one who would not reap advantage from or oppress a fellowman, simply because he liad the power or legal right to do so. When he is given the title, *a father in Israel' among the drovers there will be found a few, if any, who will dispute his right or worthiness of the appellation."

Came Over From Germany In 1870 The Trail Drivers Of Texas 643

Indianola I secured a position with H. Runge & Company, then one of the largest firms there. I soon learned to speak English and with the assistance of Mr. Rudolph Kleberg (afterwards congressman), who taught me after business hours, I got along pretty well. Later I went to work for Ed Clary, who owned a schooner making regular trips from Carancahua to Indianola.

In the spring of 1873 I went with Ged Cothrey, who was in charge of a herd of beeves belonging to Mr. Bennett, to Kansas, and after I reached there I spent most of the year in that section, close to the Platte River, working cattle for Dilworth & Littlefield, later returning to Texas.

In the spring of 1875 I went to work for W. B. Grimes in a packery, canning beef for northern markets. We killed as many as 125 beeves a day. I worked for Mr. Grimes for quite a while. On the 24th of June, 1875, I was married to Miss Annie Downer, who lived near the mouth of Trespalacios. That fall Mr. Grimes persuaded me to take a couple of hands and sufficient horses and overtake his herd which had gone nearly a month before, and go with Mr. A. Dowdy, who was in charge of the cattle, to Kansas. Overtaking the herd above Austin on the San Gabriel River about ten days after we left home, everything went smoothly, only at Valley Mills we had a lot of rain and were not able to move for several days. Soon afterward we heard of the terrible storm which swept Indianola and the entire coast country, drowning many people. We reached Wichita, Kansas, about the middle of December, and never lost much time in starting back to where the weather was not so cold.

After I reached home I purchased a small tract of land from John Moore on Casher's Creek, and moved on it. We were the only family living on the east side of Casher's Creek, but there were four families living on the v/est side, John Pybus, Jacob Selzieger, Horace Yeamans, Sr. and Alexandria Morris. While naming the old set- tiers on Casher's Creek I will also pretty nearly name all of the settlers who lived on Trespalacios at that time. Beginning at the mouth of the west side were Mr. Downer, John Moore, Joe Pybus, W. B. Grimes, Godfrey Selzieger, August Duif ey, John Rowles, Mrs. McSparren, Joe Mclntyre and Uncle Tom Kuykendall; on the east side were J. F. Garnet, J. B. Smith, T. E. Partain, Mrs. E. P. Pybus, R. A. Partain, W. M. Kuykendall, J. E. Pierce, Jack "Wheeler, Daniel Wheeler and Uncle Tom Williams. In the fork of Trespalacios and Wilson Creek lived Fred Sparks, Alex Gyle, David Dunbar and John Hicks. Jack Elliott lived up on Wilson Creek.

Times have changed a whole lot. Where we used to see herds of deer and large numbers of turkey, and nothing but cattle on the prairie, there are now thousands of acres of rice growing, and new towns and settlements growing up - where we old fellows, N. Keller, Jim Keller, W. E. McSparren and others spent some of the happiest times of our lives camping out.

In establishing a home on Casher^s Creek, we had to deny ourselves many things. I went to Indianola and bought at a sale enough lumber to build a small house. My only means of conveyance was a yoke of oxen and a bedstead made out of a head and footboard found in the *^ slide." Our furniture consisted of a home-made table from old lumber I had bought in Indianola and sides I made myself, a bench and a few boxes to sit on. My stock consisted of three horses, a few cattle and a yoke of oxen with a slide that I had made myself, but my wife and I felt as rich as Jay Gould, and were as happy as could be in our little home. We used the oxen in making my crop, and when we wanted to go anywhere we yoked them to our family carriage, the slide, and were off. Wagons were scarce in those days and buggies were not to be seen there. The only hack in the neighborhood belonged to Mr. Grimes.

Mrs. Downer and I bought the W. C. Clapp quarter league in 1882 from Shanghai and John Pierce. Later Mrs. Downer and I bought a three-fourths interest in the L. P. Scott Survey, joining the W. C. Clapp Survey on the north. I later bought Mrs. Downer's interest and the interests of the heirs of the Scott Survey, giving me about 2,100 acres.

