Daily globe. [volume] (St. Paul, Minn.) 1878-1884, 1879-12-28

learned afterward that he went to
Las Animas, and after time got job
digging holes for telegraph-posts, along
the new railway, not very far from that
place.
They had way of digging these
holes that may be new to one. Instead
OF putting an, Irishman to work with @
spade, they sent one man along with
an iron crow, to punch holes in the
ground three feet and half deep, at
the places where the poles were to be
set.
Behind the man with the crowbar
came a second man with bucketful of
dynamite cartridges. On coming to a
bar-hole, he lighted the fuse of cart
ridge, dropped it to the bottom of the
hole-and moved on.
Presently there came an explosion,
which blew out the earth all about the
hole, leaving pit as big as q flour bar
rel. The men with the posts had now
only to heel them in and fill in the dirt.
Two men with those cartridges could
sink $50 holes in a day, whereas two
men with spades could not dig more
than fifty holes.
zofe had the job of carrying and
lighting the cartridges, at $40 month.
It was rather dangerous business, but
it had this advantage-it was light work
and nobody imposed upon him, or came
fooling around while he was in dis
charge of his duty.
Zofe had rather liked us, and the
next spring, in March, he came along
one day with his old glazed-cloth valise
stuffed full of his togs; the same old
Zofe. That evening, as we sat round
the fire, he inquired for our old friend,
the cayote. Tive got something" said
he, "that'u hist him."
We, of course, wanted to know what
it was.
He said he would tell us in the morn
ing.
The next morning, after breakfast, he
undld his valise, and pulled out ten or
fifteen of these dynamite cartridges.
They were lying loose in the bottom of
the bag, together with specimens of ore.
an old revolver and three or four stubs
Of matches
The foolish, careless fellow had been
carrying those about in that manner for
weeks, on the cars and in stages, and
his old valise had set within six feet of
our open fire all night! That was Zofe.
We had crowbar for setting corral
posts, and Zofe told us to take it and
come on.
We crossed over the creek and went
up to the cayote's hole. This burrow was
much like the first one, having two or
three entrances. Zofe looked it over,
and, choosing point about midway of
the entrances, told Ed to punch q hole.
Ed worked the bar down till at length
it broke through into the burrow and
went down nearly the whole length of it.
"That's just the thing" said Zofe;
"pull it cut"
He struck match, remarking that we
had better go off "a few steps,"
We were already going making good
time, too. He lighted cartridge,
dropped it into the hole, then sauntered
away.
1t did not make as much noise as we
thought it would. There came kind
of heavy bunk in the ground, and the
smoke and dirt few up. But it tore out
pretty large hole, and showed the cay
ote's nest, down in the burrow.
There was a den as large as a bath
tub, half-full of dry grass. We could
discover nothing of the cayote; but we
always supposed the explosion killed the
creature, for we never saw him after
ward.
Zofe said the idea of blowing out cay
otes came to him one day while he was
making telegraph post-holes, and he had
put aside some cartridges to try the ex-
pertinent with.
We blew out ten or dozen holes.
At one, the cartridge blew the cayote
out and sent him heels over head in the
air for fifteen or twenty yards. We
picked him up, quite dead.
At some of the other burrows, the
cayotes would dash out, after the blast,
their hair full of smoke and
dirt, and run for life. Ed generally
popped those with a heavy charge Of
deer shot.
One in particular, I remember, which
seemed to clear space of dozen feet
from the mouth of his hole at the first
jump, as if the cartridge had blown him
out. Then he whirled round to look
and sneeze. At that. Ed shot him.
If any one has cayotes to kill, this is
more merciful way than poisoning
with strychnine. It is almost certain to
do it's work.