05 - The Log of a Cowboy: A Dry River

Episode Transcript

Speaker 1 (00:00):
Chapter five of The Log of a Cowboy by Andy Adams.
This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. A dry drive,
our cattle quieted down nicely after this run, and the
next few weeks brought not an incident worth recording. There
was no regular trail through the lower counties, so we

(00:22):
simply kept to the open country. Spring had advanced until
the prairies were swarded with grass and flowers, while water,
though scarcer, was to be had at least once daily.
We passed to the west of San Antonio, an outfitting
point which all herds touched in passing northward and flood,

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and our cook took the wagon and went in for supplies,
but the outfit with the herd kept on. Now launched
on a broad, well defined trail in places seventy five
yards wide, where all local trails blend into the one
common pathway no in those days as the old Western Trail.

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It is not in the province of this narrative to
deal with the cause or origin of this cattle trail,
though it marked the passage of many hundred thousands cattle,
which preceded our circle dots, and was destined to afford
an outlet to several millions more to follow. The trail
proper consisted of many scores of irregular cow paths united

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into one broad passageway, narrowing and widening as conditions permitted,
yet ever leading northward. After a few years of continued use,
it became as well defined as the course of a river.
Several herds which had started farther up country were a
head of ours, and this we considered an advantage, for

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wherever one herd could go, it was reasonable that others
could follow. Flood knew the trail as well as any
of the other foremen, but there was one thing he
had not taken into consideration, the drought of the preceding summer. True,
there had been local spring showers sufficient to start the
grass nicely, but water, in such quantities as we need

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it was growing daily more difficult to find. The first
week after leaving San Antonio, our foreman scouted in quest
of water, a full day in advance of the herd.
One evening he returned to us with the news that
we were in for a dry drive, for after passing
the next chain of lakes, it was sixty miles to

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the next water, and reports regarding the water supply even
after crossing this arid stretch were very conflicting. Well, I
know every foot of this trail through here, said the foreman.
There are several things that look scaly. There are only
five herds ahead of us, and the first three went
through the old route, but the last two, after passing

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Indian Lakes, for some reason or other, turned and went westward.
These last herds may be stock cattle pushing out west
to new ranges, but I don't like the outlook. It
would take me two days to ride across and back,
and by that time we could be two thirds of
the way through. I've made this drive before without a
drop of water on the way, and wouldn't read it

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now if there was any certainty of water at the
other end. I reckon. There's nothing to do but tackle her.
But isn't this a hell of a country. I've ridden
fifty miles to day and never saw a soul. The
Indian Lakes, some seven in number, were natural reservoirs with
rocky bottoms, and about a mile apart. We watered at

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ten o'clock the next day, and by night camped fifteen
miles on our way. There was plenty of good grazing
for the cattle and horses, and no trouble was experienced.
The first night mc cann had filled an extra twenty
gallon keg for this trip. Water was too precious of
an article to be lavish with, so we shook the

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dust from our clothing and went unwashed. This was no
serious deprivation, and no one could be critical of another,
for we were all equally dusty and dirty. The next morning,
by daybreak the cattle were thrown off the bed ground
and started grazing before the sun could dry out what
little moisture the grass had absorbed during the night. The

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heat of the past week had been very oppressive, and
in order to avoid it as much as possible, we
made late and early drives before the wagon passed the herd.
During the morning drive, what few canteens we had were
filled with water for the men. The ramuda was kept
with the herd, and four changes of mounts were made
during the day in order not to exhaust any one horse.

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Several times for an hour or more, the herd was
allowed to lie down and rest, but by the middle
of the afternoon thirst made them impatient and restless, and
the pointmen were compelled to ride steadily in the lead
in order to hold the cattle to a walk. A
number of times during the afternoon we attempted to graze them,
but not until the twilight of evening was it possible.

