20 - The Log of a Cowboy: A Moonlight Drive

Episode Transcript

Speaker 1 (00:00):
Chapter twenty of The Log of a Cowboy by Andy Adams.
This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. A moonlight drive.
The two herds were held together a second night, but
after they had grazed a few hours. The next morning
the cattle were thrown together and the work of cutting

(00:22):
out ours commenced. With a double outfit of men available,
About twenty men were turned into the herd to do
the cutting, the remainder holding the main herd and looking
after the cut. The morning was cool, everyone worked with
a vim, and in about two hours the herds were
again separated and ready for the final trimming. Campbell did

(00:46):
not expect to move out until he could communicate with
the head office of the company, and would go up
to Fort Laramie for that purpose during the day, hoping
to be able to get a message over the military wire.
When his outfit had finished retrimming our herd and we
had looked over his cattle for the last time, the
two outfits bayed each other farewell, and our herd started

(01:10):
on its journey. The unfortunate accident at the ford had
depressed our feelings to such an extent that there was
an entire absence of hilarity by the way. This morning,
the farewell songs generally used in parting with a river
which had befied us, were omitted. The herd trailed out

(01:32):
like an immense serpent, and was guided and controlled by
our men as if by mutes. Long before the noon
hour we passed out of sight of forty islands, and
in the next few days, with the change of scene,
the gloom gradually lifted. We were bearing almost due north
and passing through a delightful country. To our left ran

(01:56):
a range of mountains, while on the other hand sloped
off the apparently limitless plain. The scarcity of water was
beginning to be felt, for the streams, which had not
a source in the mountains on our left, had dried
up weeks before our arrival. There was a gradual change
of air, noticeable too, for we were rapidly gaining altitude,

(02:19):
and the heat of the summer being now confined to
a few hours at noonday, while the nights were almost
too cool for our comfort. When about three days out
from the North Platte, the mountains disappeared on our left,
while on the other hand appeared a rugged looking country
which we knew must be the approaches of the Black Hills.

(02:41):
Another day's drive brought us into the main stage road,
connecting the railroad on the south with the mining camps
which nestled somewhere in those rocky hills to our right.
The stage road followed the trail for some ten or
fifteen miles before we parted company with it on a
dry fork of the Big Cheyenne River. There was a

(03:02):
road house and a stage stand where these two thoroughfares separated,
the one to the mining camp of Deadwood, while ours
of the Montana Cattle trail bore off for the Powder
River to the northwest. At this stage stand we learned
that some twenty herds had already passed by to the
northern Ranges, and that after passing the next fork of

(03:26):
the Big Cheyenne, we should find no water until we
struck the Powder River, a stretch of eighty miles. The
keeper of the road house, a genial host, informed us
that this droughty stretch in our front was something unusual,
this being one of the driest summers that he had
experienced since the discovery of gold in the Black Hills.

(03:50):
Here was a new situation to be met. An eighty
mile dry drive, and with our experience of a few
months before at Indian Lakes fresh in our memories, we
set our house in order for the undertaking. Before us,
it was yet fifteen miles to the next and last
water from the stage stand. There were several dry forks

(04:11):
of the Cheyenne beyond, but as they had their source
in the table lands of Wyoming, we could not hope
for water in their dry bottoms. The situation was serious.
With only this encouragement, other herds had crossed this arid
belt since the streams had dried up, and our circle
dots could walk with any herd that ever left Texas.