My wife died in April, 1894, leaving me with seven children to care for. I met with many reverses during the next few years. Hailstorms and floods destroyed my crops and killed my stock and I had a pretty hard struggle, but I kept digging along and overcame most of the difficulties.

A Faithful Negro Servant

In the spring of 1870 my uncle, R. B. (Bob) Johnson, drove a herd of cattle up the trail to Abilene, Kansas. He took with him as one of the cow-hands a young negro whom he raised on his ranch, and whose picture accompanies this sketch. The herd was started from Colorado county, crossing the Colorado River at La Grange and intersecting the Chisholm Trail near the Red River, and passing across the Indian Territory. Soon after reaching Abilene my uncle became ill and died. His body was year, and the following September the body was disinterred and placed in a Studebaker wagon and the negro cow-hand, George Glenn, as driver, started on the long trip back to Texas. It was impossible at that early date to get a dead body shipped back by rail, as there were no railroads, at least none leading from Abilene, Kansas, to Texas. This faithful negro brought his old master's body back, being forty-two days and nights on the road, sleeping every night in the wagon alongside the casket. He carried the body to the cemetery at Columbus where it was laid to rest by the side of the wife who had died some years before. Of such stuff were the old trail drivers, white and black, made of.

Grazed On Many Ranges

I was born in Tennessee in October, 1853. My parents, died when I was a small boy, and I lived in Caldwell county until I was large enough to ride a horse into the brush after those wild cattle which were not looked after during the Civil War.

In 1850 I made my first trip up the trail for Peck & Evans. We left Gonzales about the first of March and got along fine until we reached Fort Worth. There we had four inches of snow and very cold weather. Went to Gainesville, crossed Eed River and went out by Fort Arbuckle, on to Wichita and Abilene, Kansas. We saw a great many buffalo and lots of Indians, but had no trouble with them. We delivered our herd and went home.

In the fall of 1870 I joined the Texas Rangers at Gonzales, and was mustered in at San Antonio. Went to Montague county and fought Indians that winter and also the following spring and summer. Had some close calls but came out without a scratch.

In 1872 I went with a herd of cattle from Lockhart, Texas, to Salt Lake City, Utah, with Mack Stewart as boss. We had a very good trip and only a few stampedes. Eeached Salt Lake about the first of October. When we left this place we took a stage for Ogden and boarded cars for Kansas City, and from there came to Austin.

In 1873 I went with a herd for Jack Meyers from Lockhart to Ellsworth, Kansas. Coleman James was boss. We had a fine trip. Went back to Texas with the horses, and there worked on the range for a number of years.

