FORESTRY AND IRRIGATION 



January 



name; and to-day, this favored spot is 

 known as Wright's Draw, Wright's 

 Spring, and Wright's Mesa. 



In 1879, a young man, Edwin Jo- 

 seph, in search of a place to establish 

 a home, wintered here. In '81 he re- 

 turned and preempted a ranch. Then 

 he, alone, with the help of a faithful 

 horse and a saddle-cinch, dragged the 

 logs down the hill-side, and built the 

 first cabin on the mesa. At great ex- 

 pense, he had a door packed over the 

 mountain trails from Telluride. Be- 

 fore it could be hung in the precious 

 home, it was destroyed by vandals dur- 



land. Between 'So and '90 the cattle 

 could be numbered by hundreds of 

 thousands. They were owned by half 

 a dozen companies and a few individ- 

 uals. A hundred cowboys continually 

 rode the range. In '87, seventy cow- 

 boys assembled at one round-up. At 

 that time, with such a force of men, 

 the round-up usually occupied a 

 month, averaging over a thousand 

 head of cattle a day. 



But in time the cowboy relinquished 

 some of his picturesqueness and bar- 

 barity. He sold some of his cattle, 

 took a wife and a quarter section of 



Captain of the round-up 



ing a temporary absence. Not until 

 '82 could a second door be procured, 

 and the house completed. Observing 

 the incident from his point of view, 

 the trite old saying, "Such is life in 

 the wild and woolly West," comes to 

 have a deeper significance. This pion- 

 eer is simply a type of about a score 

 of men who began life in this place, 

 whose fortunes, all good, have varied 

 only in individuality. 



In the decade following the settling 

 of this home, the cowboy, brave in cha- 

 pereros, six-shooter, high-heeled boots, 

 and sombrero, placed his stamp on this 



land, and settled down to responsibil- 

 ity. By '90 the choicest bits of land 

 were taken, and each section contained 

 about four small, dirt-roofed cabins, 

 indicating the foundation of a home. 

 To-day, there are yet cattle and cow- 

 boys ; but the cattle are fewer, and the 

 cowboys more prosaic. He has lost his 

 chaps and six-shooter, the heels on his 

 boots are not so high, and even his 

 sombrero wears a more neutral tint. 

 Late in the fall of '88, a young cow- 

 boy, Guy Hurlburt, returning to the 

 mesa from Boulder County, found 

 Himself stalled in Montrose, with sev- 