(04:35):
The wisdom of mounting us well for just such an
emergency reflected the good cow sense of our employer, and
we felt easy in regard to our amounts, though there
was not a horse or a man too many. In
summing up the situation, Flood said, We've got this advantage
over the Indian Lake drive. There is a good moon

(04:56):
and the days are cool. We'll make twenty five miles
day covering this stretch. As this herd has never been
put to a test yet to see how far they
could walk in a day, they'll have to do their
sleeping at noon, at least cut it into two shifts,
and if we get any sleep, we'll have to do
the same. Let her come as she will. Every day's

(05:18):
drive is a day nearer the Blackfoot Agency. We made
a dry camp that night on the divide between the
road house and the last water, and the next forenoon
reached the south fork of the Big Cheyenne. The water
was not even running in it, but there were several
long pools, and we held the cattle around them for

(05:39):
over an hour until every hoof had been thoroughly watered.
Mc cann had filled every keg and canteen in advance
of the arrival of the herd and flood had exercised
sufficient caution in view of what lay before us to
buy an extra keg and a bull's eye lantern at
the road house watering. We trailed out some four or

(06:02):
five miles and camped for noon, but the herd were
allowed to graze forward until they lay down for their
noonday rest. As the herd passed opposite the wagon, we
cut out a fat two year old stray heifer and
killed her for beef, for the inner man must be
fortified for the journey. Before us After a two hours siesta,

(06:25):
we threw the herd on the trail and started on
our way. The wagon and saddle horses were held in
our immediate rear, for there was no telling when or
where we would make our next halt of any consequence.
We trailed and grazed the herd alternately until near evening,
when the wagon was sent on ahead about three miles
to get supper, while half the outfit went along to

(06:48):
change mounts and catch up horses for those remaining behind
with the herd. A half hour before the usual bedding time,
the relieved men returned and took the grazing herd, and
the others rode into the wagon for supper and a
change of mounts. While we shifted our saddles, we smelled
the savory odor of fresh beef frying. Listen to that

(07:12):
good old beef talking, will you, said Joe Stallings, as
he was bridling his horse the can. I'll take my
carne fresco, a trifle rare to night, garnished with a
sprig of parsley and a wee bit of lemon. Before
we had finished supper, Honeyman had rehooked the mules to
the wagon while the Ramuda was at hand to follow.

(07:34):
Before we left the wagon, a full moon was rising
on the eastern horizon, and as we were starting out,
Flood gave us these general directions. I'm going to take
the lead with the cook's lantern, and one of you
rearmen take the new bull's eye. We'll throw the herd
on the trail, and between the lead and the rear light.

(07:56):
You swingman want to ride well outside, and you pointman
want to hold the lead cattle, so the rear will
never be more than a half a mile behind. I'll
admit that this is somewhat of an experiment with me,
but I don't see any good reason why she won't work.
After the moon gets another hour high, we can see
a quarter of a mile and the cattle are so

(08:18):
well trail broke that they'll never try to scatter. If
it works all right, we'll never bed them short of midnight,
and that will put us ten miles farther. Let's ride, lads.
By the time the herd was eased back on the trail,
our evening camp fire had been passed while the cattle
led out as if walking on a wager. After the

(08:41):
first mile on the trail, the men on the point
were compelled to ride in the lead if we were
to hold them within the desired half mile. The men
on the other side or the swing, were gradually widening,
until the herd must have reached fully a mile in length.
Yet we swing riders were never out of sight of
each other. It would have been impossible for any cattle

(09:03):
to leave the herd unnoticed. In that moonlight, the trail
was as plain as day, and after an hour Flood
turned his lantern over to one of the pointmen and
rode back around the herd to the rear. From my
position that first night, near the middle of the swing,
the lanterns both rear and forward being always in sight,

(09:24):
I was as much at sea as any one as
to the length of the herd, knowing the deceitfulness of
distance of camp fires and other lights by night. The
foreman appealed to me as he rode down the column
to know the length of the herd, But I could
give him no more than a simple guess. I could
assure him, however, that the cattle had made no effort

(09:46):
to drop out and leave the trail. But a short
time after he passed me, I noticed a horseman galloping
up the column on the opposite side of the herd,
and knew it must be the foreman. Within a short time,
some one in the lead wig wagged his lantern. It
was answered by the light in the rear, and the
next minute the old rear song Lippy Lago, go along,

