CHAPTER XI
A BOGGY FORD
That night we learned from Straw our location on the trail. We werefar above the Indian reservation, and instead of having been astrayour foreman had held a due northward course, and we were probably asfar on the trail as if we had followed the regular route. So in spiteof all our good maxims, we had been borrowing trouble; we were neverover thirty miles to the westward of what was then the new WesternCattle Trail. We concluded that the "Running W" herd had turned back,as Straw brought the report that some herd had recrossed Red River theday before his arrival, giving for reasons the wet season and thedanger of getting waterbound.
About noon of the second day after leaving the North Fork of RedRiver, we crossed the Washita, a deep stream, the slippery banks ofwhich gave every indication of a recent rise. We had no trouble incrossing either wagon or herd, it being hardly a check in our onwardcourse. The abandonment of the regular trail the past ten days hadbeen a noticeable benefit to our herd, for the cattle had had anabundance of fresh country to graze over as well as plenty of rest.But now that we were back on the trail, we gave them their freedom andfrequently covered twenty miles a day, until we reached the SouthCanadian, which proved to be the most delusive stream we had yetencountered. It also showed, like the Washita, every evidence ofhaving been on a recent rampage. On our arrival there was no volume ofwater to interfere, but it had a quicksand bottom that would bog asaddle blanket. Our foreman had been on ahead and examined the regularcrossing, and when he returned, freely expressed his opinion that wewould be unable to trail the herd across, but might hope to effect itby cutting it into small bunches. When we came, therefore, withinthree miles of the river, we turned off the trail to a near-by creekand thoroughly watered the herd. This was contrary to our practice,for we usually wanted the herd thirsty when reaching a large river.But any cow brute that halted in fording the Canadian that day wasdoomed to sink into quicksands from which escape was doubtful.
We held the wagon and saddle horses in the rear, and when we were halfa mile away from the trail ford, cut off about two hundred head of theleaders and started for the crossing, leaving only the horse wranglerand one man with the herd. On reaching the river we gave them an extrapush, and the cattle plunged into the muddy water. Before the cattlehad advanced fifty feet, instinct earned them of the treacherousfooting, and the leaders tried to turn back; but by that time we hadthe entire bunch in the water and were urging them forward. They hadhalted but a moment and begun milling, when several heavy steers sank;then we gave way and allowed the rest to come back. We did not realizefully the treachery of this river until we saw that twenty cattle werecaught in the merciless grasp of the quicksand. They sank slowly tothe level of their bodies, which gave sufficient resistance to supporttheir weight, but they were hopelessly bogged. We allowed the freecattle to return to the herd, and immediately turned our attention tothose that were bogged, some of whom were nearly submerged by water.We dispatched some of the boys to the wagon for our heavy corral ropesand a bundle of horse-hobbles; and the remainder of us, stripped tothe belt, waded out and surveyed the situation at close quarters. Wewere all experienced in handling bogged cattle, though this quicksandwas the most deceptive that I, at least, had ever witnessed. Thebottom of the river as we waded through it was solid under our feet,and as long as we kept moving it felt so, but the moment we stopped wesank as in a quagmire. The "pull" of this quicksand was so strong thatfour of us were unable to lift a steer's tail out, once it wasimbedded in the sand. And when we had released a tail by burrowingaround it to arm's length and freed it, it would sink of its ownweight in a minute's time until it would have to be burrowed outagain. To avoid this we had to coil up the tails and tie them with asoft rope hobble.
Fortunately none of the cattle were over forty feet from the bank, andwhen our heavy rope arrived we divided into two gangs and began thework of rescue. We first took a heavy rope from the animal's horns tosolid footing on the river bank, and tied to this five or six of ourlariats. Meanwhile others rolled a steer over as far as possible andbegan burrowing with their hands down alongside a fore and hind legsimultaneously until they could pass a small rope around the pasternabove the cloof, or better yet through the cloven in the hoof, whenthe leg could be readily lifted by two men. We could not stopburrowing, however, for a moment, or the space would fill andsolidify. Once a leg was freed, we doubled it back short and securelytied it with a hobble, and when the fore and hind leg were thussecured, we turned the animal over on that side and released the otherlegs in a similar manner. Then we hastened out of the water and intoour saddles, and wrapped the loose end of our ropes to the pommels,having already tied the lariats to the heavy corral rope from theanimal's horns. When the word was given, we took a good swingingstart, and unless something gave way there was one steer less in thehog. After we had landed the animal high and dry on the bank, it wasbut a minute's work to free the rope and untie the hobbles. Then itwas advisable to get into the saddle with little loss of time and givehim a wide berth, for he generally arose angry and sullen.
