Keowee courier. [volume] (Pickens Court House, S.C.) 1849-current, 1907-08-07
The Last COWBOY.

H. : ~ i. -
The last cowboy looked at the
caravan of prairie schooners waiting
for the. opening of the Big Pasture.
Far away the wisps of smoke from a
Touring mill blurred the horizon.
"Mexico for me-" was all he said.
There are no more big pastures.
There was all Of Oklahoma once.
Then the government cut down the
range by the great opening of 1888.
Then there was the Cherokee
strip, and this went ont in the grsa.
rush of 1893. Then there was No
Mans Land, and this is now peaoe-
ful county in Oklahoma, settled by
the despised "Nestors." Then there
was the 1. x. Z. with its three mil.
lion acres in a solid body. This haa
hSen cut mp in email farms, and
Amarillo, the old cattle Quitting
point, has become a city Of farmers.
And last of all was the Big Pasture.
Now that is going.
The last cowboy was too good q
loser to whimper. 'tIt was great
day for us while it lasted" he said.
All of this Western country was
ours. We could ride where, we
pleased, shoot where, we pleased,
when we pleased and almost who
ever we pleased, and no questions
asked. We made this country, or at
least this part of the country. We
got here when the Indians were here.
We drove out the Indians. Then
we drove out the wolves. Then we
exterminated the coyotes and prairie
dogs. Now we have got to follow the
long trail. No more United States
for US. The blamed old Nestor has
made US hard to catch. It's home
and kids and the quiet life for us
after this. NJ
"But we have done some things
besides shoot up towns and make
tenderfeet dance in booze joints.
First Of all we tanned the Comanches.
We had hard tussle with them
redskins, but we made Christians out
of them before we got through, and
they are the peaceablest Indians in
the West to-day. We fought 'em
all the way from the Cimarron to the
Rio Grande, through the sage brush
and the chapparal till they quit steal
ing ponies and quit burning towns.
The pie IRE books don't give US any
credit for this. They Just tell about
the times when we got off the range
on bulge hunt. Yet we we're the
long arm of the law in this w estern
country up to the time the Nestors
began to get thick, some twelve or
fifteen years ago. Time was when
you could go 500 miles on stretch
and never strike a constable. 1t was
the cowboy who kept out the cattle
thief, who kept out the train robbers
and the murderers and the rest oil
the bunch who 60 out principally in
the night time.
"Of course it hurts. When fel.
low has got used TO 'gyp' water and
the mirages, when the shadows Of
the mountains take on the gold and
silver, in the evenings, when the
grayof the sage brush gets into the
blood, q fellow kind of hates to leave
it. It's been home to US from the
time we could throw our legs across
a pony's back. The great winkine
stars at night and the great staring
sun in the, day time, they have
burned their way into the marrow Of
our bones. We have been brother to
the desert loneliness, to the gray
wolf and the slinking coyote, CON-
panions of the dumb brutes who
feed on the rolling prairies. And
it's hard to quit. It's hard to think
we have reached Lands End, that
the old free life has gone forever and
that from this time on we must
adopt domestic habits or 60 to where
there are no wire fences, no rail.
roads and no Nestors. Think of me