Early, Texas - Trail Drivers of Texas : Interesting Sketches of Early Cowboys and The (part 14 of 20)

rancli is now and crossed the Canadian Eiver at BiUie Williams' store. That night Colonel Todd and I fell out and I quit. He talked a long time to me before I would agree to stay with the outfit until he got out of the Indian country.

The next morning when I went out to try to get a wild turkey, I rode into a bunch of Indians. ^'Jack Moore'' carried me from them and when I got to the herd, I had been struck with several arrows, so was ''Jack Moore." Jimmie Billings cut the arrows out of both of us with a pocket knife. I lost quite a lot*of blood. While they were at work on me, William Packer rode up and had me put in his wagon and in a few days I was in the saddle again. But ** Jack Moore" and I parted forever. I finished my trip with Harrow & Packer, who had three hundred head of butcher cattle which they were taking to Bloomington, 111.

We passed Caldwell, Kansas, and were in Wichita Falls on the 4th day of July, 1871, just two years after the first peg was driven into the ground to lay out the town. The cattle were shipped from Florence, Kansas.

William Slaughter and I went across the country to Abilene. Wild Bill, or I should say William Hickok, was city marshal. He was very kind to me and I thought a great deal of him.

I shipped cattle from Abilene to St. Louis for Jim Reed, a one-armed man. One day while I was asleep at the Belle Hotel in St. Louis, Zack Mulhall called and asked what I was dreaming. I told him of ''home." He then asked me why I did not go home. I told him to go to the ticket office with me and the first train that went out I would go on it. The train went east just one hour before the one went west. I found things changed from what they were when they left.

Garland G. Odom

Among the foremost men in the cattle industry of Texas was G. G. Odom, of Ballinger, Texas. He was born in Baldwin county, Alabama, December 16, 1852, and was brought to Texas by his parents a year later. The family settled at San Antonio where his father, Thomas L. Odom, engaged in ranching. Garland Odom was a cowboy on his father's ranch until 1872, when he embarked in the cattle business for himself, becoming a trailer and driving his herds to Kansas markets. In 1876 he and his father drove 4,000 head of cattle to Eunnells county and established the 0. D. Ranch, with Fort Chadbourne as headquarters. While engaged in trail driving, Mr. Odom met and enjoyed the friendship of such old timers as Dewees, Maberry, Dawson, Fountain Hemsley, Nunn, Burnett, Deedis, Lowe, Slaughter, Collins, Good Adams, and others whose names are familiar to the cowboys of those days.

In 1879 he organized the Odom-Luckett Land & Livestock Company, of which he was general manager, and proceeded to buy and acquire title to a large body of land. In 1883 his company fenced in about 100,000 acres, the first pasture of any great importance in that section of the state. This met with a great deal of opposition from a certain element, and **wire cutting '^ gave the company no end of trouble, the *' cutters'' clipping about forty miles in one night. In 1886 Mr. Odom drove a large herd to Arizona and established a ranch at White Mountain,

Mr. Odom became connected with leading business interests of Ballinger, Texas, and in all of his ventures he attained remarkable success. He was married at San Antonio, January 28, 1875, to Miss Sallie M. Crigler, and to them were born two daughters.

Reminiscences Of An Old Trail Driver

Any one who would like to make a trip over the old cattle trail, from Texas to Montana with a herd of cattle, should meet President George Saunders, with his organization of old trail drivers, at their annual meet at the Gunter Hotel, San Antonio, Texas, in October of each year, where they proceed to tear down every wire fence in the State, load up their chuck wagon with its raw hide stretched under the hind axle, get their cow ponies together, round up vast herds of longhorned cattle, throw them on the trail for a three to seven months' drive to northern markets, and after they have sold out and got their big roll of the long green, they stage a two-nights' ball at the Gunter. It would do your heart good to see the old timer swing the modern girl a-goin' and a-comin'. *'In his mind" he owns more cattle than Job of Uz ever saw. His grand-daughter has to step some to keep tinie with him in an old-fashioned square dance. He has gone back on the range, turned his wolf loose, and forgotten the years that have flown. The most of his life has been spent out

John C. Jacobs The Trail Drivers Of Texas 663

The rattle of horns and hoof (in the lobby) is to him as the fountain of youth. He has mounted his cuttin' horse and *4it a shuck." Herds of cattle going over the trail run in numbers from one to five thousand. After a herd is thrown on the trail, cattle of different temperament take their different places in the herd while traveling - they, like men, have their individuality. A few take the lead and keep the lead during the entire drive, others follow and keep their places. Then comes the middle and principal part of the herd, and last what is called the drags, and they are drags from the day they leave the ranch to the end of the drive. When watering and grazing they mix and mingle but when thrown back on the trail each division finds its respective place.

To handle a herd of all steer cattle on the trail requires the very best cowboy skill, and a herd boss who can speak the bovine language. If they ever stampede one time, there is danger of trouble the entire drive. A cowboy might carelessly get off his horse while the cattle were resting on the bedding ground, and if the horse should shake himself the rattle of the saddle would likely start a stampede, and only a cow puncher knows what that means. When the cattle are restless on the bedding ground the boys on night herd hum a low, soft lullaby (like a mother to her child). It has a quieting effect and often saves trouble.

A frontier cow range develops many peculiar characters, and many incidents that are stranger than fiction. I haven't the space to touch on more than one of them.

Judge Roy Bean was justice of the peace in a suburb of San Antonio, which is now in the city limits, but still known as **Beanville." Civilization was closing in on the Judge, so he bundled up and went West, and located on the Mexican border, west of the Pecos river. Lily Langtry, while filling an engagement here, met the old

Judge, and was very mucli taken with his personality. The Judge named the station he founded west of the Pecos, ^^Langtry,'' and in after years Miss Langtry, while crossing to the Pacific coast, would stop over and spend a day with her friend and admirer. None of the counties were organized in that part of the country, so the Judge got an appointment as Justice of the Peace at Langtry. He was running a saloon there, and he built a house near by and painted on it in large letters: *^ Judge Roy Bean's City Hall and Seat of Justice. He is the Law West of the Pecos.''

It is said of the old Judge that a man was found dead on his range, and he had $50 and a pistol on his person. The Judge held an inquest over the body and fined the corpse $50 for carrying a pistol !

It is said that a friend of the Judge's killed a Mexican and when the constable brought the man in for a preliminary trial, the Judge said he could find no law in his books against kilHng a Mexican, and instructed the officer to release the prisoner. The Judge never adjourned his court and was always ready for action.

Stations were far between on the Southern Pacific railroad and Langtry was a water station. Passengers had time while the engine was taking water to rush over to the Judge '-s saloon and take something stronger. On one occasion a passenger took a bottle of beer - price one dollar - and handed the Judge a twenty. The customer thought the Judge a little slow in making the change, and indulged in a few cuss words and fears of getting left. The Judge fined him nineteen dollars for contempt of court, and informed the gentleman that if he had anything further to say derogatory to the dignity of the court he would lock him up for thirty days. The old Judge was a fine man and a most interesting character. At his death he willed Miss Langtry his brace of pistols.

The Trail Drivers Of Texas 665

character that the outside world knows nothing of. They were to a man defenders of women and children. Drop a woman down in an isolated cow camp and she was a queen and her will and wishes are absolute. They are to a man Chesterfields in the rough, and in my fifty years of life on the cow range I have never known a cowboy to insult nor heard of one attempting the unpardonable crime against the sex.

From the Rio Grande, which is the border between Texas and Mexico, to Red River, which is the north line of Texas, going over the cattle trail, is a distance of about 600 miles, so it took cattle leaving the southern part of the state from six weeks to two months to cross the northern border of Texas. Some of these herds were headed for Montana and often snow would be flying by the time they reached their destination.

All of the old trail drivers will remember Fort Griffin in Shackelford county, which was the last organized county on the trail, and all herds had to be inspected at the crossing of the Clear Fork of the Brazos, near the mouth of Tecumpsee. The writer at one time had the honor of being inspector there, and the memory of many pleasant events come back over the fleeting years as I sit here and write.

It seems now as though it was all in some other world and under fairer skies. The cowboy as he was then is gone from the earth. The railroads and wire fences have got his job. His old sore-backed cow pony is aged and wobbly. The automobile has got his job and his old three-quarter rigged saddle, with its busted raw-hide cover, hangs out in the old rickety shed - a relic of former days - and soon the last of his tribe will sack his saddle, roll and light his last shuck as he bares his breast to the winding trail out over the Great Divide, where, we trust, vast herds of long-horned cattle roam over fertile plains and slake their thirst from crystal streams.

On tlie first day of March, 1878, I left my humble home on the Chicon Creek in Medina county, Texas, in company with Eeas and Boon Moore, for the Leas Harris ranch on the La Gonias in Atascosa county. Lewis & Bluntzer had leased the ranch for the preceding year, and were then rounding up stock cattle to be driven to Kansas. Before leaving with the herd I witnessed a deal between Lewis & Bluntzer and Billie Childers, a sonin-law of Harris' for the ranch, receiving five hundred cows and calves for the ranch. We turned the herd out of the pasture on the 16th day of March and the drive for Kansas began. I was seventeen years old but was not a novice in the business by any means as I had been gathering, roping and branding mavericks all of my life. I remember on one occasion W. F. Thompson, my brother, and I caught a fine maverick one day and we had no knife to mark him with. Our mark was crop oif one ear and underbit the other. Brother said if I would bite out the underbit he would bite off the crop. It took some ** chewing'' but we did a fairly good job of it.

