16 - The Log of a Cowboy: The Republican

Episode Transcript

Speaker 1 (00:00):
Chapter sixteen of The Log of a Cowboy by Andy Adams.
This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. The Republican
the outfit were awakened out of sleep the next morning
by shouts of whoa MULEA whoa you mongrel outcasts catch
them blankety blank mules, accompanied by a rattle of chain harnesses,

(00:25):
and Quint's forests dashed across our Segundo's bed shaken a
harness in each hand. We kicked the blankets off and
came to our feet in time to see the offender
disappear behind the wagon. While stalling, sat up and yawning
inquired what other local fool has gotten funny? But the
camp was awake, for the cattle were leisurely leaving the

(00:48):
bed ground, while Honeyman, who had been excused from the
herd with the first sign of dawn, was rustling up
the horses in the valley of the Beaver below camp.
With the understanding that the Republican River was a short
three days drive from our present camp, the herd trailed
out that first day with not an incident to break
the monotony of eating and sleeping, grazing and guarding. But

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near noon of the second day, we were overtaken by
an old, long whiskered man and a boy of possibly fifteen.
They were riding in a light, rickety vehicle drawn by
a small Spanish mule and a rough but clean limbed
bay mayor. The strangers appealed to our sympathy, for they

(01:34):
were guileless in appearance, and asked so many questions, indicating
that ours might have been the first herd of trail
title they had ever seen. The old man was a
free talker, and innocently allowed us to inveigle it out
of him that he had been down on the North
Beaver looking up land a homestead, and was then on

(01:54):
his way up to take a look at the lands
along the Republican. We invited him and the boy to
remain for dinner, for in that monotonous waste we would
have been only too glad to entertain a bandit or
an angel, for that matter, provided he would talk about
something else than cattle. In our guest. However, we found
a good conversationalist, meaty with stories not eligible to the

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retired list, and in return, the hospitality of our wagon
was his and welcome the travel stained old rascal proved
to be a good mixer, and before dinner was over
he had won us to a man, though Stallings, in
the capacity of foreman, felt it incumbent upon him to
act the host in behalf of the outfit. In the

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course of conversation, the old man managed to unearth the
fact that our acting foreman was a native of Tennessee,
and when he had got it down to town and county,
claimed acquaintanceship with a family of men in that locality
who were famed as breeders of race horses. Our guests
to admitted that he himself was a native of that state,

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and in his younger days had been a devotee of
the race course, with the name of every horseman in
the Commonwealth, as well as the bluegrass regions of Kentucky
on his tongue's end. But adversity had come upon him,
and now he was looking out a new country in
which to begin life over again. After dinner, when our

(03:24):
ramuda was corralled to catch the fresh mounts, our guests
bubbled over with admiration of our horses and pointed out
several as promising speed and action. We took his praise
of our horse flesh as quite a compliment. Never suspecting
flattery at the hands of this nomadic patriarch, he innocently
inquired which was considered the fastest horse in the Ramuda.

(03:48):
When Stallings pointed out a brown belonging to Flood's mount
as the best quarter horse in the band, he gave
him a critical examination and confessed he never would have
picked him for a horse possessing speed, though he admitted
it that he was unfamiliar with range raised horses, this
being his first visit in the West, Stallings offered to

(04:09):
loan him a horse out of his mount, and as
the old man had no saddle, Ursugundo prevailed on Machan
to loan his for the afternoon. I am inclined to
think that there was a little jealousy among us that
afternoon as to who was best entitled to entertain our company.
And while he showed no partiality, Stallings seemed to monopolize

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his countrymen to our disadvantage. Those two jollied along from
point to rear and back again, and as they passed
us riders in the swing, Stalling ignored us entirely. Though
the old man always had a pleasant word as he
rode by if we don't do something to wean our
segundo from that old man, said Fox quarter Knight, as

(04:52):
he rode up and overtook me. He's liable to quit
the herd and follow that old fossil back to Tennessee
or some other port. Just look at the two now,
will you. Old Joe's putting on as much dog as
though he were asking the colonel for his daughter. Between
me and you and the gate post Cork, I am
a little dubious about that old barmut. He talks too much.