(10:12):
little doggie, you'll make a beef. Steer by and by
reached us riders in the swing, and we knew the
rear guard of cattle was being pushed forward. The distance
between the swing men gradually narrowed in our lead, from
which we could tell the leaders were being held in
until several times cattle grazed out from the herd due

(10:33):
to the checking in front. At this juncture, Flood galloped
around the herd a second time, and as he passed
us riding along our side, I appealed to him to
let them go in front, as it now required constant
riding to keep the cattle from leaving the trail to graze.
When he passed up the other side, I could distinctly

(10:53):
hear the men on that flank making a similar appeal,
and shortly afterwards the herd loosened out and we struck
our old gait for several hours. Trailing by moonlight was
a novelty to all of us, and in the stillness
of those splendid July nights, we could hear the pointmen

(11:13):
chattering across the lead in front, while well in the rear,
the rattling of our heavily loaded wagon and the whistling
of the horse wrangler to his charges reached our ears.
The swingmen were scattered so far apart there was no
chance for conversation amongst us, but every once in a
while a song would be started, and as it surged

(11:35):
up and down the line, every voice, good, bad and
indifferent joined in. Singing is supposed to have a soothing
effect on cattle, though I will vouch for the fact
that none of our circle dots stopped that night to
listen to our vocal efforts. The herd was traveling so
nicely that our foreman hardly noticed the passing hours. But

(11:57):
along about midnight the singing ceased, and we were nodding
in our saddles and wondering if they and the lead
were never going to throw off the trail, when a
great wig wagging occurred in front, and presently we overtook
the rebel holding the lantern and turning the herd out
of the trail. It was then after midnight, and within

(12:17):
another half hour we had the cattle bed it down
within a few hundred yards of the trail. One hour
guards was the order of the night, and as soon
as our wagon and saddle horses came up, we stretched
ropes and caught out our night horses. These we either
tied to the wagon wheels or picket it near at hand,
and then we sought our blankets for a few hours sleep.

(12:41):
It was half past three in the morning when our
guard was called, and before the hour passed the first
signs of day were visible in the east. But even
before our watch had ended, flood and the last guard
came to our relief, and we pushed the sleeping cattle
off the bed ground and started them grazing forward. Cattle

(13:01):
will not graze freely in a heavy dew or too
early in the morning, and before the sun was high
enough to dry the grass, we had put several miles
behind us. When the sun was about an hour high,
the remainder of the outfit overtook us, and shortly afterward
the wagon and saddle horses passed on up the trail,

(13:22):
from which it was evident that breakfast would be served
in the dining car ahead. As the traveled priest aptly
put it, after the sun was well up. The cattle
grazed freely for several hours, but when we sighted the
rimuta and our commissary some two miles in our lead
flood ordered the herd lined up for a count. The

(13:43):
rebel was always a reliable counter, and he and the
foreman now rode forward and selected the crossing of a
dry wash for the counting. On receiving their signal to
come on, we allowed the herd to graze slowly forward
but gradually, pointing them into an immense and as the
point of the herd crossed the dry arroyo, we compelled

(14:05):
them to pass in a narrow file between the two counters.
When they again spread out fan like and continued their feeding,
the count confirmed the success of our driving by night,
and on its completion, all but two men rode to
the wagon for breakfast. By the time the morning meal
was disposed of, the herd had come up parallel with

(14:28):
the wagon but a mile to the westward, and as
fast as fresh mouse could be saddled, we rode away
in small squads to relieve the herders and to turn
the cattle into the trail. It was but a little
after eight o'clock in the morning when the herd was
again trailing out on the Powder River trail, and we
had already put thirty miles of the dry drive behind us.

(14:51):
While so far neither horse nor cattle had been put
to any extra exertion. The wagon followed as usual, and
for over three hours we held the trail without a break.
When sighting a divide in our front, the foreman went
back and sent the wagon around the herd with instructions
to make the noon camp well up. On the divide.