It was dark before we got the last of the bogged cattle out andretraced our way to camp from the first river on the trip that hadturned us. But we were not the least discouraged, for we felt certainthere was a ford that had a bottom somewhere within a few miles, andwe could hunt it up on the morrow. The next one, however, we would trybefore we put the cattle in. There was no question that thetreacherous condition of the river was due to the recent freshet,which had brought down new deposits of sediment and had agitated theold, even to changing the channel of the river, so that it had not asyet had sufficient time to settle and solidify.
The next morning after breakfast, Flood and two or three of the boysset out up the river, while an equal number of us started, under theleadership of The Rebel, down the river on a similar errand,--toprospect for a crossing. Our party scouted for about five miles, andthe only safe footing we could find was a swift, narrow channelbetween the bank and an island in the river, while beyond the islandwas a much wider channel with water deep enough in several places toswim our saddle horses. The footing seemed quite secure to our horses,but the cattle were much heavier; and if an animal ever bogged in theriver, there was water enough to drown him before help could berendered. We stopped our horses a number of times, however, to try thefooting, and in none of our experiments was there any indication ofquicksand, so we counted the crossing safe. On our return we found theherd already in motion, headed up the river where our foreman hadlocated a crossing. As it was then useless to make any mention of theisland crossing which we had located, at least until a trial had beengiven to the upper ford, we said nothing. When we came within half amile of the new ford, we held up the herd and allowed them to graze,and brought up the _remuda_ and crossed and recrossed them withoutbogging a single horse. Encouraged at this, we cut off about a hundredhead of heavy lead cattle and started for the ford. We had a good pushon them when we struck the water, for there were ten riders aroundthem and Flood was in the lead. We called to him several times thatthe cattle were bogging, but he never halted until he pulled out onthe opposite bank, leaving twelve of the heaviest steers in thequicksand.
"Well, in all my experience in trail work," said Flood, as he gazedback at the dozen animals struggling in the quicksand, "I never saw asdeceptive a bottom in any river. We used to fear the Cimarron andPlatte, but the old South Canadian is the girl that can lay it overthem both. Still, there ain't any use crying over spilt milk, and wehaven't got men enough to hold two herds, so surround them, boys, andwe'll recross them if we leave twenty-four more in the river. Takethem back a good quarter, fellows, and bring them up on a run, andI'll take the lead when they strike the water; and give them no showto halt until they get across."
As the little bunch of cattle had already grazed out nearly a quarter,we rounded them into a compact body and started for the river torecross them. The nearer we came to the river, the faster we went,till we struck the water. In several places where there
were channels,we could neither force the cattle nor ride ourselves faster than awalk on account of the depth of the water, but when we struck theshallows, which were the really dangerous places, we forced the cattlewith horse and quirt. Near the middle of the river, in shoal water,Rod Wheat was quirting up the cattle, when a big dun steer, trying toget out of his reach, sank in the quicksand, and Rod's horse stumbledacross the animal and was thrown. He floundered in attempting to rise,and his hind feet sank to the haunches. His ineffectual strugglescaused him to sink farther to the flanks in the loblolly which thetramping of the cattle had caused, and there horse and steer lay, sideby side, like two in a bed. Wheat loosened the cinches of the saddleon either side, and stripping the bridle off, brought up the rear,carrying saddle, bridle, and blankets on his back. The river was atleast three hundred yards wide, and when we got to the farther bank,our horses were so exhausted that we dismounted and let them blow. Asurvey showed we had left a total of fifteen cattle and the horse inthe quicksands. But we congratulated ourselves that we had bogged downonly three head in recrossing. Getting these cattle out was a muchharder task than the twenty head gave us the day before, for many ofthese were bogged more than a hundred yards from the bank. But no timewas to be lost; the wagon was brought up in a hurry, fresh horses werecaught, and we stripped for the fray. While McCann got dinner we gotout the horse, even saving the cinches that were abandoned in freeinghim of the saddle.