But back to the trail: Mr. Bluntzer was along in person. He was a fat, jolly good fellow and we all loved him. We told him that he had the advantage of us when it rained, as he could lay on his back and spread a blanket on his belly and have a good roof over him. If you have never driven a herd consisting of two thousand cows in the spring you just can't imagine the time we had. We would leave from five to ten calves on the bedground every morning, and the cows would have to be roped and hobbled to keep them from going back the next night to their calves, and this thing lasted until we reached the Indian Territory.

a railroad train in motion. We were approaching Dodge City when I looked across Arkansas Biver and saw a real locomotive pulling a train of cars. I can shut my eyes now and see that picture far across the plains. There might have been railroads somewhere in Texas at that time but they had not rambled around my way.

I can remember some of the cowboys on that trip but some have faded away from my memory. One of the jolly good ones, the wit of the gang, was Clinch Bright. I thought more of him than I did of anyone in the bunch and he was the only one I had a fight with, but we were both to blame, made it up in a few days,and were better friends than ever. Others were Arch, Larimore, Rufe and Frank James of Fort Worth, and old Lem Pegrum, who never spent a cent from the time he would leave here until he reached Fort Dodge, and then spent every dollar he had the first night.

I was contented to work on the ranch until 1883 when I Avent to Old Mexico after a herd of cattle for Lot Johnson. The boys composing this outfit were J. A. Kercheville, Everett Johnson, Ben Eidgus, Lem Kercheville, Wiley Mangrum, Bill Walker and Charlie Mulligan. We left the Salado River in Old Mexico with these cattle and made a sixty-mile drive to the Rio Grande, crossing just above Laredo without a drop of water. About forty miles north of Laredo about 12 o'clock in the night a regular blizzard swept down upon us which had just been preceded by a very hard, drenching rain. That cold wind whistled all night and the next day but calmed down about 6 o'clock the next evening, and the next morning we counted 180 head of cattle dead on the bedground. At this stage of the game I left this outfit and came back to the settlement, but on or about the first day of April of the same year, 1883, I went up the trail with a herd of cattle for Lytle & McDaniel, with Walter Trimble as foreman. When this herd was delivered at Fort Dodge, Kansas, I got in with another herd for Lytle with Gus

Black as foreman. This herd of steers was delivered by (Ins Black to Conners & Weir in Sonth Dakota. B. L. Crouch delivered a herd brought by Dick Head to the same parties at the same time. I got a job with Conners & Weir and took these cattle on the Montana, put their ranch brand on them and turned them loose on Powder River, Montana.

I intended to stay in Montana that winter but after finding out you could not get outside the house for seven months without snowshoes ten feet long, it was TEXAS for me.

James Madison Chittim

James Madison Chittim was born on a farm in Gentry county, Missouri, May 1, 1858, and died in San Antonio, Texas, April 1, 1911. Mr. Chittim located at Victoria, Texas, in 1888, and within a few years he became one of the largest handlers of cattle in the Southwest. In 1889 he removed to San Antonio and made that city his home until his death. For many years the cattle owned by him were numbered by the tens of thousands, and he controlled hundreds of thousands of acres of land, either through actual ownership or under lease. At the time of his death he owned the largest ranch west of San Antonio.

A Big Mixup

steers, owned by Hudson & Watson. Our trail boss was John Christian, also of Burnet. We went north and crossed the Red River at Doan's Store. There we laid over two weeks for two more trail herds to overtake us which belonged to the same men, Hudson & Watson. When the two herds arrived we threw all three herds together, which made about 9,000 head of cattle. There were to be 4,000 head of picked cattle to be cut out of this herd. We started cutting out this number in the afternoon. By evening we had 500 head cut out, and my boss and his men took these cattle to hold that night. The other two bosses and their men took the remaining 8,500 cattle to stand guard around. At sundown when we bedded the cattle down for the night there were eleven trail herds in sight. Along in the night a terrible storm came up. It was the worst that I ever experienced. The thunder, lightning and rain was awful. All the cattle were turned loose except small cuts we were holding. The following morning cattle were dotting the plains in every direction as far as the eye could see. All the trail herds were mixed up. After we had finished our breakfast we started to make the big roundup. There were about 120 cowboys. When we had the roundup made we had about 33,000 head in one bunch. We worked about ten days before we got the cattle shaped up to start on our way. One of the herds went to Caldwell, Kansas, and one to Cheyenne, Wyoming. The herd I was with went north of Cheyenne.

From Doan's Store we went on through the Indian Nation to Dodge City, Kansas, and then on to Ogallala, Nebraska, where we crossed to the South Platte Eiver. We passed through Fort Fetimon and Fort Laramie and went northwest into Wyoming. We were on the trail four and one-half months, and had to stand guard every night.

George T. Reynolds was born in Montgomery, Alabama, February 14, 1844, and came to Texas with his parents, Mr. and Mrs. B. W. Reynolds, in 1847, locating in Shelby county. After residing there thirteen years the family moved to Palo Pinto county where he sojourned only a few months, finally locating on Clear Fork of the Brazos in Stephens county, where he engaged in the cattle business. A large herd of cattle was purchased from J. E. Baylor, Mr. Eeynolds paying in part with a negro girl, valued at $1,000, and giving the difference in gold. Young Eeynolds was then about sixteen years old, and materially assisted his father in looking after the cattle.

George T. Eeynolds secured his first start in business by conveying mails for the government from Palo Pinto to Weatherf ord. Thirty or forty miles was covered on each trip, and he usually rode his pony at night to avoid meeting hostile Indians. When eighteen years of age he enlisted in the Confederate army and served until 1863, when he was severely wounded and received an honorable discharge to return home. In 1865 he made his first venture as a cattle speculator, purchasing 100 steers which he drove to Mexico and sold at a good profit. In 1866 he rented the Stone Eanch in Throckmorton county and started in the cattle business on a larger scale. In an Indian fight near the south of Double Mountain Fork in 1867 Mr. Eeynolds received a serious arrow wound. The shaft was removed but the arrow remained imbedded in the muscles of his back for sixteen years.

Mr. Eeynolds was extensively interested in cattle and land in Throckmorton and Shackelford counties, and owned a large ranch in North Dakota, near the mouth of the Yellowstone Eiver. He assisted in the upbuilding of Albany, Texas, organized the First National Bank of

Colonel Albert G. Boyce

The subject of this sketch was born in Travis county, Texas, May 8, 1842, and his life was one of thrilling events in which courage, perseverance and fair dealingwere manifested to a marked degree. His parents moved to Texas from Missouri in 1839, and located in Travis county. In 1853 the family moved to Round Rock, Williamson county, and thence to Burnet county, where the elder Boyce and his four sons established a ranch and farm, and were among the first to turn the sod and plant the Golden corn. Indian raids were frequent in those days and the Boyces could be depended upon at all times when courage and endurance were in demand. At the age of nineteen Albert G. Boyce enlisted in the Confederate army and spent four years of hard soldier life. He first saw service under Captain Nick Darnell, serving in the Mississippi department. He took part in several engagements, was captured at the fall of Arkansas Post, and was imprisoned several months at Fort Douglas, Chicago. He was afterwards exchanged, and was in General Bragg *s Division, where he was wounded at Chickamauga in 1863. When able to travel, he was given a parole and walked the long distance back to his home in Texas. He afterwards was in General Ford's command on the Rio Grande, under D. M. Wilson, and was in the last battle of the Civil War, which was fought between Banks' soldiers and the Confederates on the old battlefield of Palo Alto, April 13, 1865, four days after the surrender of General Robert E. Lee.

After the war Colonel Boyce embarked in the cattle business. He was one of the few men who drove a herd of Texas cattle to the California coast in 1867. The trip required two years, and the entire route was fraught with great danger from hostile Indians and bands of outlaws. In 1887 he took up his residence on the Staked Plains of Texas, as manager of the XIT Eanch, the largest in the world, composed of 3,000,000 acres. He was in active management of this ranch for eighteen years.

On December 20, 1870, he was happily married to Miss Annie E. Harris of Round Rock, Texas. Six children were born to this union. Mr. Boyce died at Fort Worth, January 13, 1912.

Born In A Log Cabin

I was born in Marshall county, Mississippi, near Holly Springs, in a double log house (it was not a disgrace to be born in a log cabin in those days) in 1853. I lived in Mississippi until 1867. My father came home out of the war, sold what few things the Yankees had left us and moved to Texas.

My first recollections were of war times, as there were two or three battles fought right around where I lived. When we came out to Texas to Ellis county where Farris now stands, I heard so much of the West that I lit out for the West. I went to Fort Griffin where I went to work for Jim Browning, who afterwards became Lieutenant-Governor of the state, but at that time neither he nor I knew that Texas had a capital.

