The Colfax chronicle. [volume] (Colfax, Grant Parish, La.) 1877-1981, 1895-03-09
A RACE FOR A CLAIM.
How a Bright Wheelman Beat Old
Man Turpit.

A trunk full of books and bicycle
made rather qncer outfit to start a
farm with, but they were all / had
when l settled in the Jim River
valley. OF course did not buy them
for that purpose, but l happened to
have them, and rot much else, when
left school and went west for my
health
That country was just beginning to
attract settlers then, and liking the
looks of the level prairics clad in a
mat of "blue-joint" as tall as a mans
head, lost no time in filing a pre-
emption on the best quarter section
could find. ! had my pick for miles
up and down the river when filed in
August, but before winter settlers
came in with rush and sod shanties
and dugouts dotted the prairie in all
directions Still there was plenty Of
land, and nearly every settler filed his
presumption on one quarter while he
reserved another one hundred and
sixty acres adjoining to be taken as a
homestead after he had lived on his
presumption the six months required
by law before he could prove up"
which was necessary before fling q
homestead.
1t was too late in the season for
breaking" when l reached Dakota,
and as should have little use for
team before the next spring, thought
it wise not to have any live stock to
feed during the long winter. The idea
of a man running o farm with
bicycle was very amusing to some of
my neighbors. My bookish notions,
too, were not considered good form
among pioneer people, and soon be-
came known far and wide as that
college dude with a wheelr This
amused rather than annoyed Inc. for /
got along very nicely and derived no
end of practical use and enjoyment
from both books and wheel. l built
sod shanty like the rest, hired
neighbor to haul a stove and o
quantity of provisions from the near
est town, and began keeping house.
Once or twice a week l wheeled
twenty miles to this same town for my
mail. An old stage road running up
and down the river passed within one
hundred yards of my door. and no.
where in the world, think, was there
ever finer road for wheeling. There
were no ruts, no mud or stones, or
sand-nothing but two broad paths, as
smooth almost as an asphalt pave
ment, and as springy and noiscless as
only track made of tall grass pounded
down into a tough. firm sod can be.
Wagon wheels did not cut through
and make narrow rut, but played
here and there over breath of two
feet or more OH each side of q slim
strip of standing "blue-joint."
Coming back from town one day q
gruif old fellow who held claim
mile north of miue-''old man Turpit"
everyone called him came up behind
me with lively team Of four-year-
olds. never liked the old chap any
too well, and it was plain that he had
nothing but contempt for me and my
mount
why don't We give that thing away
and git We boss o. some account?" he
called out as he ratified up.
"Oh. this suits me very WE'LL" re-
piled. banteringly. II like horse
that doesn't cat hay and oats, you
know"
The old man gave sniff of con-
tempt, and popping the whip over his
colts, cut out into the tall grass to pass
me. But somehow he didn't get past,
though he whipped and shouted till
the air was fairly blue; and when
whirlcd in Mt my place and raised my
cap to him as he raced past, he was SO
mad that he wouldn't even look that
way.
There werc two fine manifestations
lying along the bank of the river be-
tween my claim and that of my neigh
Dor. Hans Larson. big-heartcd, big
listed Norwegian with whom I often
changed work. Turpit never tired of
chatting him for changing work with
shat soft-handed dude;" but Hans
only laughed good naturally at the
suggestion that was getting the long
end of the bargain. lie could easily do
as much work IS two like me.
dots oil rightg' he would say.
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