17 - The Log of a Cowboy: Ogalalla

Episode Transcript

Speaker 1 (00:00):
Chapter seventeen of The Log of a Cowboy by Andy Adams.
This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Ogalala, from
the head of Stinking Water to the south Platte was
a waterless stretch of forty miles, but by watering the
herd about the middle of one forenoon after grazing, we

(00:23):
could get water again the following evening. With the exception
of the meeting with NAT's straw, the drive was featureless.
But the night that Nat stayed with us he regaled
us with his experiences, in which he was as lucky
as ever. Where we had lost three days on the
Canadian with bogged cattle, he had crossed it within fifteen

(00:45):
minutes after reaching it. His herd was sold before reaching Dodge,
so that he lost no time there, and on reaching
Slaughter's Bridge he was only two days behind our herd.
His cattle were then en route for delivery on the
Crazy Woman in Wyoming, and as he put it, any
herd was liable to travel faster when it had a

(01:06):
new owner. Flood had heard from our employer at Culbertson,
learning that he would not meet us at Ogalala as
his last herd was due in Dodge. About that time,
my brother Bob's herd had crossed the Arkansas a week
behind us, and was then possibly one hundred and fifty
miles in our rear. We all regret it not being

(01:28):
able to see old man Don, for he believed that
nothing was too good for his men, and we all
remembered the good time he had shown us in Dodge.
The smoke of passing trains hung for hours in signal
clouds in our front during the afternoon of the second
day's dry drive, but we finally scaled the last divide,
and there below us in the valley of the South

(01:50):
Platte nestled Ogalala, the Gomorrah of the Cattle Trail. From
amongst its half hundred buildings, no church spire pointed upward,
but instead three fourths of its business houses were dance halls,
gambling houses, and saloons. We all knew the town by reputation,

(02:11):
while the larger part of our outfit had been in
it before. It was there that Joe Collins and his
outfit rendezvous when they robbed the Union Pacific train in
October seventy seven. Collins had driven a herd of cattle
for his father and brother, and after selling them in
the Black Hills, gambled away the proceeds. Some five or

(02:31):
six of his outfit returned to Ogalalla with him, and,
being moneyless, concluded to recoup their losses at the expense
of the railway company. Going eighteen miles up the river
to Big Springs, seven of them robbed the express and passengers,
the former yielding sixty thousand dollars in gold. The next

(02:51):
morning they were in Ogalalla, paying debts and getting their
horses shod. In Collins's outfit was Sam Bass, and under
his head his leadership until he met his death the
following spring at the hands of Texas rangers. The course
of the outfit southward was marked by a series of
daring bank and train robberies. We reached the river late

(03:13):
that evening, and after watering, grazed until dark and camped
for the night. But it was not to be a
night for rest and sleep, for the lights were twinkling
across the river in town and Cook, horse Wrangler, and
all with the exception of the first guard, rode across
the river after the herd had been bedded. Flood had

(03:34):
quit us while we were watering the herd and gone
in ahead to get a draft cashed for. He was
as moneyless as the rest of us, but his letter
of credit was good anywhere on the trail where money
was to be had, and on reaching town he took
us into a general outfitting store and paid us twenty
five dollars apiece. After warning us to be on hand

(03:55):
at the wagon to stand our watches, he left us
and we scattered like lost ship. Officer and I paid
our loans to the rebel, and the three of us
wandered around for several hours in company with Neat's straw.
When we were in Dodge, my bunkie had shown no
inclination to gamble, but now he was the first one
to suggest that we make up a cow and let

(04:17):
him try his luck at monty. Straw and Officer were
both willing, and though in rags, I willingly consented and
contributed my five to the general fund. Every gambling house
ran from two to three monty layouts, as it was
a favorite game of cowmen, especially when they were from

(04:38):
the far southern country. Priests soon found a game to
his liking, and after watching his play through several deals,
Officer and I left him with the understanding that he
would start for camp promptly at midnight. There was much
to be seen, though it was a small place, for
the ends of the earth's iniquity had gathered in Oglala.