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After the fourth change of horses was made, Honeyman pushed
on ahead with the saddle stock and overtook the wagon.
Under Flood's orders, he was to tie up all the
night horses, for if the cattle could be induced to grays,
we would not bed them down before ten that night,
and all hands would be required with the herd. Macan

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had instructions to make camp on the Divide, which was
known to be twenty five miles from our camp of
the night before and forty miles from the Indian Lakes.
As we expected, the cattle grazed willingly. After nightfall, and
with a fair moon, we allowed them to scatter freely
while grazing forward. The beacon of Macan's fire on the

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Divide was in sight over an hour before the herd
grazed up to the camp, all hands remaining to bed
the thirsty cattle. The herd was given triple the amount
of space usually required for betting, and even then for
nearly an hour, scarcely half of them lay down. We
were handling the cattle as humanely as possible under the circumstances.

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The guards for the night were doubled, six men on
the first half, and the same on the ladder, bob
blades being detailed to assist honeyman in night herding the
saddle horses. If any of us got more than an
hour's sleep that night, he was lucky. Flood Macann and
the horse wranglers did not even try to rest. To

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those of us who could find time to eat, our
cook kept open house. Our foreman knew that a well
fed man can stand an incredible amount of hardship, and
appreciated the fact that on the trail a good cook
is a valuable asset. Our outfit, therefore was cheerful to
a man, and jokes and songs helped to while away

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the weary hours of the night. The second guard under
Flood pushed the cattle off their beds an hour before dawn,
and before they were relieved, had urged the herd more
than five miles on the third day's drive over this
waterless Mesa, in spite of our economy of water. After
breakfast on this third morning, there was scarcely enough left

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to fill the canteens for the day. In view of this,
we could promise ourselves no midday meal except the can
of tomatoes to the man. So the wagon was ordered
to drive through to the expected water ahead, while the
saddle horses were held available, as on the day before,
for frequent changing of mounts. The day turned out to

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be one of torrid heat, and before the middle of
the forenoon the cattle lolled their tongues in despair, while
their sullen lollings surged through from rear to lead and
back again in pietous yet ominous appeal. The only relief
we could offer was to travel them slowly, as they
spun earned every opportunity offered them, either to graze or

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to lie down. It was nearly noon when we reached
the last divide and sighted the scattering timber of the
expected water course. The enforced order of the day before
to hold the herd in a walk and prevent exertion
and heating, now required four men in the lead, while
the rear followed over a mile behind, dogged and sullen.

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Near the middle of the afternoon, Macan returned on one
of his mules, with the word that it was a
question if there was water enough to water even the
horse stock. The preceding outfit, so he reported, had dug
a shallow well in the bed of the creek from
which he had filled his kegs, but the stockwater was
a mere lob lolly. On receipt of this news, we

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changed mouse for the fifth time that day, and Flood
taking for us, the cook and the horse wrangler pushed
on ahead with a ramuda to the waterless stream. The
outlook was anything but encouraging. Flood and Forest scouted the
creek up and down for ten miles in a fruitless
search for water. The outfit held the herd back until

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the twilight of evening, when Flood returned and confirmed Macan's report.
It was twenty miles yet to the next water ahead,
and if the horse stock could only be watered thoroughly,
Flood was determined to make the attempt to nurse the
herd through to water. Mc cann was digging an extra well,
and he expressed the belief that by hollowing out a

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number of holes, enough water could be secured for the
saddle stock. Honeyman had corrouned the horses, and was letting
only a few go to water at a time, while
the night horses were being thoroughly watered as fast as
the water rose in the well holding the herd. This
third night required all hands. Only a few men at

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a time were allowed to go into camp and eat,
for the herd refused even to lie down. What few
cattle attempted to rest were prevented by the more restless
ones by spells. They would mill until riders were sent
through the herd at breakneck pace to break up the groups.
During these million efforts of the herd, we drifted over

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a mile from camp, but by the light of the
moon and stars and the number of riders, scattering was prevented.
As the horses were loose for the night, we could
not start them on the trail until daybreak gave us
a change of mounts, so we lost the early start
of the morning before good cloudy weather would have saved us.