(15:13):
We threw the herd off the trail within a mile
of this stopping place and allowed them to graze, while
two thirds of our outfit galloped away to the wagon.
We allowed the cattle to lie down and rest to
their complete satisfaction until the middle of the afternoon. Meanwhile,
all hands, with the exception of two men on herd,

(15:34):
also lay down and slept in the shade of the wagon.
When the cattle had had several hours sleep, the want
of water made them restless, and they began to rise
and graze away then all hands were aroused, and we
threw them upon the trail. The heat of the day
was already over, and until the twilight of the evening

(15:56):
we trailed a three mile clip, and again threw the
herd off toys. By our traveling and grazing gates, we
could form an approximate idea as to the distance we
had covered, and the consensus of opinion of all was
that we had already killed over half the distance. The
herd was beginning to show the want of water by evening,

(16:18):
but amongst our saddle horses, the lack of water was
more noticeable, as a horse subsisting on grass alone weakens easily,
and riding them made them all the more gaunt. When
we caught up our mounts that evening, we had used
eight horses to the man since we had left the
south fork, and another one would be required at midnight

(16:40):
or whenever we halted. We made our drive the second
night with more confidence than the one before, But there
were times when the train of cattle must have been
nearly two miles in length. Yet there was never a halt,
as long as the man with the lead light could
see the one in the rear. At the herd about midnight,

(17:02):
and at first break of day, the fourth guard with
the foreman, joined our watch and we started the cattle again.
There was a light dew the second night, and the cattle,
hungered by their night walk, went to grazing at once
on the damp grass, which would allay their thirst slightly.
We allowed them to scatter over several thousand acres, for

(17:25):
we were anxious to graze them well before the sun
absorbed the moisture. But at the same time, every step
they took was one less to the coveted Powder River.
When we had grazed the herd forward several miles and
the sun was nearly an hour high, the wagon failed
to come up, which caused our foreman some slight uneasiness.

(17:48):
Nearly another hour passed and still the wagon did not
come up, nor did the outfit put in an appearance.
Soon afterwards, however, Moss Strayhorn overtook us and reported that
over forty of our saddle horses were missing, while the
work mules had been overtaken nearly five miles back on
the trail. On account of my ability as a trailer,

(18:11):
flood at once despatched me to assist Honeyman in recovering
the missing horses, instructing some one else to take the
ramuda and the wagon and horses to follow up the herd.
By the time I arrived, most of the boys at
camp had secured a change of horses, and I caught
up my grula that I was saving for the last
hard ride for the horse hunt which confronted us. Ma can,

(18:36):
having no fire built, gave Honeyman and myself an impromptu
breakfast and two canteens of water. But before we let
the wagon get away, we rustled a couple cans of
tomatoes and buried them in a cache near the campground,
where we would have no trouble in finding them on
our return. As the wagon pulled out, we mounted our

(18:56):
horses and rode back down the trail. Billy Honeyman understood
horses and at once volunteered the belief that we would
have a long ride overtaking the missing saddle stock. The
absent horses, he said, were principally the ones which had
been under saddle the day before, and as we both knew,

(19:17):
a tired, thirsty horse will go miles for water. He
recalled also that while we were asleep at noon the
day before, twenty miles back on the trail, the horses
had found quite a patch of wild sorrel plant and
were foolish over leaving it, both of us being satisfied
that this would hold them for several hours at least,

(19:39):
we struck a free gait for it. After we passed
the point where the mules had been overtaken, the trail
of the horses was distinct enough for us to follow
in an easy canter. We saw frequent signs that they
left the trail no doubt to graze, but only for
short distances, when they would enter it again and keep
it for miles. Shortly before noon, we gained the divide

(20:03):
above our noon camp of the day before, and there,
about two miles distance, we saw our missing horses feeding
over an alkali flat on which grew wild sorrel and
other species of sour plants. We rounded them up, and,
finding none missing, we first secured a change of mounts.