I had my share of hardships running from Indians and being about as scared as a fellow could be, and I had my times running out of saloons and gambling houses when some fool would start to shooting.

I left the Northwest and came to the Leona, in Zavalla county and went to work for Mont Woodward. I went up the trail eighteen different times. My first trip was in 1878 or 1879, 1 forget which. In 1875 I brought cattle to this county, Val Verde (Kinney then), for Mont Woodward.

I married here in 1877, and raised three children, one boy and two girls. My wife and boy are both dead, and I am just waiting for the Master to call me. The only real enjoyment I have is our reunions of the Old Trail Drivers.

Sixty Years In Texas, Around Good Old San Antonio

My father, J. J. Kilgore, came from Mississippi to Texas in 1850, bringing with him slaves and coming through in ox-wagons. He bought land and settled on the Cibolo in Wilson county, five miles above the old Carvajal Crossing. Jose Luis Carvajal was living there then, having settled there in 1830. Afterward other settlers moved in, among them being Isaac Butler, Joe Gouger, Geo. Hutchins, Bill Canfield, Sam Edmontson, and a few other people.

My father went into the stock business and was very successful. His brand, the old JK, was known far and near. When the Civil War broke out he joined Captain Duncan's company in San Antonio and served throughout the war, part of the time as flag-bearer. When he returned home there were not many cattle left.

Jesse M. Kilgoee

cattle rustlers from Gonzales county, in the West Hardin community. In our crowd were Jim Sutton, Fred House, Tom Patton, Belger Baylor, J. J. Kilgore, Emil Neil and myself. We overtook the rustlers at Leon Springs, now Camp Stanley, with 350 head of cattle belonging to cattlemen throughout our section of the country, and we captured the whole outfit about sundown. After guarding them all night we took them to San Antonio and turned them over to the sheriff. The following day we drove the cattle back below Floresville and turned them loose. The leader of the gang was convicted and sent to the penitentiary for six years, but was pardoned shortly afterwards.

In 1871 my father went up the trail with a herd, his straight mark and brand. He came back with his outfit, horses and wagon. With him came Dick Crew, whose native state was Ohio. Dick lived with us quite awhile and we thought it strange that a man from the north could ride and rope so well. I would like to know what became of him. We all thought a great deal of Dick Crew.

In 1875 we left the Cibolo, in Wilson county, with 2,100 head of mixed cattle going West. We followed the Cibolo as far as Selma in order to have water. From Selma we crossed the Salado at the old Austin Crossing, then to the head of the San Antonio Eiver where Brackenridge Park is now located, where we watered. Then went on to Leon Springs. The next water at San Geronimo, then Pipe Creek, and from there to Bandera, following the Medina River up to the present site of Medina

City. Here we held the cattle and rested for a month. The cattle were sore-footed from traveling over the rocks, and the horses were skinned and poor ; in fact some of them died afoot, and during the time we rested we sent back to the ranch for fresh horses. After breaking camp we followed the West Prong of the Medina Eiver to its head, where we made another stop to rest. We were then on the divide. Leaving there we went out by the Frio Water Hole, and on to the Frio Eiver where we again stopped, men and horses all in. Charles L. Kilgore, Joe Crossley and myself intended to start a ranch, but did not fancy the rocks.

The Indians came frequently with the moon, but so far had given us no trouble. No doubt they had sized up our horses, concluded they could not use them and passed them up as too poor.

The following winter we gathered up and went to Frio county, about one hundred miles south of where we were. After two days' travel down the Hondo, fifteen redskins came by our old camp in behind us. A man named Phillips ate dinner with us and started back to Bandera and was killed and scalped by those Indians. No doubt they saw our herd and passed us somewhere near Frio City. We had eight men in our crowd, John J. Strait, John Muhr, Price Preston, Charles L. Kilgore and myself, and others whose names I cannot recall. It is believed that the Indians thought our party too large to attack. Brother Charles and myself are the only members of that party that I know of who are still living. Eeaching Frio county we bought land and fenced it with timber, like all the pastures were fenced in those days. Wire fences were then unknown.

About the last raid made by the Indians near Frio City was in 1877, when a band of redskins passed through the Oge and Woodward pasture five miles from Frio City. Louis Oge, Cav. Woodward, Bill Henson and two Mexicans took their trail, sending one Mexican to town to notify the citizens, and requesting help to meet them at the Votaw pens on Elm Creek. Some thought it was done to break up a dance that was coming off, so we did not go. During the afternoon another Mexican brought word that Oge and the others were fighting the Indians, so we rushed out there but arrived too late as they had fled, leaving forty-six head of stolen horses. There were ten Indians in the band. Some of the horses belonged as far up as Bandera. After the fight was over we had our dance.

In 1893 Chas. Kilgore and myself bought and drove 330 ewes to the Pecos River, and located a ranch fifty miles west of Fort Lancaster. Jack Sheppard was a third partner. We were three months on this trip. We had a hard time crossing the Pecos River. It sure tries a man's patience to make such an undertaking as we attempted. You can't belong to the church and swim sheep across a stream. Only by the help of Halif 's cowboys were we able to get those sheep across, otherwise we would have stay on this side. They were like the old timer - can't make him ^^take water over the bar." Finally we sold out and quit the Pecos, going as far as Fort Worth, later selling out there and came back home. Fort Worth was quite a small place then. In Volume I of this book our president, George W. Saunders, in his write-up of the settling of this country, and the hardships the people endured during those times, did not exaggerate in the least. His memory is wonderful, and the only thing he forgot to mention was about our living on '^jerked" beef, and how old he was when he first saw any flour. I know I was a good sized boy before we had any flour. My father owned the first cooking stove and buggy on the Cibolo. Our few neighbors came over to see our stove and, of course, pronounced it a fake, but it was not long until the old skillet was cast aside and stoves were plentiful.

I first saw the light in Texas in 1854. I have two brothers living, Chas. L. and J. K. Kilgore. Have three sisters dead. Ella, the oldest, married L. H. Browne. They had two sons, J. L. and JST. H. Browne, both of whom are now living in San Antonio. My next sister, Mattie, married J. J. Strait. Both are dead, but are survived by six children : J. B., J. S. and Y. C. Strait, Mrs. Viola Ward, Mrs. Dell Ward, and Mrs. Alma Parr. W. Y. Kilgore, now dead, married Miss Mary Little and has one child living, Mrs. Artie Barnhardt.

In 1879 I married Miss Flora A. Matthews of Palestine, Texas. In 1887 she died at the age of 26 years, leaving two children, both girls, Elna and Callie. Elna married George W. McDaniel, they have three children living; Flora V., Eobert G. and Maggie. Callie married first Geo. T. Crusins; they had two children, Geraldine K. and Alton B. Crusins. In 1918 she married Thomas N. Scroggins, a World War veteran and a member of the 36th Division.

I have five grandchildren and one great-grandchild living. We are passing away fast. In a few years we will meet here no more. If it had not been for the president of our association, George W. Saunders, there would have been nothing left for the younger generation to know who opened good old Texas for them to live in.

Hardships Of A Winter Drive

In January, 1894, Mr. Pruitt, whose ranch is situated twenty-five miles north of Alpine in the Davis Mountains, put up a herd of cattle to be driven up into the

Alf. Beadle

Panhandle country. He hired Tip Franklin, Jesse Parker, Will Heard, myself, George Owens, Jim McMahon, Jess Pruitt and Will Pruitt; also a negro cook and negro horse-wrangler. Jess Pruitt was boss.

On the second day of February we started out with the herd in good shape. The first night out the cattle stampeded several times and kept all hands up most of the night as well as the second night. One day about twelve o'clock a low cloud was seen in the north. Some of the boys said it was only the sand blowing on the plains, while others said it was a blizzard coming. We were then going over the long prairie near the Leon Holes and about 4 o'clock it struck us. It was a sandstorm and turned to sleeting. We were compelled to stand a midnight guard with the horses as well as the cattle. The cattle milled and ran most of the night. Could not bed them at all and we made slow progress owing to the cold. We got to the Horse Head Crossing on the Pecos Eiver in the middle of the afternoon. The river was up and as we had good protection on that side of the river Jess stopped there for the night, but on account of the salt grass he had to double the guards again. Bob the horsewrangler was put on guard again. The next morning we had no horses nor horse wrangler, all were gone. We found where Bob had burned a rat den and after it had burned out he raked the ashes away and lay down and went to sleep. Upon waking up. Bob discovered the horses were gone and he began hunting for them and got lost himself. We found him that day about one o 'clock twelve miles up the river with two of the horses. We were there all the balance of the day getting across the river. Everything went well for several days. The day we went into the TX pasture at the foot of the plains, it began snowing again and we had to water the herd at troughs at some squatters in the TX pasture, and we worked most all day at that. When this was finished our boss ordered us to start on while he would help the cook fill up the water barrel on the wagon. On going upon the plains that night we tried to set a rat den on fire so we could warm, but were so cold we could not strike a match. It was then agreed to go back and tell our boss we could not hold them that night on the plains. Jess quickly agreed with us and we turned the herd loose and struck camp there in the sand hills at the foot of the plains. Every day we would wrap our feet in old gunny sacks and ride the string of fence and keep the cattle turned back as much as possible. One of the hands that worked on the TX Eanch was lost and stayed out all -night and had both his feet frozen. We were several days late and as Mr. Pruitt had gone on the train to Midland and could not hear anything of us, he hired a horse at a livery stable and started out to find us. We were out of grub and started the wagon on to Midland after more provisions when they met Mr. Pruitt. He came on and stayed several days with us. When we started to gathering the cattle again, we found most of them and went on with them. Things went smoothly for some time. Our next blizzard was not so bad, as it only rained and drizzled for some time. This was an unusually bad time for moving cattle.