Hood & Hughes, from Uvalde to Caldwell, Kansas. They sold out there and I took 640 of those old mossheads down to the Kaw Nation for Smith & Leedy. We held them there until the 10th of October and then started for the feeding pens. Swam them across the Arkansas Eiver a few miles below Arkansas City, and went along the flint hills to the head of Elk River, near Eureka, Kansas. When we reached a point within about a mile of the pens ten French ranchers came out of a gulch and were going to give Hank Leedy a grass necktie. Hank was scared almost to death, and his face went as white as my hair is today when they caught his horse by the bridle and began to curse and abuse him. I said: *^ Don't get scared, Hank, I am Johnny on the spot," and I lit off old Gray Eagle alongside of a rock that stood about four feet high and prepared for action. Bringing my Winchester into position I started in to make those fellows a speech, but they did not wait to hear it, and went back into the gulch faster than they had come out of it. Hank said: ^^Jack, you must have lots of gall to talk that way to those fellows." I told him it was not what I said that turned the trick, it must have beeii my looks or my Winchester that caused them to scamper away. While I was at Uvalde, Texas, a Mexican gave me his hat and what money he had because I was better at monte than he was. I was still wearing the hat and I had not been in a barber shop for several months, so I did not look like a band-box boy, and my looks may have had a great deal to do with their sudden departure. We were three days too early with our cattle, and that was the reason those ranchmen got so *^ riled" up. We put the steers in a pen about fifteen acres in size. It was located in a canyon which had been walled up at both ends, except a space of about twelve feet for the entrance. This space was closed by pole bars. We went to Hank Leedy's house and he introduced me to his good wife and told her to prepare a good supper for us. And when it was ready I promptly got on the outside of six or seven hot biscuits and boiled eggs. It was the best meal I had had for six months. Hank's house was on a bluff overlooking the pens where we had put the cattle, and that night a great hail and rain storm came up. When the lightning flashed I could see those old steers run from one end of the corral to the other, but they could not get out. That was the only stampede I ever enjoyed. Hank insisted on us staying with him a few days to rest up, telling us our pay would continue as long as we remained there, and we stayed there several days. I don't think Hank cared so much for our ^^rest" as he did about something else. One day one of the boys and myself were out in the hills a few days later and met four men driving a bunch of cattle. We rode up to them and talked awhile and learned that they were among the crowd that had stopped our cattle and threatened to lynch Hank. I told them there was no danger of Texas fever affecting their cattle as there had been so much weather and frost, and they seemed satisfied, and we parted friendly and wished each other good luck and good-bye. I remained with old Hank a few days longer, then told him I thought he was safe and I would go to Eureka, and sell my horses and go back to Texas. He wanted me to give him my Winchester and pistol, but I could not part with both of them so I gave him the Winchester only, and bade him and his excellent wife good-bye. I went to town, sold out and then hired a farmer to haul me to Humbolt, a distance of sixty miles, where I hit the cars for Texas. Went by way of Sherman, Dallas, Houston and San Antonio. Remained in San Antonio a few days and then went to Bell county and wintered.

In 1878 I went from Eound Rock to Allen's ranch on the Colorado River below Columbus, for Dudley and John Snyder, and got 2,700 one, two and three year old steers, and drove them by way of Gonzales to Lockhart, through Austin, Round Rock, Fort Worth, Red River Station, on to Dodge City, Ogallala and Julesburg, where they were branded and turned loose on the range. All of the hands were tenderfeet except two. The cattle would get to drifting in the fog and stampede and run all night long. For three weeks I did not unroll my bedding, and did not get more than an hour's sleep each night. Finally they got settled down and we made it through with but little loss.

I worked on the L L range at Julesburg until November, shipping out beeves, then went back to Ogallala, and from there to the Spotted Agency in South Dakota. Stopped at Bill Shope's ranch a few days and he wanted me to go back to Ogallala with him and help ship out beeves from his North Platte ranch. When I finished this job I went to Denver and wintered there.

In 1879 I went to work on the range at Hugo, Colorado, for Frank Cochrane. Worked for him four years. While on this job I went to the Blue Mountains near

Durango and gathered a herd of mixed cattle, drove them to Rocky Ford, shipped the beeves to Kansas City, drove the stock cattle to Brush Station on the South Platte, cut out the dry stock and put 4,000 cows with their calves and 2,500 yearlings in one herd and drove them down the -river twenty-four miles to Bush's Ranch and delivered them, then returned to the station and drove dry stock to Cheyenne and sold then to Richie Brothers. I delivered them on Powder River near the Montana line and came back and spent the winter in Denver.

In 1883 I went to the Black Hills in South Dakota and worked on the range there and in Northern Wyoming and Montana for a few years, and then started a cow ranch of my own. I got married in 1891 to one of the finest little seventeen-year-old girls in that country, and we held down the ranch for a few years, but you know the old saying about the big fish eating up the little fish, so I sold out what I had left and came to Loveland, Colorado, and have been running a shoe shop here ever since. I have a few cattle up on the Thompson River near Loveland, and am at present raising milk goats here. Also I have a ranch in Texas, with my nephew as partner and manager.

I see in the first volume of the Trail Drivers' book a sketch wherein one of the old boys stated that he would like to make the drives again. I would not care to do so, for I would not again take some of the chances I took then for all the money in these United States. I had enough of three to seven months' work, night and day, in hailstorms, stampedes, blizzards, and the like. And then when the cattle were delivered and we would go to town to find lead whizzing around too close to be comfortable, and see poor fellows falling to rise no more. I do not want any more of the old life.

