The Jeffersonian. [volume] (Stroudsburg, Pa.) 1853-1911, 1876-05-25
A TERRIBLE SCALP RAISER.

Y.
1t was in Il saloon in Chicago. He was
gaunt young man, whose face hadn't
been washed for two months, and who
wore his hair long behind. He was attired
In slouch hat, buckskin breeches, a red
flannel shirt open at the neck, and a rough
coat. He had four revolvers and a bio
knife in his belt. When four dry goods
clerks came in group and ordered some
beer, the first dry goods clerk said to the
barkeeper
Say, John, who's that fellow over
yonder ?'
"That," said the saloon keeper, dropping
Ills voice to an awestruck whisper, chat is
Bufler Ben, the Wild Trapper of the
Great Plains. Ask him to drink. Per
haps he will"
The first dry goods clerk did so, and
the Wild Trapper replied
"Wall, stranger, seein as its YOU [ will
just take some fire water. As | heerd
Old Red Tail say to Spotted Cloud, It's a
mighty long time between drinks Here's
to us, and he ingulfed dose of whisky.
''1ou are" said the first dry goods clerk,
connected with the trapper business ?''
In the scalp aud grizzly line, said the
second dry goods clerk
"Your "reminiscences of personal
character, | doubt not, would be exciting
and interesting" said the third dry goods
clerk.
Truth is stranger than fiction. Take
something ~ said the fourth dry goods
clerk.
"Wall, no, said the trapper ''I never
drink when I'm off the war trail 1t kinder
makes me ugly, yer see, and I'm apt to
dror my cutlery. | killed seven men that
[ was talking to as friendly as L mout be
to you, but l sorter got riled wall, gimme
some more whisky
''Your hand, said one of the dry goods
clerks, ''has often been stained with human
blood 2"
Stranger, she hcv The fust time you
come up and see me at my wickiup in.
Montana-second lodge on the right
beyond the Yellowstone river, and be sure
you turn to the left up by the big powders
three hundred miles this side-ask any
Injin, and tell him yer want to see Buff ler
Ben, and cf he don't scalp yer he'll show
yer the road plum straight. I'll show yer
Old Bulls Eye, my rifle. She's old Kahn
tuck stock (likewise the barrel) and is six
teen feet long, and whenever [ wipe out a
white man | make notch on the barrel,
and there's notches all the way up one side
and nine feet down the other | went up
to see your graveyards at Cavalry and
Greeceland. They're good deal like my
private graveyards, more posies and statues,
and so on, though they amt SO spacious.
Now, jist about three months ago turned
loose III a barroom down to LAFAYETTE,
Arkansaw, and the coroner was kept busy
for three days after attending to seven in
quests. And this was just because a durn
skunk stood up at the bar and improved
his mind with my conversation, and never
asked me if | would take
Herr one of the dry goods clerks caught
Buf'ler Ben's eye, and he stammered out
an invitation to FIJI her up again. Mr..
Buff Ter Ben irrigated himself, and in reply
to question concerning his solution of the
Indian question, said
''Injins Wall, no I never keep count
of the reds [ wipe out. | used to when l
was young and sort Of vain, but grew
out'n it. 1t looked too much like vanity
/ suppose I've not taken the trouble to lift
the har of the last $50 or 200 Indians I've
killed Before that [ was kinder particular
that way, and took so many scalps that |
bust the Frisco chignon market, and seven
teen dealers in false hair went into bank
ruptcy. Injins is poor trash. Gimme
whole tribe of 'em, and I'll wipe 'em out as
fast as | can load my revolver and put it
to my shoulder
Here he paused again and was promptly
refreshed Then he continued
II tell you, boys, if you want to see the
choicest country on the footstool, jest you
90 to them ar Black Hills The only thing
agin the country is the buffaloes. They
hatch there, and when they take to flight
it's awful to see them in clouds so thick
you can't see the sun, and when they light
they chaw on garden sass, and sour apple
trees, and corn, railroad ties, and potatoes,
and telegraph poles. But theirs gold in
the Black Hills. I've seen it myself. When
you get down to the bedrock you strike
$50 and $40 pieces, and you wash out
eagles and dollars in the streams, and up
in the roots of the grass you find small
scrip and nickels. No nuggets as | know
on, though | did hear at Shyan Of one
worth S165, 600"
Thus, with anecdote and information,
Buff'ler Ben whiled away the time. When
the four dry goods clerks had settled for
the drinks, their bill amounting to S6.85,
he babe them an affectionate farewell, and
made them promise to call at his tepee if
ever they were up in Montana. When they
had gone out, the barkeeper paid him his
twenty per cent. commission on the drinks
sold through his instrumentality, and told