The Bamberg herald. [volume] (Bamberg, S.C.) 1891-1972, 1909-08-12
A MAGIC NAME.
An Episode in the Life of Buckskin
Sam.

Sam.
What has become OF Major Sam S.
Hall, a prominent figure in the pio-
neer history of the southwest, COM
mander of celebrated company OF
volunteer Texas Rangers, and an In
dian fighter of the caliber of Sam
Houston and Gen Miles?
This question was recently asked
at a small gathering of literary folk
in Pasadena, but no one present could
furnish any reply of positive char
acter.
A few years since, he was living
somewhere in his native State OF
Texas; no report of his death has
been published, at least to the best of
the knowledge and recollection of the
company in question; and I am frank
to state that they would each like to
known why and where this once wide
" known maker of southwestern his
tory has dropped 50 completely out
of public notice.
Like Kit Carson, Phil Sheridan,
and a few other heroic names upon
our country's roll of honor, Maj.
Hall ("Buckskin SAM was man
of small stature, perhaps the smallest
in the entire list. But in shrewd
generalship and daredevil bravery he
loomed up in large, commanding pro-
portions.
Indeed, there was a time when the
name of Buckskin Sam Hall was a
terror and an omen to hostile Indians
and renegade whites from Wyoming
to the Mexican border.
Many amusing, as well as thrilling
tales could be told Of the active days
Of this big little commander of from
tier heroes, for the rough life of the
early mining towns and border set
Elements, the humorous and ludicrous
often walked hand in hand with the
tragical and the heroic.
A simple incident of this character
is recalled to mind from the days
when Quartz Canon was a aourishing
stage coach station in eastern Ari-
zona.
Just to be up-to-date in the pre-
vailing fashion of the day, Quartz
Canon had it's liberal quota of tough
characters, man-eating bad 'uns,"
whose special pride consisted in oc-
casionally shooting up the town and
terrorizing generally the more peace,
ably inclined citizens.
This feature of the early days was
merely peculiar custom and follow
ed for no other reason than the die
tates of Dame Fashion, just as we
follow her mandate now in slightly
different way.
One day in early summer, on some
special occasion or other, quite
company of miners and rangemen
had congregated at the Saddleback
saloon and were sampling the liquid
refreshments of that hostelry In a
manner BETTING the time and place.
Things were quiet and orderly
enough until one Of the professional
bulldozing gentry appeared upon the
scene.
He was an untamed and ferocious-
looking specimen of mountain man
hood, clad in a red woolen shirt,
greasy trousers from which one leg
had been torn irregularly of at the
knee, a frayed and discolored buck
skin jacket, a broad belt in which
were stuck two 45-caliber Colts re-
volvers, and very disreputable-look-
ing fur cap minus the brim and
considerable portion Of the crown
through which fantastic wisps of un-
kept hair protruded in reckless dis
kempt hair protruded in reckless dis
way, he glanced around the room In
a way calculated to make every one
present feel a cold shiver along the
spine. Then prancing up to the bar,
he brought the butt of one huge re-
volver down on to the wooden rail-
ing with dramatic flourish.
Here, you!" he snarled at the
bartender, "trot out yer rat poison
for this whole gang-an' be quick
about it. Everybody licker up!'
The barkeeper hesitated moment,
not seeing the color of any legal ten
der about the strangers person, but
a savage scowl of impatience and an
ominous click of gunworks produced
the desired effect, and the crowd
obligingly emptied glass all around
at the newcomers dictation.
"When I say the word, it's fer you
to shiver in yer boots an obey or
S~or a