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But in its stead was a sultry morning without a
breath of air, which bespoke another day of sizzling heat.
We had not been on the trail over two hours
before the heat became almost unbearable to man and beast,
had it not been for the condition of the herd,
all might yet have gone well. Over Three days had

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now elapsed without water for the cattle, and they became
feverish and ungovernable. The lead cattle turned back several times,
wandering aimlessly in any direction, and it was with considerable
difficulty that the herd could be held on the trail.
The rear overtook the lead, and the cattle gradually lost

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all semblance of a trail herd. Our horses were fresh, however,
and after about two hours work we once more got
the herd strung out in trailing fashion. But before a
mile had been covered, the leaders again turned, and the
cattle congregated into a mass of unmanageable animals, milling and
lolling in their fever and thirst. The milling only intensified

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their suffering from the heat, and the outfits split and
quartered them again and again in the hope that this
unfortunate outbreak might be checked. No sooner was the milling
stopped than they would surge hither and yawn, sometimes half
a mile, as ungovernable as the waves of an ocean.
After wasting several hours in this manner, they finally turned

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back over the trail, and the utmost efforts of every
man in the outfit failed to check them. We threw
our ropes in their faces, and when this failed, we
resorted to shooting. But in defiance of the fusillade and
the smoke, they walked sullenly through the line of horsemen
across their front. Six shooters were discharged so close to

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the leaders faces as to singe their hair. Yet under
a noonday sun, they disregarded this and every other device
to turn them, and passed wholly out of our control.
In a number of instances, wild steers deliberately walked against
our horses, And then for the first time a fact
dawned on us that chilled the marrow in our bones.

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The herd was going blind. The bones of men and
animals that lie bleaching along the trails abundantly testify that
this was not the first instance in which the plain
had baffled the determination of man. It was now evident
that nothing short of water would stop the herd, and
we rode aside and let them pass. As the outfit

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turned back to the wagon, our foreman seemed dazed by
the sudden and unexpected turn of affairs, but rallied and
met the emergency. There's but one thing left to do,
he said as we rode along, and that is to
hurry the outfit back to Indian Lakes. The herd will
travel day and night, and instinct can be depended on

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to carry them to the only water they know. It's
too late to be of any use now, but it's
plain while those last two herds turned off at the lakes,
some one had gone back and warned them of the
very thing we've met. We must beat them to the lakes,
for water is the only thing that will check them now.
It's a good thing that they are strong, and five

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or six days without water will hardly kill any It
was no vague statement of the man who said if
he owned Hell in Texas, he'd rent in Texas and
live in Hell. For if this isn't Billy Hell, I'd
like to know what you call it. We spent an
hour watering the horses from the wells of our camp

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of the night before, and about two o'clock started back
over the trail for Indian Lakes. We overtook the abandoned
herd during the afternoon. They were strung out nearly five
miles in length and were walking about a three mile gait.
Four men were given to extra horses apiece and left
to throw in the stragglers in the rear, with instructions

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to follow them well into the night and again in
the morning as long as their canteens lasted. The remainder
of the outfit pushed on without a halt except the
change mounts, and reached the lakes shortly after midnight. There
we secured the first good sleep of any consequence for
three days. It was fortunate for us that there were

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no range cattle at these lakes, and we had only
to cover a front of about six miles to catch
the drifting herd. It was nearly noon the next day
before the cattle began to arrive at the water holes
in squads of twenty to fifty. Pitiful objects as they were,
it was a novelty to see them reach the water
and slack their thirst, wading out into the lakes until

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their sides were half covered. They would stand and low
in a soft moaning voice, often for a half hour
before attempting to drink. Contrary to our expectation, they drank
very little at first, but stood in the water for
hours after coming out, they would lie down and rest
for hours longer, and then drink again before attempting to