(05:00):
We wandered through the various gambling houses, drinking moderately, meeting
an occasional acquaintance from Texas, and in the course of
our rounds landed in the dew drop in dance Hall.
Here might be seen the frailty of women in every
grade and condition, from girls in their teens launching out
on a life of shame, to the adventuress who had

(05:21):
once had youth and beauty in her favor but was
now discarded and ready for the final dose of opium,
and the coroner's verdict. All were there, in tinsel and paint,
practicing a careless exposure of their charms in a town
which had no night. The hours passed rapidly, and before
we were aware, midnight was upon us. Returning to the

(05:44):
gambling house where we had left Priest, we found him
over a hundred dollars winter and calling his attention to
the hour, persuaded him to cash in and join us.
We felt positively rich as he counted out to each
partner his share of the winning straw was missing to
receive his, but we knew he could be found on

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the morrow, and after a round of drinks, we forded
the river. As we rode along, my bunkies said, I'm
superstitious and I can't help it. But I felt for
a day or so that I was in luck, and
I want you lads in with me if my warning
was true. I never was afraid to go into battle,
but once, and just as we were ordered into action,

(06:27):
a shell killed my horse under me, and I was
left behind. I've had lots of such warnings, good and bad,
and I'm influenced by them. If we get off tomorrow
and i'm in the mood, I'll go back there and
make some Monte bank look sick. We reached the wagon
in good time to be called on our guard, and

(06:48):
after it was over, secured a few hours sleep. Before
the foreman aroused us in the morning. With herds above
and below us, we would either have to graze contrary
to our course or cross river. The South Platte was
a wide, sandy river with numerous channels, and as easily
crossed as an Alkali flat of equal width, so as

(07:10):
far as water was concerned. The sun was not an
hour high when we crossed, passing within two hundred yards
of the business section of the town, which lay under
a hill. The valley on the north side of the
river and beyond the railroad was not over a half
mile wide, and as we angled across it, the town
seemed as dead as those that slept in the graveyard

(07:33):
on the first hill beside the trail. Finding good grass
about a mile further on, we threw the herd off
the trail, and, leaving orders to graze until noon. The
foreman with the first and second Guard returned to town. It
was only about ten miles over to the north platte,
where water was certain, and in hope that we would

(07:54):
be permitted to revisit the village during the afternoon, we
who were on guard, threw riders in the lead of
the grazing cattle in order not to be too far
away should permission be granted us. That was a long
morning for us of the third and fourth Guards, with
nothing to do but let the cattle feed, while easy
money itched in our pockets behind us lay Ogalalla and

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our craft did dearly love to break the monotony of
our work by getting into town. But by the middle
of the forenoon the wagon and saddle horses overtook us, and,
ordering Macan into camp a scant mile in our lead,
we allowed the cattle to lie down they having grazed
to contentment, leaving two men on guard. The remainder of

(08:41):
us rode into the wagon and lightened, with an hour's
sleep in its shade. The time which hung heavy on
our hands, we were aroused by a horse wrangler who
had sighted a cavalcade down the trail, which, from the
color of their horses he knew to be our outfit. Returning.
As they came nearer and their numbers could be made out,

(09:03):
it was evident that our foremen was not with them,
and our hopes rose. On coming up, they informed us
that we were to have a half holiday while they
would take the herd over to the North River during
the afternoon. Then emergency orders rang out to Honeyman and Macan,
and as soon as a change of mounts could be secured,

(09:24):
our dinners bolted and the herders relieved. We were ready
to go. Two of the six who returned had shed
their rags and swaggered about in new cheap suits. The rest,
although they had money, simply had not had time to
buy clothes in a place with so many attractions. When
the herders came in, deft hands transferred their saddles to

(09:46):
waiting mounts while they swallowed a hasty dinner, and we
set out for Ogallalla happy as city urchins. In an orchard.
We were less than five miles from the burg and
struck a free gait in riding in, where we found
ever a hundred of our craft holding high jinks. A
number of herds had paid off their outfits and were
sending them home, while from the herds for sale holding

(10:09):
along the river, every man not on day heard was
paying his respects to the town. We had not been
there five minutes when a horse race was run through
the main street. Nat Straw and Jim Flood acting as
judges on the outcome. The officers of Ogallalla were a
different crowd from what we had encountered at Dodge, and

(10:30):
everything went the place suited us. Straw had entirely forgotten
our cow of the night before, and when the rebel
handed him his share of the winnings, he tucked it
away in the watch pocket of his trousers without counting.
But he had arranged the fiddling match between a darky
cook of one of the returning outfits and a local