(05:16):
But I had warmed up to our guests and gave
Fox's criticism very little weight, well, knowing if any one
of us had been left in charge, he would have
shown the old man similar courtesies. In this view, I
was correct, for when Stalin's had ridden on ahead to
look up water that afternoon, the very man that entirely
monopolized our guest for an hour was mister John Fox

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quarter Night. Nor did he jar loose until we reached water,
when Stallings cut him off by sending all the men
on the right of the herd to hold the cattle
from grazing away until every hoof had had ample time
to drink During the rest, the old man circulated around
asking questions as usual, and when I informed him that

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with a half a mile of water front, it would
take a full hour to water the herd properly, he
expressed an innocent amazement, which seemed as simple as sincere.
When the wagon and Ramuta came up, I noticed the
boy had tied his team behind our wagon and was
riding one of Honeyman's horses bareback, assisting the wrangler in

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driving the saddle stock. After the wagon had crossed the
creek and the kegs had been filled and the teams watered,
Stallings took the old man with him, and the two
rode away in lead of the wagon and Ramuta to
select the camp and bed ground for the night. The
rest of us grazed the cattle, now thoroughly watered forward
until the wagon was sighted. When leaving the two men

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as usual to nurse them up to bed, the remainder
of us struck out for camp. As I rode in,
I sought out my bunkie to get his opinion regarding
our guest, but the rebel was resitant, as usual of
his opinions of people, so my inquiries remained unanswered. Which
only served to increase my confidence in the old man.

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On arriving at camp, we found Stallings and Honeyman entertaining
our visitor in a little game of freeze out for
a dollar a corner, while mac cann looked wistfully on,
as if regretting that his culinary duties prevented his joining in.
Our arrival should have been the signal to our wrangler
for rounding in the ramuda for night horses, but Stallings

(07:28):
was too absorbed in the game even to notice the
lateness of the hour and order in the saddle stock.
Quarter Night, however, had a few dollars burning holes in
his pocket, and he called our horse rustler's attention to
the approaching twilight. Not that he was in any hurry,
but if Honeyman vacated, he saw an opportunity to get

(07:48):
into the game. The foreman gave the necessary order, and
quarter Night at once bargained for the wrangler's remaining beans,
and sat into the game. While we were catching up
our night horses, Honeyman told us that the old man
had been joking Stallings about the speed of floods Brown,
even going so far as to intimate that he didn't

(08:09):
believe that the gelding could outrun that old Bay harness
Mayor which he was driving. He had confessed that he
was too hard up to wager much on it, but
he would risk a few dollars on his judgment on
a running horse any day. He also said that Stallings
had come back at him more in earnest than in jest,
that if he really thought his harness Mayor could outrun

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the brown, he could win every dollar the outfit had.
They had caught at one another until Joe had shown
some spirit when the old man suggested they play a
little game of cards for fun, but Stallings had insisted
on stakes to make it interesting, and on the old
homesteader pleading poverty, they had agreed to make it for
a dollar on the corner. After supper, Arsugundo wanted to

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renew the game. The old man protested that he was
too unlucky and could not afford to lose, but was
finally persuaded to play one more game just to pass
away the evening. Well. The evening passed, and within the
short space of two hours there also passed to the
supposed lean purse of our guest, some twenty dollars from

(09:15):
the feverish pockets of the outfit. Then the old man
felt too sleepy to play any longer, but loitered about
some time and casually inquired of his boy if he
had picket it their mayor where she would get a
good bait of grass. This naturally brought up the proposed
race for discussion. If you really think that old bay

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Palfrey of yours can outrun any horse in our Ramuda,
said starlings tauntingly, You're missing the chance of your life
not to pick up a few honest dollars as you
journey along. You stay with us tomorrow, and when we
meet our foreman at the Republican, if he'll loan me
the horse, I'll give you a race for any sum
you name, just to show you that I've got a

(09:57):
few drops of sporting blood in me. If your mayor
can outrun a cow, you stand an easy chance to
win some money. Our visitor met Joe's bantering in a
timid manner. Before turning in. However, he informed us that
he appreciated our hospitality, but that he expected to make
an early drive in the morning to the Republican, where

(10:18):
he might camp several days. With this the old Man
and the boy unrolled their blankets, and both were soon
sound asleep. Then our segundo quietly took Fox quarter Night
off to one side, and I heard the latter agree
to call him when the third guard was aroused. Having
notified Honeyman that he would stand his own watch that night, Stallings,

(10:40):
with the rest of the outfit, soon joined the old
Man in the land of dreams. Instead of the rough
shaking which was customary on arousing a guard, when we
of the third watch were called, we were awakened in
a manner so cautious as to be token something unusual
in the air. The atmosphere of mystery soon cleared after