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graze their thirst overpowering hunger. That they were blind, there
was no question, but with the cause that produced it,
once removed, it was probable their eyesight would gradually reach
our By early evening, the rear guard of our outfit
returned and reported the tail end of the herd, some
twenty miles behind when they left them. During the day,

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not over a thousand head reached the lakes, and towards
evening we put these under herd and easily held them
during the night. All four of the men who constituted
the rear guard were sent back the next morning to
prod up the rear again, and during the night at
least a thousand more came into the lakes, which held
them better than a hundred men. With recovery of the cattle,

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our hopes grew, and with the gradual accession to the herd,
confidence was again completely restored. Our saddle stock, not having suffered,
has had The cattle were in serviceable condition, and while
a few men were all that were necessary to hold
the herd, the others scoured the country for miles in

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search of any possible stragglers which might have missed the water.
During the forenoon of the third day at the lakes,
NAT's Straw, the foreman of Ellison's first herd on the trail,
rode up to our camp. He was scouting for water
for his herd, and when our situation was explained and
he had been interrogated regarding loose cattle, gave us the

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good news that no stragglers of our road brand had
been met by their outfit. This was welcome news, for
we had made no count yet and feared some of them,
in their locued condition, might have passed the water during
the night. Our misfortune was an ill wind by which
Straw profited, for he had fully expected to keep on

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by the old route, but with our disaster staring him
in the face, a similar experience was to be avoided.
His herd reached the lakes during the middle of the afternoon,
and after watering, turned and went westward over the new
route taken by the two herds which preceded us. He
had heard of about three thousand steers and was driving

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to the Dodge market. After the experience. We had just
gone through his herd and outfit were a welcome sight.
Flood made inquiries after Lovell's second herd under my brother
Bob as foreman, but Straw had seen or heard nothing
of them, having come from Goliad County with his cattle.

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After the Ellison herd had passed on and out of sight.
Our squad, which had been working the country to the
northward over the route by which the abandoned herd had returned,
came in with the information that the section was clear
of cattle and that they had found only three head
dead from thirst. On the fourth morning, as the herd

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left the bed ground, a count was ordered, and to
our surprise we counted out twenty six, had more than
we had received on the banks of the Rio Grande
a month before, as there had been but one previous
occasion the count. The number of strays absorbed into our
herd was easily accounted for by priests. If a steer

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herd could increase on the trail, why shut nars that
had over a thousand cows in it. The observation was
hardly borne out when the ages of our herd were
taken into consideration. But in eighteen eighty two in Texas
was a liberal day and generation, and cattle stealing was

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too drastic a term to use for the chance gain
of a few cattle when the foundation of princely fortunes
were being laid. With a rope and a branding iron.
In order to give the Ellison herd a good start
of us, we only moved our wagon to the farthest
lake and went into camp for the day. The herd
had recovered its normal condition by this time, and of

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the troubles of the past week not a trace remained. Instead,
or herd grazed in leisurely content over a thousand acres,
while with the exception of a few men unheard the
outfit lounged around the wagon and beguiled the time with cards.
We had undergone an experience which my Bunky, the rebel

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termed an interesting incident in his checkered career, but which
not even he would have cared to repeat. That night,
while on knight, heard together the cattle resting in all contentment.
We rode one round together, and as he rolled a cigarette,
he gave me an old war story they used to

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tell the story in the army that during one of
the winter retreats, a cavalryman riding along in the wake
of the column at night, saw a hat apparently floating
in the mud and water. In hope that it might
be a better hat than the one he was wearing,
he dismounted to get it, feeling his way carefully through
the ooze until he reached the hat. He was surprised

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to find a man underneath and wearing it. Hello, Conrad,
he sang out, Can I lend you a hand? No, no,
replied the fellow. I'm all right. I've got a good
mule yet under me. End of chapter five.