(20:23):
The only two horses of my mount in this portion
of the Ramuda had both been under saddle the afternoon
and night before and were as gaunt as rails. Honeyman
had one unused horse off his mount in the hand
so when taking down our ropes, we halted the horses
and began riding slowly around them, forcing them into a

(20:44):
compact body. I had my eye on a brown horse
of floods that had not had a saddle on in
a week, and told Billy to fasten to him if
he got a chance. This was in violation of all custom,
but if the foreman kicked, I had a good excuse
to offer. Honeyman was left handed and threw a rope splendidly,

(21:07):
and as we circled around the horses on opposite sides,
on signal from him, we whirled our lariats and made
casts simultaneously. The wrangler fastened to the brown I wanted,
and my loop saddled around the neck of his unridden horse.
As the band broke away from our swinging ropes, a
number of them ran afoul of my rope, but I

(21:29):
gave the rowel to my grolla and we shook them off.
When I returned the Honeyman, we had exchanged horses and
were shifting our saddles. I complimented him on the long
throw he had made in catching the brown, and incidentally
mentioned that I had read of the carrows in California
who used a sixty five foot lariat. Hell, said Billy,

(21:53):
in ridicule of the idea. There wasn't a man ever
born who could throw a sixty five foot ropes full
length without he threw it down a well. The sun
was straight overhead when we started back to overtake the herd.
We struck into a little better than a five mile
gait on the return trip, and about two o'clock sighted

(22:13):
a band of saddle horses and a wagon camped perhaps
a mile forward and to the side of the trail.
On coming near enough, we saw at a glance it
was a cow outfit, And after driving our loose horses
a good push beyond their camp, we turned and rode
back to their wagon. We'll give them a chance to
ask us to eat, said Billy to me. And if

(22:35):
they don't, why they'll miss a hell of a good
chance to entertain hungry men. But the foreman with the
stranger wagon proved to be a Bee County, Texan, and
our doubts did him an injustice, for although dinner was over,
he invited us to dismount and ordered his cook to
set out something to eat. They had met our wagon,

(22:56):
and mc cann had insisted on their taking a quarter
of our beef, so we fared well. The outfit was
from a ranch near Miles City, Montana, and were going
down to receive a herd of cattle at Cheyenne, Wyoming.
The cattle had been bought at Ogalalla for delivery at
the former point, and this wagon was going down with

(23:16):
their ranch outfit to take the herd. On its arrival,
they had brought along about seventy five saddle horses from
the ranch, though in buying the herd they had taken
its rimuta of over a hundred saddle horses. The foremen
informed us that they had met our cattle about the
middle of the forenoon, nearly twenty five miles out from

(23:37):
Powder River. After we had satisfied the inner man, we
lost no time getting off as we could see a
long ride ahead of us. But we had occasion as
we rode away to go through their remuda to cut
out a few of our horses which had mixed, and
I found I knew over a dozen of their horses
by the ranch brands, while honeymen also recognized quite a few.

(24:01):
Though we felt a pride in our mounts, we had
to admit that theirs were better, for the effect of
climate had transformed horses that we had once ridden on
ranches in southern Texas. It does seem incredible, but it
is a fact nevertheless, that a horse, having reached the
years of maturity in a southern climate will grow half

(24:21):
a hand taller and carry two hundred pounds more flesh
when he has undergone the rigors of several northern winters.
We halted at our night camp to change horses and
to unearth our cash tomatoes, and again set out. By
then it was so late in the day that the
sun had lost its force, and on this last leg

(24:43):
in overtaking the herd, we increased our gait steadily until
the sun was scarcely an hour high, and yet we
never sighted a dust cloud in our front. About sundown,
we called a few minutes halt, and, after eating our
tomatoes and drinking the last of our water, a again
pushed on. Twilight had faded in the dusk before we

(25:04):
reached the divide, which we had had in sight for
several hours, and which we had hoped to gain in
time to sight the timber on Powder River before dark.
But as we put mile after mile behind us. The
divide seemed to move away like a mirage, and the
evening star had been shining for an hour before we
finally reached it and sighted instead of Powder's timber, the

