CHAPTER V
A DRY DRIVE
Our cattle quieted down nicely after this run, and the next few weeksbrought not an incident worth recording. There was no regular trailthrough the lower counties, so we simply kept to the open country.Spring had advanced until the prairies were swarded with grass andflowers, while water, though scarcer, was to be had at least oncedaily. We passed to the west of San Antonio--an outfitting point whichall herds touched in passing northward--and Flood and our cook tookthe wagon and went in for supplies. But the outfit with the herd kepton, now launched on a broad, well-defined trail, in placesseventy-five yards wide, where all local trails blent into the onecommon pathway, known in those days as the Old Western Trail. It isnot in the province of this narrative to deal with the cause or originof this cattle trail, though it marked the passage of many hundredthousand cattle which preceded our Circle Dots, and was destined toafford an outlet to several millions more to follow. The trail properconsisted of many scores of irregular cow paths, united into one broadpassageway, narrowing and widening as conditions permitted, yet everleading northward. After a few years of continued use, it became aswell defined as the course of a river.
Several herds which had started farther up country were ahead of ours,and this we considered an advantage, for wherever one herd could go,it was reasonable that others could follow. Flood knew the trail aswell as any of the other foremen, but there was one thing he had nottaken into consideration: the drouth of the preceding summer. True,there had been local spring showers, sufficient to start the grassnicely, but water in such quantities as we needed was growing dailymore difficult to find. The first week after leaving San Antonio, ourforeman scouted in quest of water a full day in advance of the herd.One evening he returned to us with the news that we were in for a drydrive, for after passing the next chain of lakes it was sixty miles tothe next water, and reports regarding the water supply even aftercrossing this arid stretch were very conflicting.
"While I know every foot of this trail through here," said theforeman, "there's several things that look scaly. There are only fiveherds ahead of us, and the first three went through the old route, butthe last two, after passing Indian Lakes, for some reason or otherturned and went westward. These last herds may be stock cattle,pushing out west to new ranges; but I don't like the outlook. It wouldtake me two days to ride across and back, and by that time we could betwo thirds of the way through. I've made this drive before without adrop of water on the way, and wouldn't dread it now, if there was anycertainty of water at the other end. I reckon there's nothing to dobut tackle her; but isn't this a hell of a country? I've ridden fiftymiles to-day and never saw a soul."
The Indian Lakes, some seven in number, were natural reservoirs withrocky bottoms, and about a mile apart. We watered at ten o'clock thenext day, and by night camped fifteen miles on our way. There wasplenty of good grazing for the cattle and horses, and no trouble wasexperienced the first night. McCann had filled an extra twenty gallonkeg for this trip. Water was too precious an article to be lavishwith, so we shook the dust from our clothing and went unwashed. Thiswas no serious deprivation, and no one could be critical of another,for we were all equally dusty and dirty.
The next morning by daybreak the cattle were thrown off the bed groundand started grazing before the sun could dry out what little moisturethe grass had absorbed during the night. The heat of the past week hadbeen very oppressive, and in order to avoid it as much as possible, wemade late and early drives. Before the wagon passed the herd duringthe morning drive, what few canteens we had were filled with water forthe men. The _remuda_ was kept with the herd, and four changes ofmounts were made during the day, in order not to exhaust any onehorse. Several times for an hour or more, the herd was allowed to liedown and rest; but by the middle of the afternoon thirst made themimpatient and restless, and the point men were compelled to ridesteadily in the lead in order to hold the cattle to a walk. A numberof times during the afternoon we attempted to graze them, but notuntil the twilight of evening was it possible.
After the fourth change of horses was made, Honeyman pushed on aheadwith the saddle stock and overtook the wagon. Under Flood's orders hewas to tie up all the night horses, for if the cattle could be inducedto graze, we would not bed them down before ten that night, and allhands would be required with the herd. McCann had instructions to makecamp on the divide, which was known to be twenty-five miles from ourcamp of the night before, or forty miles from the Indian Lakes. As weexpected, the cattle grazed willingly after nightfall, and with a fairmoon, we allowed them to scatter freely while grazing forward. Thebeacon of McCann's fire on the divide was in sight over an hour beforethe herd grazed up to camp, all hands remaining to bed the thirstycattle. The herd was given triple the amount of space usually requiredfor bedding, and even then for nearly an hour scarcely half of themlay down.
We were handling the cattle as humanely as possible under thecircumstances. The guards for the night were doubled, six men on thefirst half and the same on the latter, Bob Blades being detailed toassist Honeyman in night-herding the saddle horses. If any of us gotmore than an hour's sleep that night, he was lucky. Flood, McCann, andthe horse wranglers did not even try to rest. To those of us who couldfind time to eat, our cook kept open house. Our foreman knew that awell-fed man can stand an incredible amount of hardship, andappreciated the fact that on the trail a good cook is a valuableasset. Our outfit therefore was cheerful to a man, and jokes and songshelped to while away the weary hours of the night.