I see some of the old trail drivers are living on Rough Row, and my sympathies go out to them. My little wife and I are living on Easy Street, and would be pleased to

John H. Ross Was A Bronco Buster

John H. Eoss was born in old Bandera county 60 years ago, grew up on the frontier and worked with stock all his life. In the early days he was the champion bronco bustler of Bandera county, and rode everything that came his way. He made several trips up the trail to Kansas and had some thrilling adventures which he delights to tell about, but could not be induced to write a

John H. Ross Has Had An Eventful Career

William B. Krempkau, the subject of this sketch, was born in a house on Salinas Street, three blocks from the San Fernando Cathedral, San Antonio, Texas, March 9, 1863. His parents came from Ransbach, St. Arnin, Alsace, with the Castro Colonists in 1844, and located in San Antonio. At that time the principal trading done by the early settlers was with Indians and Mexicans, very few white people living in San Antonio. Money was very scarce and trading was done by exchanging goods for buffalo robes, furs, gold and silver ore which the Indians and Mexicans brought in. Wood and prairie hay was transported on burros. Water was hauled on skids, or rolled in barrels from the river, creeks and ditches; there were only a few wells in the town. In relating his experiences Mr. Krempkau said:

<<My grandfather joined Napoleon's army in 1808 and served until 1815, and was promoted to be a captain. He was wounded three times, and decorated several times for bravery. One of my uncles was killed at the Battle of Manassas the same day General Albert Sidney Johnson fell. At the time of his death my uncle was carrying a sword that was carried by my grandfather in France. The weapon is now in possession of one of my cousins who lives in Medina county.

**I entered school in San Antonio in 1868 in the old building on Military Plaza used by the Spaniards as a government headquarters. I always liked cow work, and while I was attending school I frequently went out on the open range and brought in cows with young calves for the dairymen, usually receiving $1.50 to $2.50 per head. In this way I managed to make a little spending money. The call of the wild became so strong, however, that I left school and divided my time between the cow camp and the freighter's camp. Mr. Monier was a neighbor to onr family and was one of the most extensive freighters out of San Antonio to government posts in Texas and to different points in Mexico. I often lounged around his corral, which was always full of wagons, teams and teamsters, and made myself useful in assisting the freighters in every way possible with the result that I soon became a favorite with those old grizzly teamsters, and they encouraged me to take up their line of work. Mr. Monier took contracts to break wild mules for the government to use as pack mules. He often received fifty or a hundred mules at a time, and had a novel way of breaking them in. His hands would rope each animal in the corral, and securely tie bags of sand on their backs, and then lead or drive them around for quite awhile, repeating the performance every day, until the mules were gentle. At first they would buck and cavort around pretty lively, but a mule is quick to learn, and after two or three days they would be easily handled. In this kind of work I soon became an expert, and learned to throw the lasso as good as any of the men. I could throw the rope and catch a wild mule by the foot or head with perfect ease.

**Mr. Monier needed hands that were quick with rope or gun, and soon employed me to accompany him on his perilous journeys to Mexico. I remained with him several years, often going to Chihuahua, San Luis Potosi, Saltillo and other points, and I experienced all the thrills and excitement incident to those early days, with Indians, high water, Mexicans, dry weather, and crossing deserts. For protection against attack by Indians we always corraled the wagons at night, and in making a corral I could swing the wagons around as quick as any one.

^'In 1882 I went np the trail to Dodge City, Kansas, for Smith & Elliott of Sringfield, Illinois. The herd was bought in Mason, Gillespie and San Saba counties, and delivered to my boss, Charlie Baldo of Uvalde connty. Baldo was one of the best trail bosses I ever knew. He treated us all fine, and was liked by every man in the outfit. We went the western trail and had all sorts of exciting experiences on the trip, thunderstorms, swollen streams, stampedes, Indians, long dry drives, wild animals, loss of sleep, and a frequent hankering for the chuck wagon when kept in the saddle for twenty-four hours or longer. We delivered the cattle at Dodge City, and there I met many of my old friends from Texas. As soon as I could get loose from the herd I took a bath in the river, went to a barber shop and got my face beautified, put on some new clothes, and went forth to see the sights in the toughest town on the map - and I saw 'em.