Mont Woodward Was A Friend

frontier ; and was a Confederate soldier. After tlie war he married Miss Helen Thomas of Austin, moved out on the Leona and lived there for years in ranch business. He drove lots of cattle on the trail, and in 1876, he and Slaughter drove 7,000.

Mont Woodwakd Mes. Mont Woodward

This little sketch of Mont's life would not be complete without saying something of his wife. When she married Mont Woodward she had never cooked a meal of victuals in her life ; she was raised in the city, and came right out on the Leona with him and no man had a better wife than Mont Woodward. She stayed on that ranch as long as eighteen months without seeing any other woman. She sat in her door of the ranch several times and saw Indians rounding up the saddle horses.

Mr. Woodward's ranch was a great stopping place for people going to Carrizo and Eagle Pass, and it made no difference what time of day or night you got there.

To show you what our old Texas women were made of, I will say that in 1873, when we were all gone to Kansas the Indians came into the country acting awfully bad. This was the same bunch of redskins that killed old man Massey. Mr. Woodward's father, who lived in Frio Town, went out to the ranch to bring Mrs. Woo(Jward and the children into Frio Town. On the way back they came over a brushy hill out on a prairie and saw ^yq or six Indians coming towards them. Mr. Woodward wheeled the hack around back into the brush and unhitched the horses and told Mrs. Woodward to hide the children. He got his gun and walked out in front and looked around,' and there stood Mrs. Woodward with her gun. He said : ^'Helena, what do you mean out here? Go back to those children.'' And she answered, *'No, I will not. I will stay here with you and fight for those children."

The Indians squabbled around awhile and went off. This only shows what the old frontier women had to go through with. - Mrs. Woodward lives at Pearsall now.

Dream Was Realized

I was born near Austin, in Travis county, Texas, July 25, 1867. My father was a native Texan, and was born in 1829. He fought during the Mexican War, and also^ fought Indians during the Civil War. He was a farmer and stock-raiser, not exactly what you would call a stockman, but he had enough cattle to make a cowboy out of me, and like most young boys of that day and time, the dream of my life was to go *^up the Trail" with a big herd of cattle, and the dream of my life was realized in 1883 when I went with John and Bill Blocker. Louis Deets was foreman. Then in 1884 I went with Mayberry

& Houston. Tom Buntin was foreman as far as Brady City, then he turned back and Andrew Duff, of Santa Anna, went as foreman for the rest of the trip. I will not relate any of my experiences on these trips, but will leave that for the older fellows to do, as I am sure their trips were more exciting than mine.

Indians Were Gone

I was born in this, Atascosa county, July 24, 1856, and I am now the oldest native-born white man in the county. My father moved from Caldwell county in 1854 and settled seven miles above Pleasanton. This county was then a part of Bexar county, and was organized in 1856. I think he was the first treasurer the county ever had. In the campaign he and Captain Peter Tumlinson were candidates for the position and father was elected. He died in 1859. There were only three children in our family; Charles, four years older than myself ; he died in 1911 ; Dan, two years older than I, died in infancy. My mother moved to Bee county in 1860, and we lived in Beeville for a time during the Civil War. Coffee was then a dollar a pound and lots of people parched meal bran and sweet potato peelings for coffee. Flour bread was unknown to me until about 1867, and the first biscuits I ever saw I thought were about the prettiest things in the world. The only biscuit we had was the little fellow that was always cooked in the middle of three pones of corn-bread baked in a skillet with a lid on it.

Indians were very bad in this country during the Civil War, but when I got big enough to fight them they were all gone. I saw lots of them, but the folks always put me under the bed when the Indians came, so I have never fought any Indians. They would make raids down into this country every light moon and take out a great many horses. At that time the country was very thinly settled and every man that was able was fighting the Yankees in Arkansas, Mississippi, Tennessee and Virginia. When the war closed there were lots of cattle here, but no market for them until the drives to Kansas started in about 1870. Old Man Leroy Pope was about the first man to drive a herd from Atascosa. He started from his ranch on the La Partia, where Christine is now located, with 2,200 big steers, none of them under seven years old and I think some of them were twelve or fifteen years old. People in those days called them ''scalawags.'' He got them as far as Positas in Bexar county when they stampeded and he lost the whole herd. It took him about thirty days to get those steers rounded up. I helped in the roundup and we found most of them twenty-five miles away. Among those who drove herds from this section in those days were Bennett, Musgrave, Hines & Murphy, Drake, Gilliland, Jerry Ellis, John Dewees, Charlie Hines, Mitchell & Presnall, John Camp and many others. I helped to gather several herds, but never went up the trail very far. They paid only $30 or $35 per month for hands and I figured that I could do better on the range, so I stayed here. Some of the boys who went along never came back. I never liked to get up and herd cattle at night, so never had any desire to go to Kansas.

I married in 1879, just forty-one years ago this day, December 24, 1921, when I am writing this, and there are fifteen children in our family, nine boys and six girls, all living, and my wife and I are still hale and hearty. Including grandchildren there are about forty-five members of our family, and there has been only one death. None of my boys have ever been sent to the penitentiary or elected to the legislature, and I think that is a pretty good showing. I have had a good time all of my life, have had but few scrapes and what few I did have I always came out second best. I believe I have had pretty smooth sailing generally. When broke I could always strike a friend that would help me up, and most of them were old trail drivers. May the Good Lord look after them as He has looked after me, for they are the best people on earth.

Fifty Cents A Day Was Considered Good Pay

went to school there until they were sixteen years of age, then were sent to St. Mary's College in San Antonio where they received the finishing touches to their education. After they returned home from College they went to work on their father's farm and looking after his cattle. The plowing was done with oxen, which were also used for freighting and hauling of the farm products , to San Antonio. The last hauling these brothers did with ox teams was in 1878 when they hauled rock and sand to build the Medina county court house and jail at

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Castroville. In 1893 the county seat was moved to Hondo. When these brothers had no work on the farm and on the range they would hire out at whatever they could get for their work. Fifty cents a day was considered good pay. During the seventies they helped to round up steers for the trail drivers. Their father had about 500 head of cattle and they always had some of their own to sell. In the late eighties they purchased land on the line of Frio and La Salle counties and located a ranch, which they still own.

When The Elements Wept And Shed Tears

I was born in Neshoba county, Mississippi, November 9, 1857, and landed on SeaPs Creek, near Prairie Lea in Caldwell county, Texas, in the spring of 1867, coming with my parents overland in a wagon drawn by oxen. My first experience with cattle was rounding up a bunch of milk cows with my uncle, Matthew Clark, Bill Butler and Frank Polk. In those days the cows were not heavy milkers, and it required from thirty to fifty cows to give sufficient milk for a good sized family; and they raised families then, although they seem to have gotten away from the habit now. On those roundups my hardest job was to keep up with the crowd. My uncle promised me a nice two-year-old heifer on one condition, that I keep up with the bunch and not make so much noise when I got out of sight.