During the afternoon we were compelled to adopt a new mode ofprocedure, for with the limited amount of rope at hand, we could onlyuse one rope for drawing the cattle out to solid footing, after theywere freed from the quagmire. But we had four good mules to our chuckwagon, and instead of dragging the cattle ashore from the pommels ofsaddles, we tied one end of the rope to the hind axle and used themules in snaking the cattle out. This worked splendidly, but everytime we freed a steer we had to drive the wagon well out of reach, forfear he might charge the wagon and team. But with three crews workingin the water, tying up tails and legs, the work progressed morerapidly than it had done the day before, and two hours before sunsetthe last animal had been freed. We had several exciting incidentsduring the operation, for several steers showed fight, and whenreleased went on the prod for the first thing in sight. The herd wasgrazing nearly a mile away during the afternoon, and as fast as asteer was pulled out, some one would take a horse and give the freedanimal a start for the herd. One big black steer turned on Flood, whogenerally attended to this, and gave him a spirited chase. In gettingout of the angry steer's way, he passed near the wagon, when themaddened beef turned from Flood and charged the commissary. McCann wasriding the nigh wheel mule, and when he saw the steer coming, hepoured the whip into the mules and circled around like a battery infield practice, trying to get out of the way. Flood made severalattempts to cut off the steer from the wagon, but he followed it likea mover's dog, until a number of us, fearing our mules would be gored,ran out of the water, mounted our horses, and joined in the chase.When we came up with the circus, our foreman called to us to rope thebeef, and Fox Quarternight, getting in the first cast, caught him bythe two front feet and threw him heavily. Before he could rise,several of us had dismounted and were sitting on him like buzzards oncarrion. McCann then drove the team around behind a sand dune, out ofsight; we released the beef, and he was glad to return to the herd,quite sobered by the throwing.
Another incident occurred near the middle of the afternoon. From somecause or other, the hind leg of a steer, after having been tied up,became loosened. No one noticed this; but when, after severalsuccessive trials, during which Barney McCann exhausted a largevocabulary of profanity, the mule team was unable to move the steer,six of us fastened our lariats to the main rope, and dragged the beefashore with great _eclat_. But when one of the boys dismounted tounloose the hobbles and rope, a sight met our eyes that sent asickening sensation through us, for the steer had left one hind leg inthe river, neatly disjointed at the knee. Then we knew why the muleshad failed to move him, having previously supposed his size was thedifficulty, for he was one of the largest steers in the herd. No doubtthe steer's leg had been unjointed in swinging him around, but it hadtaken six extra horses to sever the ligaments and skin, while themerciless quicksands of the Canadian held the limb. A friendly shotended the steer's sufferings, and before we finished our work for theday, a flight of buzzards were circling around in anticipation of thecoming feast.
Another day had been lost, and still the South Canadian defied us. Wedrifted the cattle back to the previous night camp, using the same bedground for our herd. It was then that The Rebel broached the subjectof a crossing at the island which we had examined that morning, andoffered to show it to our foreman by daybreak. We put two extra horseson picket that night, and the next morning, before the sun was half anhour high, the foreman and The Rebel had returned from the island downthe river with word that we were to give the ford a trial, though wecould not cross the wagon there. Accordingly we grazed the herd downthe river and came opposite the island near the middle of theforenoon. As usual, we cut off about one hundred of the lead cattle,the leaders naturally being the heaviest, and started them into thewater. We reached the island and scaled the farther bank without asingle animal losing his footing. We brought up a second bunch ofdouble, and a third of triple the number of the first, and crossedthem with safety, but as yet the Canadian was dallying with us. As wecrossed each successive bunch, the tramping of the cattle increasinglyagitated the sands, and when we had the herd about half over, webogged our first steer on the farther landing. As the water was soshallow that drowning was out of the question, we went back andtrailed in the remainder of the herd, knowing the bogged steer wouldbe there when we were ready for him, The island was about two hundredyards long by twenty wide, lying up and down the river, and in leavingit for the farther bank, we always pushed off at the upper end. Butnow, in trailing the remainder of the cattle over, we attempted toforce them into the water at the lower end, as the footing at thatpoint of this middle ground had not, as yet, been trampled up as hadthe upper end. Everything worked nicely until the rear guard of thelast five or six hundred congested on the island, the outfit beingscattered on both sides of the river as well as in the middle, leavinga scarcity of men at all points. When the final rear guard had reachedthe river the cattle were striking out for the farther shore fromevery quarter of the island at their own sweet will, stopping to drinkand loitering on the farther side, for there was no one to hustle themout.