**I came back home on the train, my first railroad experience, and was surprised to find when I reached San Antonio that my baggage had arrived also. Pat Mc- Cluskey and Jim Hogan of San Antonio were with me on this trip."

The Trail Drivers Of Texas 655

and preserving pictures of early-day freighting, and in posing for pictures depicting early cowboy incidents, is commendable and shows he recognizes the importance of rescuing this kind of history from oblivion. His liberal contributions to this volume are deeply appreciated.

Mr. Krempkau has owned a farm and ranch, sixteen miles west of San Antonio, on the Krempkau Divide, for over twenty-five years. He lives in San Antonio, and is sergeant-at-arms for the Old Time Trail Drivers' Association.

Captain T. P. McCall, who carried the first mail from San Antonio to Franklin, now known as El Paso, was a brother-in-law to Mr. Krempkau. His guards were Bigfoot Wallace and Louis Oge. This route passed through Castroville, the first colony west of San Antonio.

In 1855 the United States government established a post at Camp Verde, just two miles north of Bandera Pass, and for a number of years kept about eighty head of camels there, to try the experiment of carrying messengers and freight across the desert to El Paso and to the border. The experiment proved a failure. Mr. Krempkau remembers seeing many of those camels that had escaped and gone wild.

Mr. Krempkau 's father was one of the early day rangers and Indian scouts, and as such was the bunkmate and messmate of the late Maxene of Leon Springs. The elder Krempkau died in San Antonio November 29, 1871.

No Room In The Tent For Polecats

I was born January 6, 1849, one mile from Foster Cross Boad, Sequado Valley, East Tennessee. I lost my mother when I was seven years old. One year later my father married Mrs. Julia Morris and moved to Hickory Hill, Gallatin county, Illinois. I stayed there until I was eighteen years old, then I went to East Tennessee, staying there three years and then drifted over to Trotters Landing, Mississippi, and from there came to Texas. I landed in San Antonio April 6, 1871. Killed my first wolf on Dignowity Hill, now being in the city limits. I was there only a short time until I hired to W. M. Todd to go north with ^cattle. Wade Hampton of Seguin had charge of the herd. Todd bought horses for himself. Major George of Seguin and Monoy & Wilbert of Nevada also hired men for Todd's three outfits. We camped for several days under a big hackberry tree that now stands on Eoosevelt Avenue in San Antonio. From there we went to Guadalupe Eiver. Major George took one outfit to Seguin. We camped in a little pasture belonging to Mr. Braners just north of Youngf ord. While there Col. Todd bought a fine pair of steers from Edwards & Ervin. He wanted them broke to work so we drove them out on the prairie, roped and tied them doAvn, yoked them and tied their tails together, tied the bed to the wagon, put a rope around their horns, put a half hitch in their mouths and then hitched them to the wagon. Al Meyers and myself got into the wagon to drive, the boys untied their legs and other men rode on each side to keep them straight, and if you don't think we had a ride over those hogwallows, you have another thought coming. We could handle them when we went to receiving cattle.

W. B. Foster The Trail Drivers Of Texas 657

cattle TOD that we had received from J. Plunier at the May pasture, two miles from the Sutherland Springs, the ranch brand being AT. We received 1,300 head in four herds. In coming from the May pasture to the branding pens, we came by Sutherland Springs, crossed the Guadalupe River at Sheffield Ford below Seguin, and passed north of Seguin.

Just as we started on the trail, W. M. Pusey came from Denver, Colorado. Todd let him have Wade Hampton to help him gather a herd. Pusey was Todd's sonin-law. Todd then hired Col. G. W. Nail of Hunter to boss his herd. We crossed the San Geronimo Creek at the Austin Crossing, the San Marcos at the McGee crossing by the Manchaca Springs; here I witnessed the densest fog I ever saw. We crossed the Colorado Eiver west of Austin, left Eound Rock to the left, and crossed the Gabriel River some distance east of town. Little River was up, as it had been raining and everything crossed but one steer. I roped him and got him in the water and he swam across.

