Iron County register. [volume] (Ironton, Iron County, Mo.) 1867-1965, 1880-03-11
On the Cattle Trail from Texas.

ing from Texas to Kansas, Indian at
tacks and fights were frequent, and the
journey was one of military precaution
and constant hazard; but in recent
years, the drover told us, such events
have been exceptional; the only regu-
lar annoyance from Indians now is their
exaction of toll for the passage of cattle
through the Territory; and outside of
their reservations, one is rarely seen any
more, unless it may be a dead one left
on the trail by some scouting party from
an adjacent fort" but I'd rather see
one dead Injun than dozen live ones,
any day." he remarked. They have
learned by experience to avoid the cat
tie men" knowing we're always ready
for 'em," the drover explained-andt to
make their raids, instead, upon the
scattered and unprotected settlers along
the Kansas border; and thus the trip
that was once so exciting and thick with
adventure has come to be an unspeaka-
bly, cherries and tiresome thing, with
only a chance buffalo chase Qor the
buffalo, too, is now seldom met with) or
a race after jack-rabbits to relieve its
prolonged monotony. About the first
of April is the time the herds are started
from Red River northward, and the aim
is to reach the Kansas cattle towns
distant some eight hundred miles-in
the latter part of June, the route
leading over the long, bleak "Chis-
holm TRAIL" which goes winding and
twisting this way and that, to suit the
erratic bearings of the water-cour ses
and strike conveniences for camping.
Two herders to hundred head of cat
tie is the rule-the herd often embraces
five or six thousand head-and each
herder has two horses, and is paid thirty
to forty dollars a month, or twice that,
if he owns his horses; boss and a
cook added to these, with wagons or
pack-mules to CARRY provisions, and
an abundant supply of firearms, sad
dies, lariats, blankets, and short-handled
whips, end in some cases few dog
tents, make up the "outft," as it is
termed. The herd is driven leisurely
until noon, when there is short stop
for dinner; then the rate of travel is
gradually increased, and kept up with
out rest or slackening, until the camp
ing-place is arrived at and halt made
for the night; there the cattle are
huddled together, or grounded up'' in
as small compass as possible, called
the background" and the herders
stand guard over them, by stated turns,
like pickets, until morning comes and
the fantastic expedition moves forward
again-though sometimes thunder
storm or other unexpected noise brings
on " Stampede" and enlivens these
prosaic night-watches Ito the secret
delight of the drowsy guards, we may
guess) with swift gallop into the
grassy darkness after the terrified and
fleeing cattle.
And so, day after day, rthe slow, dull
drive continues, each day so like every
other that soon all reckoning of its place
in the week is lost, each passing scene
so much a mere bald repetition that the
whole outlook in short time becomes
simply one vast, featureless, confusing
like the ocean. Indeed, be-
ing adrift on these great, vague and
prairies is very similar to
being out at sea. The drover of whom
[ have spoken told us that he never made
The journey without continual tortur-
ng heartache and sense of exile; and it
IS not improbable that the most igno-
rant and Indifferent of the herders-
perhaps even the worn and bewildered
cattle, also-catch hint of this feeling,
could they formulate it in speech. AL
ways, after few days of the march,
and fair start into what may be called
The sorcery of the intervening desert, a
habit of silence and reverie and depres-
sion comes upon tho entire outfit, save
only the unaccountable little cow-birds
the Mother Carey's chickens of
his singular argosy-that flutter
,heerily and constantly round the herd
he whole way from Red River to New
Sharon. The songs and jokes die out,
he story-tellers cease to spin their
coarse and knotted yarns, card-playing
,y the campfire is voted bore, daily
dwindles to monosyllables.
Every man draws himself into his
HELL" as the drover expressed it; and
here he remains, taciturn and brood
ng, unmindful of his companions and
'areless of himself, until some lucky
a strange dogs bark, the
row of an early-rising rooster, or bit
# breakfast smoke from homestead
RS dug-out, rouses him from his
lream, and with a thrill as of escape
rom long and nameless peril, he comes
ack to the world-alert, expectant,
otential.-Henry King, in ScriIner's
or March.
Journalism on Wheels.