My first real job was herding sheep for Lee Holms near Prairie Lea. There were about 500 head in the herd, and I stayed on the job five months, or until he sold them in the spring of 1872. I formed a partnership with Tully Eoebuck and we went into the cattle business. I soon got tired of mavericking and sold my interest to Tully in the spring of 1876, and went to work for my uncle, J. K. Blount, in Kendall county. He was buying cattle for Ellison & Dewees. I helped him for awhile, then went to work for A. J. Potter, the ^'fighting parson," who had a contract to gather a lot of cattle for Louis Heath which had been turned loose to winter on the Cibolo. We were about a month on that job and delivered them to Jim Bandy and he drove them up the trail. I next worked with Jake Tally, who was buying cattle for Jim Ellison, and was with him until the spring of 1877, when I agreed to go up the trail with Uncle Nat Ellison. We met at his home the first of March of that year, and went to the Guadalupe Pasture below Seguin to receive our herd. The winter had been dry and cold, the cattle were poor and were dying in such numbers that the three men in charge of the pasture were considerably behind on skinning, so we went to skinning too and it wasn't long before it looked like our herd would all be hanging on the fence. There were about 300 acres fenced with rails and we had that fence pretty well covered with hides. However, about the first of April we began to round up the cattle that looked like they could pull through, getting about 2,600 out of the 4,600 that had been put in there in the winter. We moved out and stopped on the prairie near Lockhart for about ten days, and while we were there the hostler quit and Mr. Ellison asked me if I would look after the horses until he could get another hostler. I accepted the job and after a few days I told him if it was satisfactory with him I would just stay with the horses. They were so poor and sore-backed I thought the hostler had a better chance to ride than the boys with the cattle on the trail, and I had caught up with my walking while herding sheep. When we left Lockhart the outfit consisted of N. P. Ellison, boss; W. E. Ellison, E. F. Hilliard, E. M. Storey, Albert McQueen, Ace Jackson, John Patterson, G. W. Mills, myself, a negro named Luther Merriweather and a negro cook named McStewart. Our first trouble was at Maze Prairie where we had our first stampede. Tlie cattle got scared on the opposite side of the wagon from where we were sleeping and came directly toward us. The awful noise of their tramping feet and the rattling of their horns naturally stampeded the sleeping boys and they all broke for the wagon seeking safety. The excitement was only momentary for in a little while all hands were mounted and after the cattle. We soon had them circling and in a few hours they had quieted down on the bedground. Hilliard was complaining awfully with his head, claiming that I had ran over him in the excitement and stamped him over the eye with my boot heel. The boys got a lantern to see how badly hurt he was. They found a circle over his eye, showing that in his fright he ran against the spindle of the axle of the wagon instead of being run over by me. Hilliard claimed he was not frightened, and the verdict was that the wagon became frightened and ran over him. Everything went well for a few days, and then it began raining, and more trouble was in store for us. The elements seemingly selected the night time to do the weeping and tearshedding act, and just at the time when the tired cowboy was sleeping and dreaming of home and sweetheart, the cattle would become restless and all hands would have to get up and get around them to prevent stampedes.

When we reached the Colorado Eiver it was up and we had to swim it. We went on to Lampasas, Buffalo Gap and Fort Worth, which place was then just a small town. The grass was fine there and we grazed them right up to the depot and down the Trinity Eiver. When w^e reached Red River it looked like a young ocean, so we camped on Panther Creek, which was rightly named for the screaming of panthers at night sounded as though there must have been several hundred of them. It was on this creek that our worst stampede occurred. They started about 1 o'clock at night and tlie next morning at daylight we were short 2,200; we had only 400 head. In a few days we had about all of them under herd again, so we put them into the Eed Eiver and they went right across. We crossed at Red River Station, and when we got into the Indian Territory we found the grass fine and the cattle and horses began to fatten. You could see their hides moving away from the bones, but the elements didn't let up their tear-shedding job, and in those << diggings'' it thundered and iightninged so it was hard to tell whether it was thundering at the lightning or lightning at the thunder. It did both to a chilly finish, and these storms had a tendency to make a fellow feel homesick.

The saddest sight I saw on the trail was at a place where we had stopped to camp. We spied a little mound of fresh earth and a pair of new-made boots sitting by it. It showed the last resting place of some poor cowboy.

A few days after crossing the Washita River our boss received instructions to turn the herd over to Giles Fenner, and to bring his outfit to Dodge City. Four days later we met Little Jim Ellison, son of the owner of the herd, who advised the boss that they would not need his outfit any longer, and wanted him to take the outfit back to Texas. Green Mills, Zeke Hilliard and Albert Mc- Queen each bought a horse from the boss and went on, taking a chance on getting a job after reaching Dodge City. The rest of us turned our noses southward and landed back at Lockhart about the middle of August.

Sketch Of Capt. James D. Reed

Capt. J. D. Reed, better known in the old days as **One Armed Reed,'' was born in Alabama in 1830. His parents moved to Mississippi when he was a small child, and remained there until he was about fifteen years old, then came to Texas with George W. Saunders' father, and settled in Goliad county. When the Civil War started he enlisted in Capt. Scott's Company, Curtis' Eegiment, and was commissioned first lieutenant. At Arkansas Post in 1863 he was wounded and taken prisoner. The wound caused him to lose his arm. After he was exchanged he returned to Goliad county and organized an independent company and served his country until the close of the war.

In 1867 he married Miss Georgia Best, and for several years worked for wages, buying cattle for other parties, finally deciding if he could buy successfully for others he could buy successfully for himself. He was one of the first to commence driving after the war, and drove to Powder Horn, and Louisiana, and later to the Kansas markets.

In 1877 Captain Reed moved his family to Fort Worth, and bought a ranch in Stonewall county, placing Jack Best in charge of it. In 1883 he sold this ranch and his cattle and went to New Mexico and stocked it with cattle. He placed Jack Best in charge of this ranch also. In most of his ventures he was successful and was often called the Cattle King of the West. He died in New Mexico in 1891. His wife died in Los Angeles, California, in 1919.

A Tribute To The Character Of William Buckner Houston

By Thomas H. Lewis William Buckner Houston was born in DeWitt county, Texas, May 6, 1852, son of James A. and Julia Harris Houston. He departed this life at his residence in Gonzales, on the 22nd day of December, 1916.

James A. Houston was born in Mecklenburg, North Carolina, and in the early settling of Mississippi his father, Robert B. Houston, immigrated to that state with James and four other children. There he became an extensive planter and slave owner. James A. Houston was educated in Oxford University, Mississippi, and just after completing his course became impressed with the idea and determination to seek his fortune in the southwest, at that time considered the land of promise, of adventure and romance, and so he came to Texas. In his new home he turned his attention to farming and stockraising, and in 1848 married Miss Julia A. Harris, daughter of Hon. Buckner and Nina Steel Harris. Judge Harris was prominent in the early days of Mississippi in law and statecraft, and was closely related to that eminent lawyer and judge, Hon. Wiley P. Harris, Chief Justice of the Supreme Court of that state. James A. Houston bought a home in Gonzales county in 1863, but died before he came into possession. Of Southern blood, of Southern thought, sentiment and feeling, he had enlisted in the armies of the Confederacy, but was prevented by ill health from participating in active service. Shortly thereafter he died, leaving a wife and six children. William Buckner Houston was the third child and is the subject of this sketch.

On January 20, 1884, the subject of this tribute was married to Miss Ada Lewis, daughter of Judge Everett . and Alice J. Lewis of Gonzales, Texas. One child, Ada Lewis Houston, was born to this union. Mrs. Houston died January 5, 1889. Mr. Houston was again married and selected as his second wife, Miss Sue Jones, daughter of Captain August H. Jones, a gallant soldier of the Mexican War, and Minerva Lewis Jones. Of a Southern ancestry, his lines were cast upon a stage of action harking hack as a connecting link between the days of the old South and the more recent of the pioneer days which have made Texas the most prosperous and most progressive of states constituting the old Southland. Born in Texas, and bred in the wholesome, manly, broadening and liberalizing atmosphere of the Southwest, he developed a love for Texas, and things indigenous to her soil, as tenaciously patriotic as that of a Scotchman for his favorite meadows and moorland, his forests and fens and highland crags.

Mr. Houston was a man of large stature and commanding presence, remarkable for his clear logical thinking, a leader among his business associates and friends, so much relied upon by them that they fondly called him ^'General.''

In politics he was a Democrat, in religious affiliation a Baptist, fond of a practical joke, possessing a large fund of humor, a mimic beyond compare in portraying the eccentricities of human nature, generous to the needy and distressed, without show or demonstration, and in his daily walk of life and in his dealing with his fellows, an upright man.

While proud of his birth and lineage, and prizing most highly the inheritance of blood, breeding and a good name, he himself was a man of action and impatient of those who in their own life could only borrow and not reflect as much light as they received from a noble past. *'Be an ancestor, not forever boasting one,'' seemed to be his motto.

Educated in the schools of Gonzales county, he received his broader culture in the open and under the star-lit canopy of the ethereal blue, where heavens declare the glory of God, and the firmament showeth His handi- work in the rugged and the rough experiences of daily life. If the poet was right in saying the chiefest study of man is man, then, where others became technical in colleges that teach the stress and strain of steel, to weigh with chemistry the material atoms, and to measure the heat of the sun and the distance of the stars, he became technical with rare exactment in his appraisement and estimates of men, for man was his study. He studied the elements and the character that go to make up a man, as measured by the yard stick of those who have achieved the most, thought the noblest, and governed themselves the most perfectly.

Thrown on his own resources, without means, at the early age of nineteen, he branched out for himself in the cattle business, living chiefly on the range, breathing the fresh air of the open and communing with nature at first hand, developed a self-reliance which with native endowments of mind, keen perceptions and decisive judgments of things, of aifairs, of human nature and of men, made him the master of his fate, with the result that wealth with honor was easily acquired and accumulated to comfort those dependent upon him.

Could from the tomb the lips of him in whose honor this tribute is written make answer to this inquiry. What did you in this life most value, and by what chart did you steer your course of action over life's sea? I am of the unalterable conviction he would quickly answer: Loyalty. Loyalty in all its ramifications and in all that trust and confidence, loyalty to the highest conception of honor's code, loyalty to the principles of justice and right and fair play, loyalty to one's dignity, manhood and selfrespect, loyalty as a son, as a father, as a husband, and brother, loyalty as a friend.

