The Jackson standard. [volume] (Jackson C.H., Ohio) 1847-1888, 1884-01-31
BIG JACK SMALL.


You do not know Big Jack Small
That is bad omen; because if you
did know Big Jack Small, you would
know many things which, as | think
you do not now know-for Jack
would be sure to talk to you, if you
met him, and in his talk he would be
quite as sure to tell something about
teaming with six or eight or ten yokes
of oxen, and two or three or three OF
four great red wagons, over the hills
across the valleys, and through the
bare rock-walled canyons Of the State
of Nevada.
That is his Observation-Disclosures;
or, as he calls 1t, "bull-puncher." Not
one Of your common farmer boys,
who can drive one yoke, or two or
even four yokes, Of oxen, with a long,
timber fshing-pole stock, and lash
that hangs down like dead garter
snake speared through the eyes; but
regular graduate Of the science of
ox-a bovine persuader-with a bill
liard-cue whip-stock, and a lash on it
like young boa-constrictor, and a
little steel spike in the lash-end of the
stock about as big as a carpet-tack
when it stands on its head on the
point of walking cane. With the
yellow leather lash wound round the
stock, the great square braids shining
like scales, as of the brazen serpent
Moses set up, and the glittering steel
tongue, sparkling in the sunlight out
of the serpent's mouth-with this aw-
full wand in his hand, and elevated di-
agonally above his head, Big Jack
Small will stand in the highway of
the desert, the chief of the o1-magi;
while his meek-eyed and clicking
footed company draw slowly round
him, at the proper distance and with
regular step, straining the great red
creaking wains after them in true
circle "Come row-a-d, boys! You
Turk" sharply to the near-side wheel
OK, because an ox-teamster always
turns on haw-pull unless compelled
to do otherwise "Come row-a-d, boys!
Steady, now-like Freemason fune-
1alw and he elevates or depresses the
glittering tongue of the serpent above
his head. The oxen know what that
means, and the whole long procession
winds about him with mathematical
precision.
That is the way Big Jack Small
does it. He is an artist. Why does
not some brother artist 60 forth and
canvass him? He is worth preserv-
ing, as the picture Of true American
void Of European or classic taint-a
strong American, calm and humorous
in the hardest struggles, through the
very thrill and tickle of abundant life
and pure mountain air. Tall?-no;
he is not so very tall. About six feet,
or half an inch less than that. Head
well set upon his shoulders with an
inclination to one side, as if to give
room for the big whip on the other
shoulder; while his soft slouched hat
inclines just in the opposite direction,
as if to equalize things and maintain
a perpendicular outline. No coat on
Woolen shirt-in winter three of
them, one inside the other; heavy vest
buttoned to the chin, or to somewhere
hidden under the long flow Of the lion
colored beard. Legs clad externally
in thick white ducking or buckskin,
terminating in coarse boots drawn
over the trousers bottoms Hands
cased in rough buckskin gloves. So
dressed, Big Jack Small may not be a
very large man, but he looks large
When he walks from you, you are i'm
pressed with broadness of shoulders
and strength of neck and loin. When
he walks toward you, you are made
conscious Of the coming of great thigh
muscles, and fists, and lion-like
front; and you would not have any
rash impulse to rush upon him for
the fun Of little combat. Then he
has curious long springing stride-a
sort Of dropping and rising upon his
thigh muscles with every step-that
suggests power; though | suppose it
is mere force Of habit, caught in walk
ing across plowed ground in early life
and maintained by striding over the
sage brush and loose rocks in Nevada.
Big Jack Small has a head under
his slouched hat, and face that shows
between his hat brim and his beard.
If you are not in the habit Of looking
at heads or faces for the purpose
of forming your own estimate of men
it would not be worth while to look at
Jack. You might as we'll pass on.
He is Of no interest to you. But if
you want to look into a face where
the good-natured shrewdness of Abra-
ham Lincoln shines out, smoothed of
it's rough-carved homeliness, you can
accost Jack when you meet him walk
ing beside his winding train down
the rough canyon OF across the dusty
valley, and ask him how the road is
over which he came This interroga-
ton requiring some length of answer,
he will shout, ''Whoa-ooa-ah,
ba-a-ack!" then drawing down the