(10:51):
white man, a mendicant of the place, and invited us
to be present. Straw knew the foreman of the outfit
to which the Darky belonged, and the two had fixed
it up to pit the two in a contest under
the pretense that a large wager had been made on
which was the better fiddler. The contest was to take

(11:12):
place at once in the corral of the Lone Star
livery Stable and promised it to be humorous, if nothing
more so. After the race was over, the next number
on the program was the fiddling match, and we followed
the crowd. The rebel had given us the slip during
the race, though none of us cared, as we knew
he was hungering for a monty game. It was a

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motley crowd which had gathered in the corral, and all
seemed to know the farce to be enacted, though the
Texas outfit to which the Darky belonged were flashing their
money on their dusky cook as the best fiddler that
ever crossed red river with a cow herd. Oh, I
don't know that your man is such an old bull.
As all that said, Nat Straw, I just got a

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hundred posted, which says he can't even play a decent
second to my men. And if we can get a
competent set of judges to decide the contest, I'll wager
a little more on the white against the black, though
I know your man is a crackerjack. A canvas of
the crowd was made for judges, but as nearly everyone
claimed to be interested in the result, having made wagers,

(12:19):
or was incompetent to sit in judgment on a musical contest,
there was some little delay. Finally Joe Stallins went the
net Straw and told him that I was a fiddler,
whereupon he instantly appointed me as judge, and the other
side selected a redheaded fellow belonging to one of Dillard
Fance herds. Between the two of us, we selected as

(12:42):
the third judge a bartender whom I had met the
night before. The conditions governing the contest were given us,
and two chuck wagons were drawn up alongside each other,
in one of which were seated the contestants, and in
the other the judges. The gravity of the crowd was
only broken has some enthusiast cheered his favorite or defiantly

(13:04):
offered to wager on the man of his choice. Numerous
sham bets were being made when the red headed judge
arose and announced the conditions and urged the crowd to
remain quiet that the contestants might have equal justice. Each
fiddler selected his own piece. The first number was a waltz,
on the conclusion of which partisanship ran high, each faction

(13:28):
cheering in its favorite to the echo. The second number
was a jig, and as the darky drew his bow
several times across the string tentatively, his foreman, who stood
six inches taller than any man in a crowd of
tall men, tapped himself on the breast with one finger,
and with the other pointed at his dusky champion, saying,

(13:50):
keep your eye on me. Price. We're going home together, Remember, you,
black rascal. You can make a mocking bird ashamed of
itself if you try. You know I've sworn by you
through thick and thin. Now win this money, Pay no
attention to anyone else. Keep your eye on me, straw.

(14:11):
Not to be outdone, in encouragement, cheered his man with
promises of reward, and his faction of supporters raised such
a din that fance Man arose and demanded quiet so
the contest could proceed. Though boisterous, the crowd was good tempered,
and after the second number was disposed of, the final

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test was announced, which was to be in sacred music.
On this announcement, the tall Foreman waited through the crowd
and drawn the darky to him, whispered something in his ear,
and then fell back to his former position. The dusky
Artist's countenance brightened, and with a few preliminaries, he struck

(14:52):
into the Arkansas Traveler, throwing so many contortions in its
execution that it seemed as if life liberty depended on
his exertions. The usual applause greeted him on its conclusion.
When nat Straw climbed up on the wagon wheel and
likewise whispered something to his champion, the little old weasoned

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Mendicant took his cue and cut into the Irish washerwoman
with a great flourish, and in the refrain chanted an
unintelligible gibberish like the yelping of a coyote, which the
audience so cheered that he repeated it several times. The
crowd now gathered round the wagon and clamored for the decision. And,

(15:36):
after consulting amongst ourselves some little time, and knowing that
a neutral or indefinite verdict was desired, we delegated the
bartender to announce our conclusion. Taking off his hat, he arose, and,
after requesting quietness, pretended to read our decision. Gentlemen, he began.
Your judges feel a delicacy in passing on the merits

(15:59):
of such distinguished artists. But in the first number the
decision is unanimously in favor of the darky, while the
second is clearly in favor of the white contestant. In
regard to the last test, your judges cannot reach any decision.
Has the selections rendered failed to qualify under the head
of but two shots rang out in rapid succession across