Fidelity has been defined by one as the conformity of our actions to our engagements whether express or implied, if in such case love is added to fidelity it becomes loyalty.

This dominant trait of his character has been the wonder and admiration of his friends as they beheld his tender solicitous care for the gray-haired mother, his devotion to those he honored with the name of wife, his tender watchful care for his only child and the regardful concern and sympathetic interest in those whom he classed as friends. This trait made him to be recognized as a man in whom the fullest confidence could be reposed in whose bosom friendship could not be betrayed. This commendable trait bound to him, naturally, numerous friends, staunch and true. No deaf ear was turned to any appeal made in the name of friendship ; nothing he could do was left undone at the behest of a friend; his time, his energy, his effort, influence, his credit, all were at the disposal of him who in his thought was worthy to be called a friend.

Let the drum sound a muffled note, the evening of life has come, his day is done, his sun is set. His spirit has taken its flight to its God. But his memory triumphant like the streamers and afterglow of an Italian sunset on a golden day, remains to remind those of us who look up and higher that a right life may be rightly lived.

Served With Lee And Jackson

I was born in Green county, Alabama, July 23, 1842. Enlisted in the Confederate army in March, 1861, in Company '^C," 11th Alabama Regiment. Was assigned to the army of Northern Virginia, commanded by Generals Eobert E. Lee and Stonewall Jackson. Engaged in more than twenty battles. Was appointed captain of my company to date from the great Battle of the Crater at Petersburg, Va. R e c o m - mended by Generals Mahone and Sanders. I remained in the service until the close of the war. Came to Texas in 1874, and went up the trail to Ogallala for Slaughter & Woodard in 1876, with Allen Harris in charge. Owing to the mode of handling cattle like an army it was no new job to me. Returned to Frio county in 1877, and was elected sheriff of Frio county in 1878 and served in that capacity for ten years. Waiting in Pearsall for Gabriel to ^^toot his horn'' but not by invitation from me.

Harrowing Experience With Jayhawkers

The following account is by J. M. Daugherty, of Daugherty, Texas, a charter member of the the Old Trail Drivers. He is better known to all cattlemen as Uncle Jim Daugherty, and is one of the best known Texas cattlemen still in the business. At present he is sole owner of the Figure 2 Ranch, located in Culberson and Huds- peth counties, Texas, estimated to be the largest and best equipped ranch in Texas. He maintains his headquarters at Daugherty, Texas. Uncle Jim has made many trail drives, starting as a boy in his teens in 1886 and continuing until 1887, during which time he has driven many trails and delivered many herds to all parts of Kansas, Nebraska, the Dakotas, Montana, Wyoming, Utah and Colorado :

''In the spring of 1866 I made my first trail drive. Starting from Denton county, Texas, with a herd of about 500 steers and fiYe cow hands and myself, I crossed Eed River at a crossing known at that time as Preston. From there I drove to Fort Gibson, Indian Territory, and from Fort Gibson I drove to Baxter Springs, Kansas, close to the Kansas and Indian Territory line. I had started to Sedalia, Missouri, where I intended shipping the cattle by rail to St. Louis. On arriving at Baxter Springs I found that there had been several herds ahead of me that had been disturbed by what we called at that time Kansas Jayhawkers, and in one instance the Jayhawkers had killed the owner, taken the herd, and ran the rest of the cowboys off. This herd belonged to Kaynaird and was gathered in the southern part of the Choctaw Nation in the Indian Territory.

After hearing this news I decided to stop and lay up for awhile, and stopped with the herd on what was then known as the Neutral Strip, a strip of land about twenty miles wide that ran across the northern part of the Indian Territory, next to the Kansas line. Here I left the herd and my cowboys and I started to ride alone up the trail to investigate conditions.

I rode as far as Fort Scott, Kansas, and there I met a man by the name of Ben Keys, whom I told I had a herd on the Neutral Strip I would like to sell. He agreed to buy them if I would make deliverance at Fort Scott, Kansas. I returned to the Neutral Strip and we started driving the herd north along the Kansas-Missouri line, sometimes in the state of Kansas and sometimes in Missouri. From the information that I had received regarding the big risk we were taking by trying to drive through, we were always on the lookout for trouble.

Some twenty miles south of Fort Scott, Kansas, and about four o'clock one afternoon a bunch of fifteen or twenty Jayhawkers came upon us. One of my cowboys, John Dobbins by name, was leading the herd and I was riding close to the leader. Upon approach of the Jayhawkers John attempted to draw his gun and the Jayhawkers shot him dead in his saddle. This caused the cattle to stampede and at the same time they covered me with their guns and I was forced to surrender. The rest of the cowboys stayed with the herd, losing part of them in the stampede. The Jayhawkers took me to Cow Creek which was near by, and there tried me for driving cattle into their country, which they claimed were infested with ticks which would kill their cattle. I was found guilty without any evidence, they not even having one of my cattle for evidence. Then they began to argue among themselves what to do with me. Some wanted to hang me while others wanted to whip me to death. I, being a young man in my teens and my sympathetic talk about being ignorant of ticky cattle of the south diseasing any of the cattle in their country caused one of the big Jayhawkers to take my part. The balance were strong for hanging me on the spot, but through his arguments they finally let me go.

After I was freed and had joined the herd, two of my cowboys and I slipped back and buried John Dobbins where he fell. After we had buried him we cut down a small tree and hewed out a head and footboard and marked his grave. Then we slipped back to the herd. This being soon after the close of the Civil War, the Jayhawkers were said to be soldiers mustered out of the Yankee army. They were nothing more than a bunch of cattle rustlers and were not interested about fever ticks coming into their country but used this just as a pretense to kill the men with the herds and steal the cattle or stampede the herds. After rejoining the herd I found that during the stampede I had lost about one hundred and fifty head of cattle, which was a total loss to me. I drove the balance of the herd back to the Neutral Strip, and after resting a day or two, went back to Fort Scott, and reported to Mr. Keys what had happened. Mr. Keys sent a man back to the herd with me to guide us to Fort Scott. On my return to the herd with the guide we started the drive to Fort Scott the second time. The guide knew the country well, which was very thinly settled. We would drive the herd at night and would lay up at some secluded spot during the day. After driving in this manner for five days and five nights we reached Fort Scott about daybreak of the fifth night and penned the cattle in a high board corral adjoining a livery stable, which completely hid them from the public view. We put our horses in the livery stable, and went to a place Mr. Keys had provided for us to sleep and get something to eat, as we had left our chuck wagon a day behind us on the trail. As soon as the cattle were penned Mr. Keys paid me for them. Then we ate our breakfast and slept all day. When darkness fell we saddled our horses and started back over the trail to Texas. I returned to Texas without any further incident worth noting, and continued to drive the trail, rarely missing a year that I did not make a drive.

Major George W. Littlefield

The passing of Major Geo. W. Littlefield in November of 1920 took from the cattle industry of Texas one of its most spectacular figures for Major Littlefield 's life was really a section of Texas history. A connecting of the hardships and chivalry of the days of the trail to the wonderful development and progress. In each section he acted well his part. He was not lucky in the shirkers ' idea of the word. From boyhood he worked with unremitting diligence and saved part of what he made.

His early life was spent largely on the free and open range - a life that is conducive to fairness in a deal, loyalty to comrades. Both of these attributes Major George W. Littlefield had to a great extent.

Major Littlefield was born in Mississippi, June 23, 1842, but came with his parents to Texas when only eight years old. True to his ideals he enlisted in the Confederate Army when only eighteen as second lieutenant. On May 1, 1862, he was made first lieutenant, and within a few days rose to the rank of captain of his company which was a part of the famous Terry's Texas Rangers. He was promoted to Major on the battlefield for exceptional bravery in action. A severe shrapnel wound disabled him and he was sent home to Gonzales.

It was here he embarked in the cattle industry that proved the golden trail for him. His first money was invested in land which became the nucleus for the famous Yellow House Eanch in Lamb county. Later he bought other land and established other ranches in Texas and New Mexico. From the longhorn of the range he bred ap to the very best type of Hereford. In the good old days from five to six thousand calves were branded on his ranch every year.

Major Littlefield moved to Austin in 1883, and from that time he conducted his enormous business interests from Austin. In 1890 he opened The American National Bank in Austin with a capital less than $100,000. It has grown and expanded until now its resources are over $10,000,000. With the expansion a bank home commensurate with the dignity of the business became necessary and the Littlefield Building on Sixth and Congress became a monument of his business success and enterprise. The splendid nine-story building of steel and brick with trimmings of gray Texas granite and terra cotta is fireproof throughout. It is equipped with two 16-passenger elevators. The wainscoting of the main corridor is of Pavonazzi marble in frames of verde antique. The corridors and floors including the bank are of tile. But the bank was his pride. In it he builded the memories of a life time. The huge bronze doors of the main entrance are of bronze representing actual scenes on Major Littlefield's ranch and the door handles are steers' heads. The Financier of New York featured these doors as a frontispiece saying they *^were the most famous bronze doors in America. That other doors featured carnage and destruction but these doors represented a great industry." On the exquisitely tinted walls the mural paintings depict scenes from Yellow House Ranch and an apple orchard from his ranch near Roswell. A huge American Eagle sent from one of the ranches stands guard with outstretched wings over the main entrance exemplifying one of Major Littlefield 's strongest characteristics. Loyalty. During the late war Major Littlefield gave his money without stint to the Red Cross, and bought Libei^ty "^Bonds in sums that made the uninitiated

Major Littlefield's palatial home adjoins the University of Texas campus - nay, is now a part of it and he learned to love this institution of learning as if it was a favored child. Specially was he interested in the Department of Southern history, that future generations might look with pride on the deeds of the Southland. His bequests from time to time grew into the goodly sum of nearly three millions, the Wrenn Library, his personal gift, makes the name of Littlefield known on two continents as a philanthropist of a high order.

