My Trip Out West: A True Adventure from 1873 (Part 3 of 4)

In the days of Noah, when the lifespan was nearly a thousand years, many generations could share stories about what it was like when they grew up.  Today, it is rare to go back even a hundred years.  Our own family has a true-life adventure story from 1873, when my great-great grandfather decided as a young man to see the Old West while it was still wild, and buffalo still roamed the plains.  Here is Part Three of the letter he wrote to my father in 1931.

BEAR HUNTING

But two weeks after that the Sheriff of Collins and a couple of his friends from Missouri that came to visit him were going up into the mountains Bear hunting, and wanted me to go along, so I did.  We went 15 or 20 miles beyond this Cloud’s sawmill.  The second day we were there (it was on a Friday), we got in sight of two Bears playing with each other at the foot of a mountain in a little Park.  So, we maneuvered around until we thought we were where the Bear ought to be.  There was quite a patch of poplar brush at the foot of the mountain.  We were thinking the Bears had gotten away, when all at once out of the brush they went and started up the mountain.  Mr. Yelton fired first and I followed. One bear dropped its hind part, turned around, and came for us.  One of the Missourians had partly gotten through the brush just as the Bear was about to enter in on the opposite side.  He had a shotgun loaded with buckshot, and he let the bear have it in the face.  It stopped the Bear for a moment.  It gave the man a chance to get back to where we were, as the Bear came through on our side.  Yelton gave it a bullet back of the ear.  That ended the fight: it was a big one, but I don’t remember what it weighed.  The next day we hunted until noon, but saw no more Bear.  So, we drove back as far as the Saw Mill and camped for that night. 

A CRACK SHOT AGAIN!

Had breakfast with Mr. Cloud Sunday morning, but after breakfast as soon as the Mill crew saw me, they said, Ah, here is the Fellow that made the Bulls Eye.  Let’s see if he can do it again, seeing that he has his own gun.  So, nothing would do but I must shoot.  Well, I got up on top of the lumber pile again, took good aim, and let her go; the result was another Bulls Eye.  Then the Fellow yelled, You can’t do that again, so there was no getting out of it.  I had to shoot again.  What was the result? Another Bulls Eye.  Then the Fellow said, I tell you what I’ll do.  I’ll try you out on Revolver shooting, seeing that you have one.  He got his Revolver, made a mark on the end of a log, then fired a shot, and hit six inches above the mark.  Then I shot.  My hit too was high, but my bullet hole was right beside his.  Then he shot again.  That time his ball was six inches below the mark.  Then it was my turn to shoot.  I too shot low, but my ball was right beside his again.  He put his Revolver in his pocket, went into the Bunk House, and that’s the last I saw or heard from him, until the next day when Deck Cloud came to Collins.  Monday morning, he told me what the man said.  He said: “It’s no use shooting against that Fellow.  You know what he done?  Shot at my bullet-holes, and I’ll be darned if he didn’t hit them, too.”  So, you see I made a reputation for myself, and didn’t know it.

THE WATERMELON INCIDENT

Along in the summer, when the watermelons were getting ripe, our mouths began to water to have one, but there weren’t any just around Collins.  But down the river 15 miles we heard about a company named Abott & Eaton that had so many melons they didn’t know what to do with them.  So another Batching outfit joined in with us, and with a team of horses and wagons, six of us went down to the Ranch intending to buy some.  A mile before we got to the Ranch we saw along the bank of an irrigating ditch, Watermelons as far as we could see.  We drove to within a quarter of a mile of the house.  It stood behind a little hill and could not be seen from where our wagon stood.  We drove to within a quarter of a mile of the house.  It stood behind a little hill and could not be seen from where our wagon stood.  Then two walked over to the house while the other boys were loading the wagon as fast as they could. 

When me and the other fellow (his name was Ed V. Brunt) got to the Ranch house, we found three or four men sitting on the shady side of the house.  We told them we had come down from Collins and wanted to know if we could get a few watermelons.  They said, Sure; go and eat all you want.  We offered them a Dollar, knowing darn well they wouldn’t take it, but Ed thought it would help to clear our conscience, knowing that by that time the boys would have the wagon filled.  Sure enough, when we got back, the wagon box was so heaped with melons there wasn’t any place to sit.  Then we sat down on the bank of the irrigating ditch and ate until we couldn’t eat any more.  Besides having the wagon box filled with watermelons we had four gunnysacks filled with Sugar Melons.  On the way home, every once in a while a melon would bust open, and it was up to us not to let any go to waste.         

SHARING THE LOOT

When we got back to Collins it was beginning to get dark.  We stopped at our shack first and unloaded half of the load.  Then on the way to the other shack the horses got frightened at a big piece of paper that the wind was blowing along the street, and ran away, tipped over the wagon and scattered the Watermelons all over the street.  The people that were along the street helped to stop the runaway horse and when they saw the Watermelons they wanted to know where he had gotten them.  He told them all about our trip to Abott & Eaton’s Ranch and that half of the load had been unloaded at our shack.  That gave the whole thing away, and it wasn’t more than ten minutes before our shack was filled with most of the young and old men of Collins, begging for a slice of melon.  Our unfortunate partner came over to our shack and told us what had happened to him.  (His name was Tex. That’s all we knew him by).  So, we got a couple of Wheelbarrows and carted a few loads over to the other shack. 

BUYING OR STEALING?

At our shack the bunch ate Melons until about ten o’clock.  We had a table in our kitchen up near a window with one light broken out.  As soon as a fellow got through with his piece of melon he would slide the rind through this opening in the window.  Then the question arose:  Did we buy those melons or did we steal them? That was the question.  So, we elected a Judge and Jury, and chose sides.  Each side chose its attorney (and mind you, we had some pretty wise guys among the bunch).  Every evening the Judge would take his chair and listen to the lawyers cross question the witnesses (and did we have fun).  The trouble was, the jury invariably agreed to disagree.  The case was carried along for about three weeks (and I doubt whether the case is settled yet).  One thing I am sure of, and that is that the jury saw to it that the melons were all eaten. 

           

EVIDENCE EATEN

Before there was any chance of settling the case, even the melon rinds were eaten up by our neighbor’s cow.  As long as there were any rinds by the window on the ground the cow would come after dark and help herself.  During the daytime our big Bull Dog would keep her away.  At night we used to keep the Dog in the house.  The cow would never come around in the daytime or at night when the bunch were making so much noise, but after they had gone, which was usually after eleven or near midnight.  Then she would get a big mouth full and raise her head (which brought her nose close to that hole in the window).  It made the Dog mad to hear her eat, so he would jump up on the table and try to grab her nose.

Next Time: Buffalo Hunting; Conclusion of His True Adventure