The Birmingham age-herald., 1924-01-20

strange and foreign country. Though we did not grasp it's meaning, we were really helping to knit together Just a few of the herds had been driven north of the thirty sixth merid- ian. In fact, we were duplicating the feat of the Red river pioneers who went to Abilene, as told in Emerson Hough's great historic novel.
 The reason for driving these herds north was to reach a new market, the Texas market having been killed by. the Civil war and the political troublesN following 1t.
 It may seem odd that a boy of Il years. little more than a baby, should be out on a rough expedition like this actually working for living. Nothing was thought of it then. was a little man, just as the others were big men. We each had our job to do.
 On that long drive we didn't see a single house, not the slightest sign of civilization, until after we had swum the herd across the. Red river. We fol- lowed the route of the previous herd, though we kept a little west of the Chisolm trail. Buffalo were a common sight in those days. In fact, have helped my father hunt buffalo over what is now Wichita Falls, Tex. an important city.
 On a like Journey I spent the lone somest and longest night in my whole life. It may indicate how my youth full mind grew hardened to tragedy.
 Two of the cowboys got into an ar- gument over the cattle and one of them shot the other, wounding him badly. As they brought the wounded man to a little tent one of the cowboys re- called that a doctor kyed in little village forty or fifty miles away. It was suggested that be left with the wounded cowboy while the riders went for the doctor. I never thought of pro- testing. We didn't complain in those days.
 Besieged By Wolves
 I sat with the wounded men and listened to his moans, bringing water and waiting on him as best I could. Between his moans I could occasion ally hear the shriek of a cbyette or wolf. It turned out to be a whole pack of wolves.
 The cowboy was barely conscious and I began to feel lonely. Unless you have sat alone on a prairie, with the stars shining so brightly as to look like electric light bulbs, and hear the piercing scream of afwoif, you have no idea how it can make your hair stand on end. No sound carries such terror as the chriek of a wolf on the hunt.
 As. I sat there with tingiing at the roots of my hair. realizing my utter loneliness, the poor cowboy died. Then I had to sit up with his body the live long night. The nearest to company got was the occasional moo of a COW whose calf was being sought by the wolves.
 Toward midnight the wolves came closer. I set the lantern in the door of the tent, now really a morgue. In semi-circie I could see the gray forms of the wolves and occasionally the light reflected in their eyes. grew into an old man that terrible | night. can never forget any phase of it as long as live.
 did what any other cattleman would have done, though got a | rifle and sat waiting. ready to protect myself. Mind you. I was only ten years old. The thought of the dead man with me was almost as horrible as the presence of the wolves outside
 The cowboys did not return with the, doctor, no longer needed, until after 6 o'clock in the morning.
 With a childhood jolt like that 1t is not strange that I have failed to find anything nerve-wracking in promot- | ing boxing match. But I am leading into my. next chapter.
 Tomorrow: Why Promoting Fights | Is Real Sport.