His gentle little wife, Mrs. Alice Littlefield, lives in his palatial home and her devotion to * ^George'' is as loyal today as when she was a real helpmate to him in days when with other splendid Texans, the Old Time Trail Drivers, builded better than they knew.

Major Geo. W. Littlefield left as trustees for his large estate, men who have been by his side a lifetime - kinsmen tried and true : J. P. White of Roswell, New Mexico, Whitfield Harral of Dallas and H. A. Wroe, president of the American National Bank of Austin, Texas.

Kidnapped The Inspectors

I was born October 16, 1851, at St. Mary's, Perry county, Missouri, and came to Texas when a very small child with my parents, Mr. and Mrs. Hilary Tucker. When I was twelve years old I was seized with the desire to travel, and made my first trip from Bovine to San Antonio with a load of government bacon which was to be sent to Fort Smith, Arkansas. This trip required four weeks and the one thing that stands out most vividly

Leo Tucker

I began my work with the cattlemen in 1869, going up the trail and serving as cook at a salary of $10 per month, which was later raised to $35. Sitting around the camp-fires and listening to the men tell of their trips caused me to decide that the life of a cowboy was the route I wanted to follow. Fortunately I was associated with a few of the grand old stockm e n of Lavaca county, namely, Jim Hickey, John May, Joel Bennett, J. X. May, Bill Gentry, Dick May and A. May, to whose fine characters I am indebted for that training which carried me through many trying times.

In 1871 I left Bovine, Lavaca county, going out by the Kokernot Eanch, by Peach Creek, passing Gonzales, and Lockhart, and on by Onion Creek; then passing Donohue, the old stage stand, following the trail on by Austin, Eound Eock, Georgetown, Waco, Belton, to the left of Dallas, by Sherman, then Gainesville, and crossing Eed Eiver out by Carriage Point, by way of Fort Arbuckle into Indian Territory, out by Oswego, Kansas. Here we met a bunch of friendly Comanche Indians who had been out on the banks of the Arkansas Eiver making a treaty with another tribe. Our next place was Ellsworth, Kansas. Here we met George West and a bunch of boys on the trail. As Abilene was the end of our trip I returned home.

In 1873 I again started up the trail with my old comrade, D. May. When we reached Eed Eiver Station two inspectors came up and looked over our herd and found two unbranded beeves. They told us we would have to pay $50 each for having cattle without a brand. There were thirteen herds belonging to a man named Butler. Mr. Butler instructed the boys to capture the two inspectors and put them in a wagon. They were taken into the Indian Territory, across Pond Creek, where they were turned loose, and they had to swim the creek to get back home. This was the last trouble we had with inspectors.

In 1874 with John May and Joel Bennett, I made one of my hardest and most eventful trips. We left Bovine in February with 3,000 head of cattle and had a splendid drive, with a few mishaps, until we reached Rush Creek. From here we proceeded to Hell Roaring Creek, about fifteen miles north, with a blizzard raging. That night was the coldest I ever experienced. Snow, sleet and ice were one and a half feet deep, and our stock suffered. Our loss was not as heavy as some of our neighbors, under Sol West, whose horses froze under their riders. West, Boyce McCrab and Al Fields lost many of their horses. We went on to Ellsworth, and from there to Norfolk, Nebraska, on the Missouri River. Millett & Mayberry were to receive the beeves here, but made us an offer of $1,000 extra if we would deliver them across the Missouri river to Yankton in Dakota. We would not take the risk of the loss of the cattle as we knew a blizzard might overtake us while the 3,000 beeves were being crossed over. However, we swam them across 75 at a time, the boys using three canoes and kept fighting them in the face with water to keep them from angling across. It was there I first saw a steamboat. It was the Mary Mag- dalen. The next morning a tliousand Indians passed us going from Niobrara and going southward. We talked and traded with tliem through their agent. The squaws had their children strapped to their backs.

At Brookville, Kansas, in 1874, I took charge of 3,000 beeves for Dick May and Bill Gentry, and took them to Shenandoah, Iowa, where I delivered them on Christmas Eve to Mr. Rankin on his large ranch. I experienced many hardships in Iowa on account of the blizzards. In order to secure water for the cattle I had to break ice for over a month. Dick May was taken very sick and I started back with him. When we reached Kansas City we put up at the Lindell Hotel, and were assigned a room on the highest floor, but for some reason or other I objected to it, and we were given a room on the lower floor. We left next morning for Brooksville and when we reached there we learned that the Lindell Hotel had burned down.

The year 1875 marks the end of my going over the famous old trail, with its excitements of killing butfalo and elk, meeting Indians, and swimming streams. I have swam the Eed River, often half a mile wide, as many as thirteen times in one day, always going ahead of the herds, and right here will say that after all of my good swimming I was finally nearly drowned in a small creek named Elm near St. Joe. I was asleep when the noise of the rush of water brought about by a cloudburst caused the cattle to stampede. Jumping on my horse I made a dash to cross the stream to get to the cattle when the water swept my horse from under me. Jim Skipworth saw my peril and threw a rope around me and dragged me to shore. After hard work they succeeded in resuscitating me, but I was unconscious all day. My faithful pony was drowned. I made the last trip with May & Hickey, to Ellsworth, Kansas. While we were returning home, and when east of Fort Sill, the Indians got on the warpath on the night of July 24, 1875, and bnruod all the stage stands from Caldwell, Kansas, to Eed Eiver Station in Texas. They rounded up three government wagons, killed the drivers, shot the oxen, burned the wagons, and stole the horses. We crossed the river just in time to miss them and saved our lives.

On October 5, 1875, I was married to Miss Jane Hogan in Yoakum, Lavaca county, and to us were born seven children, all yet living. They are John H. Tucker, Alfred Tucker, San Antonio; Lorena Dullye, San Antonio; Mary Kuenstler, Yoakum; Rosa Dullye, Yoakum; Vira Sheffield, Yoakum ; Minnie Buenger, Edna, Texas.

David C. Pryor

David Christopher Pryor was born on a plantation near Alexandria, Louisiana, March 27, 1850, of Scotch- Irish descent. His parents were David C. and Emily A. McKissack Pryor. His father died when he was four years of age and his mother four years later. Mr. Pryor was reared by a maternal aunt and uncle jointly in Alabama and Tennessee. In 1870 his eldest brother, A. M. Pryor, then living in Texas, visited relatives in Alabama and Tennessee and advised his brothers, David C. and Ike T. Pryor, to return with him to Texas and seek their fortunes. Immediately on their arrival in Texas, David C. was employed as a cowboy to help drive a herd of cattle up the trail. This occupation appealed to him, so he drove to Western markets for several years. Then came the railroads with rapid transit, and trail driving ceased to be the popular route for marketing cattle, after which time he made his home in Austin, Texas, and in the state of Colorado, following various occupations. Finally in 1889, when Oklahoma was opened for white settlement, he was ^ ^ on the ground, ' ' secured a claim, and has lived there ever since, save a few years in which he managed a West Texas ranch for his brother, Ike T. Pryor. For some years he has been engaged in oil development in Oklahoma. By nature Mr. Pryor is a gentleman of the ^^ Old South''; is well informed on historical and current events, fond of literature, of a literary mind and has written some clever verses. In politics he is a Democrat, takes a lively interest in both State and National politics. While not actively engaged in the cattle business, nothing delights him more than to meet the ^'boys" of the early seventies and live over the good old days of trail driving, ** chuck-wagon eats," night watch and when the Indian and buffalo roamed the plains.

Helped Drive The Indians Out Of Brown County

I was born in Missouri on January 15, 1854, and moved to Texas with my father's family in 1858 and settled four miles south of the town of San Marcos.

I made my first trip to Kansas in 1871 mth William Hewitt and my father's cattle; in 1872 with West & Musgrove's cattle; in 1873 with Sam Johnston's cattle and my uncle, J. L. Driskill's cattle in 1874 and 1875. Then I quit the trail until 1880.

In the fall of 1875, I moved to Brown county with about three hundred and fifty head of cattle and helped to drive the Indians out of that country. I settled on the Pecan Bayou seventeen miles below Brownwood.

Stayed on the Pecan Bayou forty-two years. That was a good stock country when I moved there. Then I drove mine and my brother's, S. L. Driskiirs, cattle. That was a dry year and when I got to the Indian Territory, I had to make a drive of ninety-six hours without water. I thought my time had come, but on the fourth day, just about sundown, I struck water and all the old trail drivers can guess how those cattle looked. I had about fourteen hundred and fifty head, drove them to Dodge City, Kansas, with four men and myself and only lost one cow.