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the street, and the crowd, including the judges and fiddlers,
rushed away to witness the new excitement. The shooting had
occurred in a restaurant, and quite a mob gathered around
the door when the sheriff emerged from the building. It's
nothing said he just a couple of punchers who had
been drinking a little and were eating a snack, and

(16:44):
one of them asked for a second dish of prunes,
when the waiter got gay and told him that he
couldn't have them, that he was full of prunes now,
So the lad took a couple shots at him, just
to learn him to be more courteous to strangers. There
was no harm done, as the puncher was too unsteady.
As the crowd dispersed from the restaurant, I returned to

(17:06):
the livery stable, where Straw and several of our outfit
were explaining to the old mendicant that he had simply
outplayed his opponent and it was too bad that they
were not better posted in sacred music. Under Straw's leadership,
a purse was being made up amongst them, and the
old man's eyes brightened as he received several crisp bills

(17:28):
and a handful of silver. Straw was urging the old
fiddler to post himself in regard to sacred music and
he would get up another match for the next day.
When Rod Wheak came up and breathlessly informed the officer
and myself that the rebel wanted us over at the
Black Elephant gambling hall. As we turned to accompany him,

(17:49):
we eagerly inquired if there were any trouble. We'd informed
us there was not, but that priest was playing in
one of the biggest streaks of luck that ever happened.
Why the old man is just wallowing in velvet, said
Rod as we hurried along. And the dealer has lowered
the limit from a hundred to fifty for old Paul
is playing them as high as a cat's tack. He

(18:12):
isn't drinking a drop and is as cool as a cucumber.
I don't know what he wants with you, fellows, but
he begged me to hunt you up and send you
to him. The Black Elephant was about a block from
the Livery, and as we entered, a large crowd of
bystanders were watching the plane around one of the three
Monty games, which were running. Elbowing our way through the crowd,

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we reached my bunkie, whom officer slapped on the back
and inquired what he wanted. Why I want you and
Quirk to bet a little money for me, He replied,
My luck is with me to day, and when I
try to crowd it. This layout gets foxy and pinches
the limit down the fifty. Here, take this money and
cover both those other games. Call out as they fall

(18:58):
the layouts, and I'll pick the car to bet the
money on. And better carelessly, boys, for she's velvet. As
he spoke, he gave Officer and myself each a handful
of uncounted money, and we proceeded to carry out his instructions.
I knew the game perfectly, having spent several years earnings
on my tuition, and was past master in the technical

(19:21):
Spanish terms of the game, while Officer was equally informed.
John took the table to the right while I took
the one on the left, and waiting for a new deal,
called the cards. As they fell, I inquired the limit
of the dealer and was politely informed that it was
fifty to day. At first, our director ordered a number

(19:42):
of small bets, made as though feeling his way for
cards will turn, but as he found that old luck
was still with him, he gradually increased them to the limit.
After the first few deals, I caught on to his
favorite cards, which were the Queen and seven, and on
these we bet the limit aces and a face against

(20:04):
the Niece were also favorite bets of the rebels, but
for smaller sums. During the first hour of my playing,
to show the luck of the cards, the Queen won
five consecutive times, once against a favorite at the conclusion
of a deal. My judgment was to take up this bet,
but Priests ordered otherwise, for it was one of his principles,

(20:27):
never to doubt a card as long as it won
for you. The play had run along some time, and
as I was absorbed with watching, some one behind me
laid a friendly hand on my shoulder. Having every card
in the layout covered with a bet at the time,
and supposing it to be some of our outfit. I
never looked around when there came a slap on my back,

(20:49):
which nearly loosened my teeth. Turning to Sea who was
making so free with me when I was absorbed, my
eye fell upon my brother's zac, but I had not
time even the shake hands with him, for two cards
won in succession, and the dealer was paying me while
the Queen and seven were covered to the limit and
were yet to be drawn for When the deal ended,

(21:12):
and while the dealer was shuffling, I managed to get
a few words with my brother and learned that he
had come through with a herd belonging to one armed
Jim Reid, and that they were holding about ten miles
up the river. He had met Flood, who told him
that I was in town, but as he was working
on first guard with the herd, it was high time

(21:33):
he was writing. The dealer was waiting for me to
cut the cards, and stopping only to wring Zack's hand
in farewell, I turned again to the Monty layout. Officer
was not so fortunate, as I was, partly by reason
of delays. The dealer in his game, changing decks on
almost every deal, and under priests orders, we counted the cards.