The second guard, under Flood, pushed the cattle off their beds anhour before dawn, and before they were relieved had urged the herdmore than five miles on the third day's drive over this waterlessmesa. In spite of our economy of water, after breakfast on this thirdmorning there was scarcely enough left to fill the canteens for theday. In view of this, we could promise ourselves no middaymeal--except a can of tomatoes to the man; so the wagon was ordered todrive through to the expected water ahead, while the saddle horseswere held available as on the day before for frequent changing ofmounts. The day turned out to be one of torrid heat, and before themiddle of the forenoon, the cattle lolled their tongues in despair,while their sullen lowing surged through from rear to lead and backagain in piteous yet ominous appeal. The only relief we could offerwas to travel them slowly, as they spurned every opportunity offeredthem either to graze or to lie down.
It was nearly noon when we reached the last divide, and sighted thescattering timber of the expected watercourse. The enforced order ofthe day before--to hold the herd in a walk and prevent exertion andheating--now required four men in the lead, while the rear followedover a mile behind, dogged and sullen. Near the middle of theafternoon, McCann returned on one of his mules with the word that itwas a question if there was water enough to water even the horsestock. The preceding outfit, so he reported, had dug a shallow well inthe bed of the creek, from which he had filled his kegs, but the stockwater was a mere loblolly. On receipt of this news, we changed mountsfor the fifth time that day; and Flood, taking Forrest, the cook, andthe horse wrangler, pushed on ahead with the _remuda_ to the waterlessstream.
The outlook was anything but encouraging. Flood and Forrest scoutedthe creek up and down for ten miles in a fruitless search for water.The outfit held the herd back until the twilight of evening, whenFlood returned and confirmed McCann's report. It was twenty miles yetto the next water ahead, and if the horse stock could only be wateredthoroughly, Flood was determined to make the attempt to nurse the herdthrough to water. McCann was digging an extra well, and he expressedthe belief that by hollowing out a number of holes, enough water couldbe secured for the saddle stock. Honeyman had corralled the horses andwas letting only a few go to the water at a time, while the nighthorses were being thoroughly watered as fast as the water rose in thewell.
Holding the herd this third night required all hands. Only a few menat a time were allowed to go into camp and eat, for the herd refusedeven to lie down. What few cattle attempted to
rest were prevented bythe more restless ones. By spells they would mill, until riders weresent through the herd at a break-neck pace to break up the groups.During these milling efforts of the herd, we drifted over a mile fromcamp; but by the light of moon and stars and the number of riders,scattering was prevented. As the horses were loose for the night, wecould not start them on the trail until daybreak gave us a change ofmounts, so we lost the early start of the morning before.
Good cloudy weather would have saved us, but in its stead was a sultrymorning without a breath of air, which bespoke another day of sizzlingheat. We had not been on the trail over two hours before the heatbecame almost unbearable to man and beast. Had it not been for thecondition of the herd, all might yet have gone well; but over threedays had now elapsed without water for the cattle, and they becamefeverish and ungovernable. The lead cattle turned back several times,wandering aimlessly in any direction, and it was with considerabledifficulty that the herd could be held on the trail. The rear overtookthe lead, and the cattle gradually lost all semblance of a trail herd.Our horses were fresh, however, and after about two hours' work, weonce more got the herd strung out in trailing fashion; but before amile had been covered, the leaders again turned, and the cattlecongregated into a mass of unmanageable animals, milling and lowing intheir fever and thirst. The milling only intensified their sufferingsfrom the heat, and the outfit split and quartered them again andagain, in the hope that this unfortunate outbreak might be checked. Nosooner was the milling stopped than they would surge hither and yon,sometimes half a mile, as ungovernable as the waves of an ocean. Afterwasting several hours in this manner, they finally turned back overthe trail, and the utmost efforts of every man in the outfit failed tocheck them. We threw our ropes in their faces, and when this failed,we resorted to shooting; but in defiance of the fusillade and thesmoke they walked sullenly through the line of horsemen across theirfront. Six-shooters were discharged so close to the leaders' faces asto singe their hair, yet, under a noonday sun, they disregarded thisand every other device to turn them, and passed wholly out of ourcontrol. In a number of instances wild steers deliberately walkedagainst our horses, and then for the first time a fact dawned on usthat chilled the marrow in our bones,--_the herd was going blind_.
The bones of men and animals that lie bleaching along the trailsabundantly testify that this was not the first instance in which theplain had baffled the determination of man. It was now evident thatnothing short of water would stop the herd, and we rode aside and letthem pass. As the outfit turned back to the wagon, our foreman seemeddazed by the sudden and unexpected turn of affairs, but rallied andmet the emergency.
"There's but one thing left to do," said he, as we rode along, "andthat is to hurry the outfit back to Indian Lakes. The herd will travelday and night, and instinct can be depended on to carry them to theonly water they know. It's too late to be of any use now, but it'splain why those last two herds turned off at the lakes; some one hadgone back and warned them of the very thing we've met. We must beatthem to the lakes, for water is the only thing that will check themnow. It's a good thing that they are strong, and five or six dayswithout water will hardly kill any. It was no vague statement of theman who said if he owned hell and Texas, he'd rent Texas and live inhell, for if this isn't Billy hell, I'd like to know what you callit."