(25:28):
camp fire of our outfit, about five miles ahead. We
fired several shots on seeing the light, in hope that
they might hear us in camp and wait. Otherwise, we
knew they would start the herd with the rising of
the moon. When we finally reached camp about nine o'clock
at night, everything was in readiness to start, the moon

(25:50):
having risen sufficiently. Our shooting, however, had been heard, and
horses for a change were tied to the wagon wheels,
while the remainder of the Ramuda was under heard in
charge of broad wheat. The runaways were thrown into the
horse herd while we bolted our suppers. Meantime, the can
informed us that Flood had ridden that afternoon to the

(26:12):
Powder River in order to get the lay of the land.
He had found it to be ten or twelve miles
distant from the present camp, and the water in the
river barely knee deep to a saddle horse. Beyond it
was a fine valley before we started flood, rode in
from the herd and said the honeyman, I'm going to
send the horses and wagon ahead to night, and you

(26:35):
and Ma can want to camp on this side of
the river, under the hill and just a few hundred
yards below the ford. Throw your saddle horses across the
river and build a fire before you go to sleep,
so we will have a beacon light to pilot us
in in case the cattle break into a run. On
scenting the water. The herd will get in a little

(26:56):
after midnight, and after crossing we'll turn her loose, just
for luck. It did me good to hear the foreman
say that the herd was to be turned loose, for
I had been in the saddle since three that morning
and had ridden over eighty miles and now had ten
more in sight, while honeymen would complete the day with
over a hundred to his credit. We let the Ramuda

(27:19):
take the lead in pulling out so that the wagon
mules could be spurred to their utmost in keeping up
with the loose horses. Once they were clear of the herd,
we let the cattle into the trail. They had refused
to bed down, for they were uneasy with thirst, but
the cool weather had saved them any serious suffering. We

(27:40):
all felt gala as the herds strung out on the
trail before we halted again. There would be water for
our dumb brutes and rest for ourselves. There was lots
of singing that night, there's one more river to cross,
and roll powder roll were wafed out on the air

(28:00):
to the coyotes that howled on our flanks, or to
the prairie dogs as they peeped from their burrows at
this weird caravan of the night, and the lights which
flickered in our front and rear must have been real
jack o lanterns or will of the wisps to these
occupants of the plane. Before we had covered half the distance,
the herd was strung out over two miles, and as

(28:23):
Flood rode back to the rear every half hour or so,
he showed no inclination to check the lead and give
the sore footed rear guard a chance to close up
the column. But about an hour before midnight, we saw
a light low down in our front, which gradually increased
until the tree tops were distinctly visible, and we knew

(28:45):
that our wagon had reached the river. On sighting the speaking,
the long yell went up and down the column, and
the herd walked as only long legged, thirsty Texas cattle
can walk. When they scent water flood hauled all the
swingmen to the rear, and we threw out a half
circle skirmish line, covering a mile in width, so far

(29:07):
back that only an occasional glimmer of the lead light
could be seen. The trail struck the powder on an angle,
and when within a mile of the river, the swing
cattle left the deep trodden paths and started for the
nearest water. The left flank of our skirmish line encountered
the cattle as they reached the river and prevented them

(29:28):
from drifting up the stream. The pointmen abandoned the leaders
when within a few hundred yards of the river. Then
the rear guard of cripples and sore footed cattle came up,
and the two flanks of horsemen pushed them all across
the river until they met When we turned and galloped
in the camp, making the night hideous. With our yelling,

(29:49):
the longest dry drive of the trip had been successfully made,
and we all felt jubulant. We stripped bridles and saddles
from our tired horses, and unrolling our beds, were soon
lost in well earned sleep. The stars may have twinkled overhead,
and sundry voices of the night may have whispered to
us as we lay down the sleep, But we were

(30:11):
too tired for poetry or sentiment that night. End of
Chapter twenty