All were over at last, and we were on the point of congratulatingourselves,--for, although the herd had scattered badly, we had lessthan a dozen bogged cattle, and those near the shore,--when suddenlyup the river over a mile, there began a rapid shooting. Satisfied thatit was by our own men, we separated, and, circling right and left,began to throw the herd together. Some of us rode up the river bankand soon located the trouble. We had not ridden a quarter of a milebefore we passed a number of our herd bogged, these having reenteredthe river for their noonday drink, and on coming up with the men whohad done the shooting, we found them throwing the herd out from thewater. They reported that a large number of cattle were bogged fartherup the river.
All hands rounded in the herd, and drifting them out nearly a milefrom the river, left them under two herders, when the remainder of usreturned to the bogged cattle. There were by actual count, includingthose down at the crossing, over eighty bogged cattle that requiredour attention, extending over a space of a mile or more above theisland ford.
The outlook was anything but pleasing. Flood was almost speechlessover the situation, for it might have been guarded against. Butrealizing the task before us, we recrossed the river for dinner, wellknowing the inner man needed fortifying for the work before us. Nosooner had we disposed of the meal and secured a change of mounts allround, than we sent two men to relieve the men on herd. When they wereoff, Flood divided up our forces for the afternoon work.
"It will never do," said he, "to get separated from our commissary.So, Priest
, you take the wagon and _remuda_ and go back up to theregular crossing and get our wagon over somehow. There will be thecook and wrangler besides yourself, and you may have two other men.You will have to lighten your load; and don't attempt to cross thosemules hitched to the wagon; rely on your saddle horses for getting thewagon over. Forrest, you and Bull, with the two men on herd, take thecattle to the nearest creek and water them well. After watering, driftthem back, so they will be within a mile of these bogged cattle. Thenleave two men with them and return to the river. I'll take theremainder of the outfit and begin at the ford and work up the river.Get the ropes and hobbles, boys, and come on."
John Officer and I were left with The Rebel to get the wagon across,and while waiting for the men on herd to get in, we hooked up themules. Honeyman had the _remuda_ in hand to start the minute ourherders returned, their change of mounts being already tied to thewagon wheels. The need of haste was very imperative, for the rivermight rise without an hour's notice, and a two-foot rise would drownevery hoof in the river as well as cut us off from our wagon. TheSouth Canadian has its source in the Staked Plains and the mountainsof New Mexico, and freshets there would cause a rise here, localconditions never affecting a river of such width. Several of us hadseen these Plains rivers,--when the mountain was sportive and dallyingwith the plain,--under a clear sky and without any warning of fallingweather, rise with a rush of water like a tidal wave or the streamfrom a broken dam. So when our men from herd galloped in, we strippedtheir saddles from tired horses and cinched them to fresh ones, whilethey, that there might be no loss of time, bolted their dinners. Ittook us less than an hour to reach the ford, where we unloaded thewagon of everything but the chuck-box, which was ironed fast. We hadan extra saddle in the wagon, and McCann was mounted on a good horse,for he could ride as well as cook. Priest and I rode the river,selecting a route; and on our return, all five of us tied our lariatsto the tongue and sides of the wagon. We took a running start, anduntil we struck the farther bank we gave the wagon no time to sink,but pulled it out of the river with a shout, our horses' flanksheaving. Then recrossing the river, we lashed all the bedding to fourgentle saddle horses and led them over. But to get our provisionsacross was no easy matter, for we were heavily loaded, having taken ona supply at Doan's sufficient to last us until we reached Dodge, agood month's journey. Yet over it must go, and we kept a string ofhorsemen crossing and recrossing for an hour, carrying everything frompots and pans to axle grease, as well as the staples of life. When wehad got the contents of the wagon finally over and reloaded, thereremained nothing but crossing the saddle stock.