(11:00):
reaching the herd, when Bob Blades informed us that it
was the intention of Stalling's and quarter Knight to steal
the old Man's harness mare off the picket rope and
run her against their night horses in a trial race.
Like love and war, everything is fair in horse racing,
But the audacity of this proposition almost passed belief. Both

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Blades and Durham remained on guard with us, and before
we had circled the herd half a dozen times, the
two conspirators came riding up to the bed ground, leading
the Bay Mayor. There was a good moon that night.
Quarter Knight exchanged mounts with John Officer, and the latter
had a splendid night horse that had outstripped the outfit

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in every stampede so far, and Arsugundo and the second
guard rode out of hearing of both herd and camp
to try out the horses. After an hour, the quartet returned,
and under solemn pledges of secrecy, Stalling said, why that
old Bay harness man can't run fast enough to keep
up with a funeral? I wrote her myself. And if

(12:04):
she's got any run in her rowl and quirt won't
bring it out. That chestnut of John's ran away from
her as if she were hobbled and sidelined, while this
coyote of mine threw dust in her face every jump
in the road from the word go. If the old
man isn't bluffing, and we'll hack his mayor, we'll get
back our freeze out money with good interest. Mind you, now,

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we must keep it a dead secret from flood that
we tried the mayor. He might get funny and tip
the old man. We all swore great oaths that floods,
should never hear a breath of it. The conspirators and
their accomplices rode in the camp and we resumed our
sentinel rounds. I had some money and figured that betting
in a cinch like this would be like finding money

(12:49):
in the road. But the rebel, when we were returning
from guard, said Tom, keep out of this race. The
boys are trying to jump up. I've met a good
many innocent men in my life, and there's something about
this old man that reminds me of people who haven't
axe the grind. Let the other fellows run on the
rope if they want to, but you keep your money

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in your pocket. Take an older man's advice this once,
and I'm going to round up John in the morning
and try and beat a little sense in the hiss head,
for he thinks it's a dead, immortal cinch. I had
made it a rule during our brief acquaintance never to
argue matters with my bunkie, well, knowing that his years
and experience in the ways of the world entitled his

(13:32):
advice to my earnest consideration. So I kept silent, though
secretly wishing he had not taken the trouble to throw
cold water on my hopes, for I had built several
air castles with the money which seemed within my grasp.
We had been out then over four months, and I,
like many of the other boys, was getting ragged and
with old Glalla. Within a week's drive a town in

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which it took money to see properly, I thought it
a burning shame to let this opportunity pass. When I
awoke the next morning, the camp was astir, and my
first look was in the direction of the harness Mayor,
grazing peacefully on the picket rope where she had been
tethered the night before. Breakfast was over. Our venerable visitor,

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Harnessed in his team preparatory to starting stallings, had made
it a point to return to the herd for a
parting word. Well, if you must go on ahead, said
Joe to the old man, as the latter was ready
to depart, Remember that you can get action on your money.
If you still think that your bay mayor can outrun
the brown cow horse, which I pointed out to you yesterday,

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you needn't let your poverty into fear, for we'll run
to suit your purse, light or heavy. The herd will
reach the river by the middle of the afternoon or
a little later, and you be sure and stay over
night there, Stay with us if you want to, and
we'll make up little race for any sum you say,
from marbles and chalk to a hundred dollars. I may

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be as badly deceived in your mayor's as I think
you are in my horses. But if you're a Tennesseean,
here's your chance. But beyond giving stalling his word that
he would see him again during the afternoon or evening,
the old man would make no definite proposition and drove away.
There was a difference of opinion amongst the outfit, some

(15:22):
asserting that we would never see him again, while the
larger portion of us were at least hopeful that we would.
After our guests was well out of sight and before
the wagon started, Stallings corralled the Remuda a second time,
and taking out floods Brown and Officer's Chestnut, tried the
two horses for a short dash of about one hundred yards.

