The Sedalia weekly bazoo. [volume] (Sedalia, Mo.) 187?-1904, 1885-01-27
OUR DAIRY COMPANY.
What We Did With the Cow; or,
Rather, What the Cow Did
to UsI

Jerusalem Valley, about twenty
miles long and FIVE miles in width al
its lower end, lies between two outly.
ing spurs of the Sierra La Sal. Near
the upper end of it, where the con-
cave of lofty bluffs walls it round, our
little party had made q permanent
camp, intending to remain for several
weeks, since the locality furnished in
abundance those four requisites of a
campiDg-out excursion, namely, grass
for the horses, game, wood and good
water.
Three miles below us a party OF
cowboys were liz quarters at "dug-
out" and another squad of the same
''out6t" had their camp at the lower
end of the valley while between them
ranged their cattle, some thousands in
number.
We had been living ON a purely
venison diet so long that it had quite
lost its relish, and had become dis
tasteful, in fact; such at least was the
condition of the writer's palate. So
one morning, after we were fairly set
tied here, [ determined to ride down
to the camp of the cattle meu, and see
whether they could be induced to cell
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 upto the door
Of the dug-out, | shouted:
'sHullo!"
"HulIo 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 fnest-looking men / ever saw. He
was six feet and four inches in stature,
powerfully built, with frank, manly
face and clear blue eye. This was
William Little. or "Little Billy" as
he was sportively called, "boss of the
outfit and part owner of the cattle.
"Mornin', stranger" he said cheer
lily, as be came into the light.
"Good-morningl" I replied. 81
rode over to see if you could sell us
some beef"
"Sell you some beef? No, sir! you
can't buy no beef of this outfit"
The reply took me absck; but
though the refusal seemed abrupt and
ungrscious, Yet the tone In which it
was delivered was 90 hearty that /
ventured to ask:
"Why not"
"Well, we amt in the habit of
sellin' beef to strangers. Thar's a
two-year-old hangin' uptown thar at
the corral. Cut off what you want
an take it along, but don't never offer
to pay q cow-man' for beefi"
"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 a month or
"DOn't care if you stay six
months"
"And we'd like to make regular ar
rangements"-
Irregular fiddIesticks I" Here, you
wait a minute" and striding off to-
wards the corral, he returned with a
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 eritter hangin'
up; an if We amt herejust help your
self"
There was no resisting his blxnt
kindness, 80 rode off with the beef,
but, to be even with him, came back
the next day with a deer / had
shot.
'Thankee !" said he, as / tumbled
it from the saddle. "Ven'zun's nifty
good estin', and we don't git much of
q chance to hunt. Eff you kin spare a
little of that now and then, I'd like to
buy some from you"
"WeIl. we amt in the habit of
sellin' venison to strangers. When
that's gone, come and git some more.
We allus keep a critter hangin' up,
and eff we amt there, just help your
self. But don't offer to pay hunter
for deer meat"
He laughed as quoted his own
words of the day before, and from that
moment we were friends.
"Little." said I, one day, as we
were riding together, 81 wonder that,
with ali the cows you fellows have,
you don't corral them, and have fresh
milk and cream for your coffee"
eeToo much trouble. Coffee