The wagon mules had been turned loose, harnessed, while we werecrossing the wagon and other effects; and when we drove the _remuda_into the river, one of the wheel mules turned back, and in spite ofevery man, reached the bank again. Part of the boys hurried the othersacross, but McCann and I turned back after our wheeler. We caught himwithout any trouble, but our attempt to lead him across failed. Inspite of all the profanity addressed personally to him, he proved acredit to his sire, and we lost ground in trying to force him into theriver. The boys across the river watched a few minutes, when allrecrossed to our assistance.
"Time's too valuable to monkey with a mule to-day," said Priest, as herode up; "skin off that harness."
It was off at once, and we blindfolded and backed him up to the riverbank; then taking a rope around his forelegs, we threw him, hog-tiedhim, and rolled him into the water. With a rope around his forelegsand through the ring in the bridle bit, we asked no further favors,but snaked him ignominiously over to the farther side and reharnessedhim into the team.
The afternoon was more than half spent when we reached the firstbogged cattle, and by the time the wagon overtook us we had severaltied up and ready for the mule team to give us a lift. The herd hadbeen watered in the mean time and was grazing about in sight of theriver, and as we occasionally drifted a freed animal out to the herd,we saw others being turned in down the river. About an hour beforesunset, Flood rode up to us and reported having cleared the islandford, while a middle outfit under Forrest was working down towards it.During the twilight hours of evening, the wagon and saddle horsesmoved out to the herd and made ready to camp, but we remained untildark, and with but three horses released a number of light cows. Wewere the last outfit to reach the wagon, and as Honeyman had tied upour night horses, there was nothing for us to do but eat and go tobed, to which we required no coaxing, for we all knew that earlymorning would find us once more working with bogged cattle.
The night passed without incident, and the next morning in thedivision of the forces, Priest was again allowed the wagon to do thesnaking out with, but only four men, counting McCann. The remainder ofthe outfit was divided into several gangs, working near enough eachother to lend a hand in case an extra horse was needed on a pull. Thethird animal we struck in the river that morning was the black steerthat had showed fight the day before. Knowing his temper would not beimproved by soaking in the quicksand overnight, we changed ourtactics. While we were tying up the steer's tail and legs, McCannsecreted his team at a safe distance. Then he took a lariat, lashedthe tongue of the wagon to a cottonwood tree, and jacking up a hindwheel, used it as a windlass. When all was ready, we tied the looseend of our cable rope to a spoke, and allowing the rope to coil on thehub, manned the windlass and drew him ashore. When the steer wasfreed, McCann, having no horse at hand, climbed into the wagon, whilethe rest of us sought safety in our saddles, and gave him a wideberth. When he came to his feet he was sullen with rage and refused tomove out of his tracks. Priest rode out and baited him at a distance,and McCann, from his safe position, attempted to give him a scare,when he savagely charged the wagon. McCann reached down, and securinga handful of flour, dashed it into his eyes, which made him back away;and, kneeling, he fell to cutting the sand with his horns. Rising, hecharged the wagon a second time, and catching the wagon sheet with hishorns, tore two slits in it like slashes of a razor. By this time TheRebel ventured a little nearer, and attracted the steer's attention.He started for Priest, who gave the quirt to his horse, and for thefirst quarter mile had a close race. The steer, however, weakened bythe severe treatment he had been subjected to, soon fell to the rear,and gave up the chase and continued on his way to the herd.
After this incident we worked down the river until the outfits met. Wefinished the work before noon, having lost three full days by thequicksands of the Canadian. As we pulled into the trail that afternoonnear the first divide and looked back to take a parting glance at theriver, we saw a dust cloud across the Canadian which we knew must hethe Ellison herd under Nat Straw. Quince Forrest, noticing it at thesame time as I did, rode forward and said to me, "Well, old Nat willget it in the neck this time, if that old girl dallies with him as shedid with us. I don't wish him any bad luck, but I do hope he'll bogenough cattle to keep his hand in practice. It will be just about hisluck, though, to find it settled and solid enough to cross." And thenext morning we saw his signal in the sky about the same distancebehind us, and knew he had forded without any serious trouble.