I now live in Uvalde county, at Sabinal. The latch string hangs on the outside of the door and if any old *^ trail driver '^ should chance to come this way, stop and see me. I have had many ups and downs in this life but I am proud of one thing: I have plenty to keep me and my wife the rest of our days.

Robert E. Stafford

Eobert Earl Stafford was born March 27, 1834, in Glynn county, Georgia, of English-Welsh descent. His parents were Eobert and Martha A. Stafford. He received an academic education at Waynesville, Georgia. His nature was highly unselfish, his mind broad, generous and enterprising, and his spirit courageous. His purse was ever open to the calls of charity and his ear attentive to the appeals of the unfortunate. Having, . unaided fought his way, encountering many of the vicissitudes of life, his heart instead of becoming hard and cold was capable of a warmer and wider humanity. December 27, 1854, lie was united in marriage to Miss Sarah E. Zouks of Liberty county, Georgia ; to this union seven children were born, of which only one survives them. Ambitious and progressive, his attention was attracted to Texas as offering a fine field for financial advancement, so in 1858 he came to this state and located in Colorado county and engaged in stockraising and farming on a small scale. When war was declared between the states in 1861, he joined the Confederate Army as a volunteer in Company B, commanded by Captain Upton, Fifth Texas Infantry, John B. Hood's Brigade. He was as faithful a soldier as any who shared the fortunes of that band of veterans. At the close of the war, he like many others, came home penniless, but resumed the conduct of his affairs with an energy that knew no diminution and an ability capable of accomplishing any undertaking.

In the spring of 1869 he drove a herd of cattle to Kansas. This venture proved successful and he enlarged his business by purchasing all the brands in his section that were for sale. In 1872 he entered into a contract with Allen Poole & Co. to supply beef for the Havana, Cuba, market. The returns of his enterprise not being satisfactory he abandoned it and engaged in selling cattle to Western men for Indian contracts. In 1878, when the firm of Allen Poole & Co. failed he bought their cattle, ranches, etc. His fortune increased rapidly and finding it profitable to manage his own exchange in 1882 he organized a private bank, R. E. Stafford & Co., of which he was president and sole owner.

In 1883 the idea occurred to him that it would be profitable to the stockmen of his community to sell dressed beef in Western and foreign markets, so he therefore organized a stock company known as the Columbus Meat and Ice Company. He was unanimously elected president and put in a plant at the cost of $250,000, with capacity of 250 head of cattle and forty tons of ice per day. The company filled an order with an English syndicate and for some time shipped dressed beef to Chicago, New Orleans, Galveston and other points. But the business was not as successful as he desired so he closed the factory, and again confined himself to selling to Western buyers, and shipping from his ranches to New Orleans, Galveston and Houston.

July 7, 1890, about seven o'clock in the afternoon, Eobert E. Stafford and his brother John, a partner in many enterprises, although unarmed and unable to defend themselves were slain upon the streets of Columbus, by men, one of whom Eobert E. Stafford had befriended. He was a member of the Masonic fraternity and of the Knights of Honor. In politics he was a Democrat and took a deep interest in public affairs. He was many times a delegate to state conventions.

Eobert E. Stafford was a devoted husband, kind and loving father, true friend and a citizen above reproach. He did much to develop the section in which he lived.

Lafayette Ward

Lafayette Ward was the son of Lafayette Ward, Sr., a Kentuckian by birth, and Agnes Ward, who were married in Missouri and moved to Texas in 1840 and settled on Carancahua Bay, in Jackson county, where the elder Ward helped make a part of early Texas history. It was here that Lafayette Ward was born in the year 1854. He grew to young manhood under his mother's guidance having lost his father when he was only seven years old. His mother operated a cattle ranch and young Ward grew up in the business, looking after his mother's interests and then began operations for himself when still a young man. His education was received at Concrete and at Salado in Bell county, to which place he rode horseback from the Gulf. In the latter seventies he carried large herds of cattle up the trail, wintering near Dodge City, Kansas. In his later years he was a member of the Old Trail Drivers' Association.

Mr. Ward began buying the rich Jackson county lands very early in his career and stocked them with cattle until he owned at one time 76,000 acres in a solid body and at the time of his death still owned 40,000 acres of the choicest lands in the county, in the center of which is located the town of La Ward on the St. Louis, Brownsville and Mexico railroad. In keeping with his naturally progressive nature he was a pioneer in the Gulf Coast country in the breeding up of cattle until today his herds of Herefords and Brahmas are classed among the best in the state.

In addition to his holdings in Jackson county Mr. Ward owned large holdings of city property in San Antonio and a ranch of 18,000 acres in Kimble county and 23,000 acres in Hardeman and Foard counties.

Thomas Jefferson Moore

Possessed of rare virtues of heart and mind, a personal magnetism rarely met with in life, a personality that stamped him as a man of prominence and a leader in every gathering, the late Thomas Jefferson Moore, of Llano, Llano county, Texas, at the time of his death, Wednesday, May 31, 1911, was recognized by all as a pre-eminent leader in the livestock world, and one of Texas' great men. Born in Tuscaloosa county, Alabama, March 31, 1847, of good old Irish stock, he came to Texas with his parents, Jefferson Moore and Susan Jeffreys Moore, in 1855. Guadalupe county, near Seguin, was the location selected for the new home, where the elder Moore engaged in farming and stock raising on a small scale. Endowed at his birth with a splendid constitution and a magnificent brain, young Moore was given the sturdy training of the frontier. Industry and work came to him as a matter of course, and throughout his long and eventful life, he was an indefatigable worker. His business acumen was recognized in every section of the Southwest and many of his associates in the livestock industry came to him for advice which when followed out, almost universally led to success.

At the age of sixteen young Moore joined the Confederate army, enlisting in Captain Nixon's Company, Wood's Regiment, and with this splendid fighting organization he saw service until the close of the war. He never shirked a duty, his bravery was tempered with kindness and generosity and he had many warm friends among the members of his regiment. Seeing the proverbial Irish sense of hnmor and optimism, he set an inspiring example of cheerfulness under every hardship.

When the war closed, young Moore returned to Guadalupe county, where he worked on his father's farm and engaged in the freighting business with ox teams. This was the only means of distributing merchandise in those days, and the work, while very arduous at times was highly remunerative. His first venture in the cattle business was in the early 70 's, when he bought cattle in Blanco county and drove them up the trail to Kansas, whe*re he wintered his stock and sold in the spring. He continued in this work for several years, and his buying and selling of stock reached a point where he handled thousands of head each year. He used the trail for marketing cattle as long as it remained open to the North. In the latter 70 's he went into stock raising on a large scale and this was his life occupation. He was a pioneer in stock improvement and early began improving registered bulls, although he made a specialty of prize-winning stock.

His various land and cattle investments were not confined to Texas, where he had extensive possessions in Llano and Webb counties, but in 1889, with John T. Lytle, J. R. Blocker and W. H. Jennings, he purchased more than 500,000 acres of land in Coahuila, Mexico. This tract of land is known as the Piedra Blanco Eanch, and is stocked with thousands of head of high-grade cattle. Captain Lytle died in 1906, when the remaining members bought out his heirs. The Piedra Blanco Ranch is still owned by the T. J. Moore estate, W. H. Jennings and J. R. Blocker. The Piedra Blanco Ranch was a source of much satisfaction to Mr. Moore, and many hours of his last years on earth were spent in mental direction and advisement of procedures on his property.

Mr. Moore became a member of the Texas Cattle Eaisers' Association early in its organization and was alive to its interest and progress. Through personal influence and acquaintance he secured a large number of members for the Association among the stock raisers of North and South Texas. As an active worker in the Association he contributed toward the upbuilding of the cattle industry in the Southwest. For many years he was president of the Llano County Bank, of Llano, Texas, which later became the Home National Bank, and in which Mr. Moore was the largest individual stockholder.

Mr. Moore was married to Miss Carrie Roberts, a daughter of Captain and Mrs. Alexandria Roberts, of Blanco county, August 10, 1875. Of this union there was born one child, Edna Jeffreys, who now resides with her mother in the Moore home at Llano. Mr. Moore was reared in the Primitive Baptist faith, and his early Christian training shaped his entire life. His life-long friend, John C. Oatman, pays this tribute to his memory :

**As a husband and father, he was ever loving and tender. To supply their wants and make his wife and daughter happy was the greatest joy. As a friend, he was as true as the magnetic needle to the north star. In the darkest hour of their adversity he stood closest to his friends, and with his money and his counsel he assisted many. "We are told in Holy Writ that pure and undefiled religion consisted in visiting the widows and fatherless in their afflictions, and it was in this Godlike and Godgiven trait of character that Tom Moore shined brightest. How many unfortunate, helpless persons he assisted during his life only the Great Father knows. True it is that he never turned any away empty. All this he did for sweet charity ^s sake, for no one ever heard him boast of what he had done.''