Todd had a very fine mare which he had bought from Nick Crenshaw at Seguin. A man by the name of Thompson, who was riding her, went around a bend of the river here and we never heard or saw anything of him or the mare after that.

We crossed just above the suspension bridge at Waco. At Hillsboro the cattle stampeded around a school house. The young lady teacher was quick to close the door, but the kiddies were scared just the same. I rode a big horse that I called *^ Jack Moore'' and he was some horse. We had just left Hillsboro, when the cattle spied a little girl going to school with a red shawl on her head. Each corner of the shawl was blown by the wind and this was more than the cattle could stand. I was behind the herd and saw what was exciting the cattle so I got all there was in *' Jack Moore" and picked her up just in time.

teen year-old boy that belonged to onr outfit. Al Meyers tried his hand on the bad man, nsing his quirt. Wilder never carried arms of any kind; he was more like a girl than a boy and everyone in the outfit loved him. He and m^yself were the only ones out of an outfit of twenty-two men that had not killed a man.

At Fort Worth the river was up. We went up about ten miles west of town and cut brush to build a chute to the river in order to force the cattle into the water, the bank being about eight or ten feet higher than the water. I always led the cattle across all streams and on this occasion I went down that chute in front of a stampeded herd. On the north bank my horse bogged, I jumped off him and as I did so I discovered several Indians sitting on a log nearby. I shouted back to the men on the other side that there were Indians there. It was some time before the other men crossed on a ferry just below the mouth of the Clear Fork of the Trinity Eiver, and when they got there the Indians were gone.

At the Trinity Eiver we wound up a wild drive of 100 miles in four days with stock cattle. Col. Todd was drinking all the time and was very disagreeable, which caused Colonel Nail to leave us. Every one in the outfit was sorry to see him leave as he was a fine man and one of the best cowmen I ever saw.

As we neared the Eed Eiver Canon, we were strung out on the trail, a small herd to our right tried to rush to the mouth of the caiion. When they got close, and were about to pass us Al Meyers commenced to shoot in front of them. They had business the other way, and like they were in a hurry to get there. Eed Eiver Caiion is about twenty-five miles through and only one place where a herd could be bedded. When we camped near the Eed Eiver Station, I quit and went to town ahead of the herd. The river was very high. People tried to get Todd to wait until the water went down. None of the men would lead the herd. The cattle got about the middle of the stream and then went to swimming in a circle. Todd began calling for me. He had long white hair and was wild for short time. He turned to Al Meyers and said : * ^ You know where my son Foster is 1 Tell him I will give him anything in the world if he will save my cattle for me."

I stripped to my underclothes, mounted ^'Jack Moore'' and went to them. I got off the horse and right on to the cattle. They were so jammed together that it was like walking on a raft of logs. When I finally got to the only real big steer -in the bunch I mounted him and he pulled for the other side. When he got near the bank I drifted down the stream to the horse. It must have been about 9 o 'clock in the morning, on the 8th day of June, 1871, so I kept the herd together all day until nearly sundown ; no hat, no saddle - just my underclothes.

At Monument Eock some of the boys put the Colonel's tent over a bed of polecats and when he went to bed they tied the front of the tent. In trying to get out a little later the Colonel tore down the tent.

The next morning the Colonel sent me to Fort Sill after the mail. It was thirty-five miles to Fort Sill and the Indians were on the warpath, but I did not see any. I caught the herd again at the old stage stand. I had a letter for Al Meyers, and in thirty minutes he was on his way to Philadelphia, Pa., to get married. Jimmie Billings also got a letter telling him that he could return to New York City, his old home. He had been a bounty jumper during the war.

The next day Colonel Nelson and I were near the trail when the stage came along. The driver told Nelson that the officers had learned where he was and that they would be after him soon ; he then rode around the herd and was gone. Nelson was the right-hand man to John Morgan, the raider, during the war between the states. He had been boot-legging in Indian Territory.