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The trial confirmed the general opinion of the outfit, for
the Brown outran the chestnut over four lengths, starting half
a neck in the rear. The general canvass of the
outfit was taken, and to my surprise there was over
three hundred dollars amongst us. I had over forty dollars,
but I only promised to loan mine if it was needed,

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while Priest refused flat footed, either to lend or bet
his I wanted to bet, and it would grieve me
to the quick if there was any chance, and I
didn't take it, but I was young. Then Flood Medicine
noon about seven miles out from the Republican with the
superintendent of a cattle company in Montana, and before we

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started the herd after dinner, had sold our Remuda wagon
and mules for delivery at the nearest railroad point to
the Blackfoot Agency some time during September. This cattle company,
so we afterwards learned from Flood, had headquarters at Helena,
while their ranges were somewhere on the head waters of
the Missouri. But the sale of the horses seemed to

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us an insignificant matter compared with the race which was
on the tapis. And when Stallings had made the ablest
talk of his life for the loan of the brown,
Flood asked a new owner, a Texan himself, if he
at any objections, certainly not, said he. Let the boys
have a little fun. I'm glad to know that the
Ramuda has fast horses in it. Why didn't you tell me, Flood?

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I might have paid you extra if I had known
I was buying race horses. Be sure and have the
race come off this evening, for I want to see it.
And he was not only good enough to give us consent,
but added a word of advice. There's a dead fall
down here on the river, said he. That rob's a
man going and coming. They've got booze to sell you

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that would make a pet rabbit fight a wolf. And
if you can't stand the whisky, why they have skin
games running to fleece you as fast as you can
get your money to the center. Be sure, lads, and
let both their whisky and their cards alone. While changing
mounts after dinner, Stallings caught out the brown horse and
tied him behind the wagon, while Flood and the horse

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fire returned to the river in the conveyance, our foreman
having left his horse at the ford. When we reached
the Republic with the herd about two hours before sundown,
and while we were crossing and watering, who should ride
up on the Spanish mule. But our Tennessee friend, if anything,
he was a trifle more talkative and boastful than before,

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which was easily accounted for, as it was evident that
he was drinking, and producing a large bottle which had
but few drinks left in it, insisted on every one
taking a drink with him. He said he was encamped
half a mile down the river, and that he would
race his mayor against our horses for fifty dollars, that
if we were in earnest and would go back with

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him and post our money at the tent, he would
cover it. Then Stalling's in turn became crafty and diplomatic,
and after asking a number of unimportant questions regarding conditions,
returned to the joint, with the old man taking fox
quarter night. To the rest of us, it looked as
though there was going to be no chance to bet
a dollar even But after the herd had been watered

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and we had grazed out some distance from the river,
the two worthies returned. They had posted their money, and
all the conditions were agreed upon. The race was to
take place at sundown over at the saloon and gambling joint.
In reply, to an earnest inquiry by Bob Blades, the
outfit were informed that we might get some side bets
with the gamblers, but the money already posted was theirs

(19:22):
win or lose. This selfishness was not looked upon very favorably,
and some harsh comments were made, but Stalling's and quarter
Night were immovable. We had an early supper and pressing
in Macan to assist the rebel in grazing the herd
until our return. The cavalcade set out flood and the
horsepire with us. My bunkie urged me to let him

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keep my money, but under the pretense of some of
the outfit wanting to borrow it, I took it with me.
The race was to be catch weights, and as Rob
Wheat was delightest in our outfit, the riding fell to him.
On the way way over, I worked Bull Durham out
to one side, and after explaining the jacketing I had
got from Priest and the partial promise I had made

(20:08):
not to bet, gave him my forty dollars to wager
for me if he got a chance. Bull and I
were good friends, and on the understanding that it was
to be a secret, I intimated that some of the
velvet would lie in his purse. On reaching the tent,
we found about half a dozen men loitering around. Among
them the old man, who promptly invited us all to

(20:30):
have a drink with him. A number of us accepted
and took a chance against the vintage of this canvas
road house. Though the warnings of the Montana horse fire
were fully justified by the quality of the goods dispensed.
While taking the drink, the old man was lamenting his poverty,
which kept him from betting more money, And after we
had gone outside, the saloon keeper came and said to him,

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in a burst of generous feeling, old Sport, you're a
stranger to me, but I can see it a lance
that you're a dead game man. Now, if you need
any more money, just give me a bill of sale
on your mayor and mule, and I'll advance you a hundred.
Of course, I know nothing about the merits of the
two horses, but I notice your team as you drove
up today, and if you can use any more money,

(21:17):
just ask for it. The old man jumped at the
proposition in delighted surprise. The two re entered a tent,
and after killing considerable time in riding out a bill
of sale, the old gray beard came out shaking a
roll of bills at us. He was promptly accommodated bull Durham,
making the first bet of fifty, and as I caught

