Huntsville gazette., 1885-01-31
OUR DAIRY COMPANY.
What We Did With the Cow; or,
Rather, What the Cow
Did to Us.


Jerusalem Valley, about twenty miles
long and five miles in width at its lower
end, lies between two outlying spurs of
the Sierra La Sal. Near the upper end
of it, where the concave of lofty bluffs
walls itround, our little party had made
a permanent camp, intending to re-
main for several weeks, since the
locality furnished in abundance those
four requisites of camping-out excur-
sion, namely, grass for the horses,
game, wood and good water.
Three miles below US party of cow
boys were in quarters at ''dugout," !"
and another squad of the same 'out-
1it' had their camp at the lower end of
the valley; while between them ranged
their cattle, some thousands in num-
ber
We had been living on purely veni-
son diet SO long that it had quite lost
its relish, and had become distasteful,
in fact; such at least was the condition
of the writer's palate. SO one morn
ing, after we were fairly settled here, l
determined to ride down to the camp
of the cattle men, and see whether
they could be induced to sell us bit
of fresh beef. Their dug-out was in
the side of the bluff, and few yards
away were the corrals and branding
pens. Riding up to the door Of the
dug out, 1 shouted:
'.Hullor'
"Hullo YOURSELF" came promptly
from the interior; and Immediately the
doorway was filled by STOPPING figure.
which, as it Strengthened itself to its
full height, proved to be one of the
1inest-looking men ever saw. He was
six feet and four inches in stature,
powerfully built, with a frank, manly
face and clear blue eye. This was
William Little, or Little Billy" as he
was sportively called, ''boss of the out
fit" and part owner of the cattle.
"Mornin', stranger.'' he said cheer
lily, as he came into the light.
"Good-morning!' replied. 81 rode
over to see if you could sell us some
beef"
'ScH you some beef? No, sir! you
can't buy no beef of this outfit
The reply took me aback; but though
the refusal seemed abrupt and ungra-
cious, yet the tone in which it was de-
livered was so hearty that ventured
to ask:
"Why not?''
"Well, we amt in the habit of sellip'
beef to strangers. Thar's two-year-
old hangin' up down thar at the cor
raj. Cut off what you want an take
it along, but don't never offer to pay
'cow-man' for beef!''
"But would much rather pay you
for it. There are half-a-dozen of us at
the camp up there''-
Don't care if there's two dozen of
you.'
"And We'll be here month OF
''Don't care if you stay six months"
''And we'd like to make regular ar
rangements"-
Regular fiddlesticks! Here, you
wait a minute,' and striding off to-
wards the corral, he returned with
quarter OF tender young beef on his
shoulder.
''There, tie that onto your horse. an
when it's gone come an git some
more. We allus keep a critter hangin'
up; an if we amt here just help your
self"
There was no resisting his blunt
kindness, SO l rode off with the beef,
but, to be even with him, came back
the next day with deer had shot
''Thankeer said he, as / tumbled it
from the saddle s'Ven'zun's mitv
good eatin', and we don't git much of
a chance to hunt. Eff you Kin spare a
little of that now and then, I'd like to
buy some from you"
'.Well, we amt in the habit of sellin'
venison to strangers. When that's
gone, come and git some more. We
allus keep critter hangin' up, and eff
we amt there, just help yourself. But
don't offer to pay a hunter for deer
meat"
He laughed as I quoted his own
words OF the day before, and from that
moment we were friends.
Little" said /, one day, as we were
riding together, II wonder that, with
all the cows you fellows have, YOU
don't corral them, and have fresh milk
and cream for your Coffee
''Too much trouble. Coffee straight's
good enough for me. But you fellows
are welcome to it if you want it. Milk
the whole racadG if you wanter, 1
don't keer"
At camp that night mentioned the
matter to the boys, and It struck them