(21:56):
With every change of the deck. A gambler would rather
burn my money then lose to a citizen, And every
hoodoo which the superstition of the craft could invoke to
turn the run of the cards was used to check us.
Several hours passed, and the lamps were lighted, but we
constantly added to the good, to the discomfiture of the

(22:17):
owners of the games. Dealers changed, but our vigilance never
relaxed for a moment. Suddenly an altercation sprang up between
Officer and the dealer of his game, the seven had
proved the most lucky card, the john, which fact was
as playing to the dealer as to the player. But
the dealer, by slipping one seven out of the pack

(22:38):
after it had been counted, which was possible in the
hands of an adept in spite of all vigilance, threw
the percentage against the favorite card and in favor of
the bank. Officer had suspected something wrong, for the seven
had been loser during several deals. When with a seven
king layout two cards of each class yet in the pack,

(23:00):
the dealer drew down until there was less than a
dozen cards left. When the king came, which lost a
fifty dollar bet on the seven, officer laid his hand
on the money, and, as was his privilege, said to
the dealer, let me look over the remainder of those cards.
If there's two sevens in there, you've won. If there isn't,

(23:21):
don't offer to touch this bet. But the gambler declined
the request. An officer repeated his demand, lay in a
blue barreled six shooter across the bet, with the remark, well,
if you expect to rake in this bet, you have
my terms. Evidently the demand would not have stood the
test for the dealer bunched the deck. Amongst the past cards,

(23:45):
an officer quietly raked in the money. When I want
a skin game, said John, as he arose, I'll come
back and see you. You saw me take this money,
did you. Well, if you've got anything to say, now's
your time to spit doubt, But his calling had made
the gambler discreet, and he deigned no reply to the

(24:05):
lank Texan, who, chafing under the attempt to cheat him,
slowly returned a six shooter to its holster. Although holding
my own in my game, I was anxious to have
it come to a close, but neither of us cared
to suggest it to the rebel it was his money.
But officer passed outside the house shortly afterwards, and soon

(24:26):
returned with Jim Flood and Nat Strong. As our foreman
approached the table at which Priest was playing, he laid
his hand on the rebel's shoulder and said, come on, Paul,
we're all ready to go to camp. Where's quirk? Priest
looked up in innocent amazement, as though he had been
awakened out of a deep sleep, for in the absorption

(24:48):
of the game he had taken no note of the
passing hours, and did not know that the lamps were burning.
My bunkie obeyed as promptly as though the orders had
been given by Don Lovell in person, and delighted with
the turn of affairs, I withdrew with him. Once in
the street, NAT's Straw threw an arm around the rebel's
neck and said to him, my dear sir, the secret

(25:11):
of successful gambling is to quit when you're a winner
and before luck turns. You may think this is a
low down trick, but were your friends, and when we
heard that you were a big winner, we were determined
to get you out of there if we had the
rope and drag you out. How much are you winner?
Before the question could be correctly answered, we sat down

(25:32):
on the sidewalk and the three of us disgorged our
winnings so that Flood and Straw could count. Priest was
the largest winner, Officer the smallest. While I never will
know the amount of mine, as I had no idea
what I started with, but the teller's report showed over
fourteen hundred dollars among the three of us. My bunkie

(25:53):
consented to allow Flood to keep it for him, and
the latter attempted to hurrah us off to camp. John
Officer protested. Hold on a minute, Jim said Officer, wearing rags,
we need some clothes. We've been in town long enough,
and we've got the price, but it's been such a
busy afternoon with us that we simply haven't had the time.

(26:15):
Straw took our part, and flood giving in, we entered
a general outfitting store, from which we emerged within a
quarter of an hour wearing cheap new suits, the color
of which we never knew until the next day. Then,
bidding Straw a hearty farewell, we rode for the north platte,
on which the herd would encamp. As we scaled the bluffs,

(26:37):
we halted for our last glimpse of the lights of Ogalalla,
and the rebel remarked, boys, I've traveled some in my life,
but that little hole back there could give Natchez under
the hill cards and spades. And then out Holder has
a tough town. End of Chapter seventeen.