(21:39):
his eye, I walked away, shaking hands with myself over
my crafty scheme. When the old man's money was all taken,
the hangers on of the place became enthusiastic over the
betting and took every bet while there was a dollar
in sight amongst our crowd. The horse buyer even making
a wager. When we were out of money, they offered

(21:59):
the bet again. Star saddles, six shooters and watches. Flood
warned us not to bet our saddles, but quarter Night
and Stallings had already wagered theirs and were stripping them
from their horses to turn them over to the saloon keeper.
As stakeholder. I managed to get a ten dollar bet
on my six shooter, though it was worth double the
money and a similar amount on my watch. When the

(22:23):
betting end at every watch and six shooter in the
outfit was in the hands of the stakeholder, and had
it not been for flood our saddles would have been
in the same hands. It was to be a three
hundred yard race with an ask and answers start between
the riders. Stallings and the old Man stepped off the
course parallel with the river and laid a rope on

(22:43):
the ground to mark the start and the finish. The
sun had already set and twilight was deepening when the
old man signaled to his boy in the distance to
bring up the mare. Wheat was slowly walking the brown
horse over the course. When the boy came up cantering,
the mayor blanketed with an old government blanket over the
imaginary track. Also, these preliminaries thrilled us like the tuning

(23:08):
of a fiddle for a dance. Stallings and the old
homesteader went out to the starting point to give the
riders the terms of the race, while the remainder of
us congregated at the finish. It was getting dusk when
the blankets were stripped from the mayor and the riders
began jockeying for a start. In that twilight stillness, we
could hear the question are you ready and the answer no.

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As the two jockeys came up to the starting rope.
But finally there was an affirmative answer, and the two
horses were coming through like arrows in their flight. My
heart stood still for the time being, and when the
bay mare crossed a rope at the outcome an easy winter,
I was speechless. Such a crestfalling looking lot of men
as we were would be hard to conceive. We had

(23:53):
been beaten, and not only felt it, but looked it.
Flood brought us to our senses by calling our attention
to the approaching darkness and setting off in a gallop
toward the herd. The rest of us trailed along silently
after him in threes and fours. After the herd had
been betted and we had gone into the wagon, my
spirits were slightly lightened at the sight of the two

(24:15):
arch conspirators, Stallings and quarter Night, meekly riding in bareback.
I enjoyed the laughter of the Rebel and Machan at
their plight. But when my bunkey noticed my six shooter
missing and I admitted having bet it, he turned the
laugh on me. That's right, son, he said, And don't
you take anybody's advice. You're young yet, but you'll learn.

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And when you learn it for yourself, you'll remember it
that much better. That night, when we were on guard together,
I eased my conscience by making a clean breast of
a whole affair to my bunkie, which resulted in him
loaning me ten dollars with which to redeem my six
shooter in the morning. But the other boys, with the
exception of Officer, had no banker to call on as

(24:59):
we had, And when quarter Knight and Stallings asked the
foreman what they were to do for saddles, the latters
suggested that one of them could use the cooks while
the other could take it bareback or ride in the wagon.
But the montana man interceded in their behalf and flud
finally gave in and advanced them enough to redeem their saddles.

(25:20):
Our foreman had no great amount of money with him,
but mc cann and the horse Fire came to the
rescue for what they had, and the guns were redeemed.
Not that they were needed, but we would have been
so lonesome without them. I had worn one so long
I didn't trim well without it, but toppled forward and
couldn't maintain my balance. But the most cruel exposure of

(25:42):
the whole affair occurred when NAT's straw riding in ahead
of us, herd overtook us. One day out from Oglala.
I met Old Sese Littlefield, said Nat, back at the
ford of the Republican, and he tells me that they
won over five hundred dollars off the seat outfit on
a horse race. He showed me a whole basketful of

(26:04):
your watches. I used to meet Old says I over
on the Chisholm trail, and he's a foxy old innocent.
He told me that he put tar on his harness
mare's back to see if you fellows had stolen the
nag off the picket rope at night, and when he
found you had, he robbed you to a finish. He
knew you fool Texans would bet your last dollar on

(26:25):
such a cinch. That's one of his tricks. You see,
the mayor you tried wasn't the one you ran the
race against. I've seen them both, and they look as
much alike as two pint bottles. My, but you fellows
are easy fish. And then Jim Flood lay down on
the grass and laughed until tears came into his eyes.

(26:45):
And we understood that there were tricks in other trades
than ours. End of Chapter sixteen.