The Manitowoc pilot. [volume] (Manitowoc, Wis.) 1859-1932, 1889-06-13
HIS CASE OF TOOTHAcHE.
Leaving Colorado Cattle Camp to Face
Dentist i'm Denver.

| Charlie" MetcaIf is an old-time
| cowboy. CGe would not know it now
to look at him, for he kicked off his
spurs and discarded his sombrero
years ago. He fell to talking with
| friend the other day about the tooth
| ache, and he told the story of the first
and only case of toothache he ever had
The winter" he said, was not less
severe than that of the year before.
and when June of 1882 finally came
around we were a sorry looking lot
Every herder had begun the season
| with five broncos. Broncos are tough,
but that winter settled them, and it
would have settled us too if we hadn't
had plenty of blankets. l never saw
anything like the way it rained that
spring. Our clothes, tents, and blank
cts got so soaked that for weeks we
had not had dry rag on u.s. / began
to get pretty sick of being a cowboy,
| and what made my complaint worse
was the fact that the girl to whom l
was engaged was visiting relatives in
Denver. | had not seen her for three
years, and, although my employer had
promised me a week off when good
weather came, there seemed to be no
chance Of getting to Denver for long
time, for we were in a terrible fix. Our
temporary camp was at the old battle
ground, on Big Sandy creek. where
the Indian massacre (massa-cree'
every one calls it there) was COM
mitted in 1866 by the First Colorado
cavalry under Col Chivington. 1t was
about all we could do to hang on to
the ground to keep from slipping down
the side of the gully. The cattle were
stampeding every day, and we had to
work all the time. To make matters
worse, there weren't half enough
broncos to 60 around and we had to be
on our feet a good deal of the time-a
hard trial for a cowboy.
81 made up my mind to 90 to Den
yer and l began to cudgel my brains
to find some good excuse for deserting
my 'outiit.' l hit upon the toothache,
and for three days suffered untold
agony when any of the men were
around. | professed to be unable to
eat and the men began to feel alarmed
about me. At the end of three DAYS
l began to weaken. | could not starve
to death and | thought that | must
give up the toothachc. | finally de-
cided to take Whisky Hank the cook,
into my confidence, and | made a
clean breast of the whole thing to him.
After that he brought me my meals
when the men were all off punching
the cattle, which every day were be-
coming wilder than buffaloes. | kept
this up for week, when the head man
came to me and said: See here,
colonel, you go to Denver and have
that tooth out | protested that it
would not be right for me to desert the |
camp at such time, but he insisted, |
and finally started.
My employer was at River Bend,
the home ranch near the Kansas /
racine, anu staI Lcu oun, |
the nearest railway station, twenty
miles away, in great glee. l had not been |
in town, big or little, for over a year,
and when | struck Denver the place
was not big enough to hold me. | got
there in the morning and went straight
to the st. James hotel. After feasting
at breakfast | lighted cigar and
stood on the front steps awhile, just
TO see what civilized people looked
like. was just going down to the
street to hurry around to Herman ave-
nue., on Capitol hill, when came face
" AlSC WIN III L VI oil III
slant | wished that | was back at the
old battle-ground. chasing cattle over
the slippery ground. whipped out
my handkerchief and clapped it up to
my cheek.
oothache-terrible, Imurmured.
"Toothache, eh?" he said, looking at
me keenly. Come with me and have
it out
Il hadn't the courage to say word,
and followed him meekly around to
the office Of dentist. l sat down in
the chair in state of utter collapse,
pointed out back tooth and groaned
pull it. Tue dentist had hard work
to get that tooth out. for it was one of
the best teeth that a man ever had.
had to pay $2 for the operation, too.
and when the tooth was out and the
dentist had soothed my wounded jaw
my employer took me down to the
station and saw me off on the next
train for Kit Carson, bound for the
camp. never dared to tell any of the
boys how | got beaten at my game.
Even the cook never learned the
truth. ."-Ne1U York. Tribune.