We spent an hour watering the horses from the wells of our camp of thenight before, and about two o'clock started back over the trail forIndian Lakes. We overtook the abandoned herd during the afternoon.They were strung out nearly five miles in length, and were walkingabout a three-mile gait. Four men were given two extra horses apieceand left to throw in the stragglers in the rear, with instructions tofollow them well into the night, and again in the morning as long astheir canteens lasted. The remainder of the outfit pushed on without ahalt, except to change mounts, and reached the lakes shortly aftermidnight. There we secured the first good sleep of any consequence forthree days.
It was fortunate for us that there were no range cattle at theselakes, and we had only to cover a front of about six miles to catchthe drifting herd. It was nearly noon the next day before the cattlebegan to arrive at the water holes in squads of from twenty to fifty.Pitiful objects as they were, it was a novelty to see them reach thewater and slack their thirst. Wading out into the lakes until theirsides were half covered, they would stand and low in a soft moaningvoice, often for half an hour before attempting to drink. Contrary toour expectation, they drank very little at first, but stood in thewater for hours. After coming out, they would lie down and rest forhours longer, and then drink again before attempting to graze, theirthirst overpowering hunger. That they were blind there was noquestion, but with the causes that produced it once removed, it wasprobable their eyesight would gradually return.
By early evening, the rear guard of our outfit returned and reportedthe tail end of the herd some twenty miles behind when they left them.During the day not over a thousand head reached the lakes, and towardsevening we put these under herd and easily held them during the night.All four of the men who constituted the rear guard were sent back thenext morning to prod up the rear again, and during the night at leasta thousand more came into the lakes, which held them better than ahundred men. With the recovery of the cattle our hopes grew, and withthe gradual accessions to the herd, confidence was again completelyrestored. Our saddle stock, not having suffered as had the cattle,were in a serviceable condition, and while a few men were all thatwere necessary to hold the herd, the others scoured the country formiles in search of any possible stragglers which might have missed thewater.
During the forenoon of the third day at the lakes, Nat Straw, theforeman of Ellison's first herd on the trail, rode up to our camp. Hewas scouting for water for his herd, and, when our situation wasexplained and he had been interrogated regarding loose cattle, gave usthe good news that no stragglers in our road brand had been met bytheir outfit. This was welcome news, for we had made no count yet, andfeared some of them, in their locoed condition, might have passed thewater during the night. Our misfortune was an ill wind by which Strawprofited, for he had fully expected to keep on by the old route, butwith our disaster staring him in the face, a similar experience was tobe avoided. His herd reached the lakes during the middle of theafternoon, and after watering, turned and went westward over the newroute taken by the two herds which preceded us. He had a herd of aboutthree thousand steers, and was driving to the Dodge market. After theexperience we had just gone through, his herd and outfit were awelcome sight. Flood made inquiries after Lovell's second herd, undermy brother Bob as foreman, but Straw had seen or heard nothing ofthem, having come from Goliad County with his cattle.
After the Ellison herd had passed on and out of sight, our squad whichhad been working the country to the northward, over the route by whichthe abandoned herd had returned, came in with the information thatthat section was clear of cattle, and that they had only found threehead dead from thirst. On the fourth morning, as the herd left the bedground, a count was ordered, and to our surprise we counted outtwenty-six head more than we had received on the banks of the RioGrande a month before. As there had been but one previous occasion tocount, the number of strays absorbed into our herd was easilyaccounted for by Priest: "If a steer herd could increase on the trail,why shouldn't ours, that had over a thousand cows in it?" Theobservation was hardly borne out when the ages of our herd were takeninto consideration. But 1882 in Texas was a liberal day andgeneration, and "cattle stealing" was too drastic a term to use forthe chance gain of a few cattle, when the foundations of princelyfortunes were being laid with a rope and a branding iron.
In order to give the Ellison herd a good start of us, we only movedour wagon to the farthest lake and went into camp for the day. Theherd had recovered its normal condition by this time, and of thetroubles of the past week not a trace remained. Instead, our herdgrazed in leisurely content over a thousand acres, while with theexception of a few men on herd, the outfit lounged around the wagonan
d beguiled the time with cards.
We had undergone an experience which my bunkie, The Rebel, termed "aninteresting incident in his checkered career," but which not even hewould have cared to repeat. That night while on night herdtogether--the cattle resting in all contentment--we rode one roundtogether, and as he rolled a cigarette he gave me an old war story:--
"They used to tell the story in the army, that during one of thewinter retreats, a cavalryman, riding along in the wake of the columnat night, saw a hat apparently floating in the mud and water. In thehope that it might be a better hat than the one he was wearing, hedismounted to get it. Feeling his way carefully through the ooze untilhe reached the hat, he was surprised to find a man underneath andwearing it. 'Hello, comrade,' he sang out, 'can I lend you a hand?'
"'No, no,' replied the fellow, 'I'm all right; I've got a good muleyet under me.'"