Orleans County monitor. [volume] (Barton, Vt.) 1872-1953, 1896-03-09
FIDDLING JIMMY.

he was long, lank and lean, light
halred, with pale blue eyes, the pro-
duct of the Missouri bottoms, where
Things sprout up with such amazing
qu1ckness and then mature with so
much elaboration.
When he dropped from a train at
Dodge City, he had an old fashioned
carpetsack in one hand and under his
other arm was a fiddle in a faded
brown bag. He looked about him
somewhat in wonderment at the river
and the rolling, treeless country
merging into the sky far away to the
south and then again at the long,
crowded street on the other side. He
looked but for moment, however,
and then proceeded straight to the Of
flee of the Southwestern Stage Com
pany. His inquiry there was short
and to the point.
"Have We got airy job a fellow can
do?'
This was years ago, when Dodge
was the end of the overland cattle
drive and fully entitled to it's reputa-
ton of wild and woolly town. To
the south for a few miles was
sprinkle of settlers and beyond that
all was lonesome and inhospitable.
The Southwestern company always
had vacancies. Along the many routes
we're certain relay stations, some of
which were sure to be in need of
keepers. There was one line in par
ticular, running down to Tascosa, on
the South Canadian, in Texas,
stretch Of $50 miles, and just little
over half way was a station, No. IS,
where man was needed at once. The
pay was $40 a month. The duties
were simply to watch half a dozen
mules and have a team ready for the
weekly blackboard that performed all
the transportation, the freight being
usually two of Uncle Sans mail sacks.
The company supplied gun and am
munition, flour, coffee, salt and gro
ceries. Truly it seemed a bonanza to
our knight of the violin.
There was no haggling over terms,
and Jim Cusenberry, fiddle and car
pet bag were duly dispatched the very
next morning to the field of his new
labors. And Jim was duly dubbed
Fiddling Jimmy by clerk, driver and
all who came in contact with him.
Jimmy had been duly informed that
he would find things ''sorter'' lone
some out at No IS, but had responded
that he didn't ''keer durn'' for be-
ing by himself. The fiddle was plenty
of company so his grub came regular.
Now, there were certain things
about No. Is that had been discreetly
overlooked in the telling. 1t was 80
miles from the stations on either side
and consisted of a square hole dug at
the top of steep bank overlooking
the WaterhOle in one of those plain
creeks where such holes occur at long
intervals, the remainder being simply
grass grown depression. The hole
was rooted with cottonwood poles,
upon which the dirt had been thrown
"a dugOut pure and simple. There
were rude fireplace and hole for a
chimney. This was Jimmy's residence.
There was a stockade up on the fat
for the mules, and with this you have
t he station complete.
No man who knew the country
could be induced to take No. IS for
love or money, SO the company had
to depend upon the ignorant and the
transient. The country was full of
COW thieves and rustlers. Occasion
al gangs of Indians from the Nation
used to slip along there, bent on any
deviltry that came handy. When No.
Is was occupied, it was shining
mark for such gentry. The last oc-
cupant had been found, not fort
night before, lying out on the fat
with bullet in the back of his head.
The man before him had had 80 mile
ride for life and month in bed from
leg broken by a winchester bullet.
On each occasion No. IS had been
Quilted and the mules run off.
But in blissful ignorance Jimmy
took possession of his new home. The
blackboard ratified away, the driver
looking back, sympathetic but non
committal.
For some weeks all was quiet and
peaceful. 1t was the pleasant season
of the early autumn. Jimmy put a
line in the water and had fish when
ever wanted. Twice he shot antelope
coming down to drink and reveled in
fresh meat. He shot everything of
any size that had wings and feathers,