Ranch Life loi 



a man in search of what is technically called 

 "trouble" can find it on the Pacific Slope very 

 quickly ; the man who minds his own business and 

 keeps a civil tongue in his head is as safe in the 

 wildest parts of the West as he would be in Lon- 

 don — perhaps safer. Looking back, I can recall 

 many deeds of violence : men stabbed or shot in 

 drunken brawls, stage-coaches " held up " and robbed, 

 trains stopped and looted, banks sacked, and so forth, 

 not to mention the horse and cattle thieves who 

 used to infest our part of Southern California. But 

 to-day, you will find few desperadoes, and those few, 

 like the rattlesnakes, live in the brush hills far from 

 telephone and telegraph. In the '80*s it was not 

 uncommon to meet the knights of the road at 

 the taverns and saloons just outside the towns. 

 In our county, during my time, the infamous 

 Dalton gang of train-robbers owned a small ranch 

 not far from ours. The notorious Black Bart has 

 been pointed out to me. This gentleman always 

 worked alone. Wearing a long black mask, he 

 would not hesitate to "hold up" a stage-coach. 

 When he had robbed the passengers, whom he 

 paraded in line, he would politely request them 

 to remount and be gone. Then he would pin to 

 the trunk of a neighbouring tree a copy of verses, 

 commemorating the event in quaint English, and 

 signed by himself. I was given to understand that 

 Black Bart was even prouder of his " poetry " than 

 of his exploits as highwayman. 



But even to-day, young Englishmen settling upon 

 cattle ranches on the Pacific Slope would do well 

 to mind what company they keep. I remember 



