A TENDERFOOT IN A COW CAMP. 



PAUL E. VOLLUM. 



A tenderfoot's lot is a hard one, until he 

 is thoroughly broken in and becomes a 

 " flint back." 



I remember a fellow who joined our out- 

 fit, in 1883, on the Fremont trail, near the 

 Scentwater river, in Wyoming. He was a 

 dudish looking chap, who had purchased 

 his outfit, I guess, in Chambers Street, 

 New York, and his clothes from a cos- 

 tumer. He wore an imitation buckskin 

 suit, a flaring silk handkerchief, pair of 

 high-heeled boots and chaps made of a 

 blacksmith's apron. His lariat was made 

 from a sash rope and he had a saddle that 

 a good wetting would soak apart. He like- 

 wise had a rubber bed, a pillow, medicine 

 chest and other articles, that would make 

 an army pack mule tired to carry. 



He was well armed, so he thought, with 

 a 32 caliber revolver and a huge knife. 



His first horse to ride was old Bull Hook, 

 who had a nose like a Baxter Street Jew 

 and the reputation of throwing every rider 

 he came in contact with. Mr. Tenderfoot 

 climbed on old Bull Hook as he would on 

 a plow horse. When he started off, with 

 a cut of the quirt, it seemed as though his 

 saddle was charged with compressed air. 

 He landed in a heap on top of a soft brush, 

 and at once concluded. he was not cut out 

 for a bronco buster. 



All that morning he rode in the bull hide, 

 under the round up wagon. This is used 

 for carrying wood for heating the brand- 

 ing irons. 



After making camp that day, Mr. Ten- 

 derfoot remarked that he was tired and 

 would take a nap. He soon got to work, 

 filling his bed with air, and when he fin- 

 ished his task the bed did look comfortable, 

 and he was soon sound asleep. 



One of the boys coming along with a 

 U. T. branding iron, stopped and put a 

 brand on it; so in case it got astray one 

 of the outfit would know it on the next 

 round up. The bed was a wreck as soon as 

 the hot iron touched it. Mr. Tenderfoot 



had fire in his eyes and would have done 

 some gunning, if he had dared. 



We were camped near Cottonwood, on 

 the Scentwater river, and had finished up 

 branding in that locality and intended mov- 

 ing down the river next day. One of the 

 boys suggested we move tnat night, as soon 

 as Mr. Tenderfoot was asleep, and have a 

 little more fun with him. The saddle horses 

 were unsaddled by this time, and after a 

 hard, deep ride or branding, when supper 

 is over, one is generally ready to go to 

 sleep, and remain so till the cook calls to 

 breakfast. 



xAiter Mr. Tenderfoot was sound asleep 

 all packed up their blankets, put them in 

 the wagon, saddled their horses and lit out, 

 except one of the punchers. He took Mr. 

 Tenderfoot's saddle and bridle, climbed to 

 the top of the cottonwood tree, and, com- 

 ing down, cut off every limb. Tying a 

 horse to the tree, he followed the others, 

 leaving Mr. Tenderfoot in his glory, fast 

 asleep, dreaming of busting broncos, rop- 

 ing cattle and scalping Indians. 



We travelled 10 miles and then camped. 

 After breakfast we went to work rounding 

 up cattle for branding and cutting out. 



Later in the day Mr. Tenderfoot made 

 his appearance, and told of his attempts to 

 regain his saddle and bridle. He said he 

 had climbed up and slid down the tree till 

 he became exhausted, and, after resting, 

 and with renewed vigor and the aid of his 

 lariat, he would climb up and then take a 

 hitch around the tree. Finally, little by 

 little, he gained the top and cut his saddle 

 down. 



We all felt a little sorry for the fellow, 

 and when he sent into Rawlings, by the 

 stage driver, for 5 gallons of the " best," 

 we soon saw he was thawing out, and we 

 decided to devil him no longer. 



He really turned out. after a few years, 

 a splendid rider, good roper, excellent shot, 

 and a royal good fellow, and owns one of 

 the best ranches on the Scentwater. 



Mistress — Didn't the ladies who called 

 leave cards? 



Bridget — They wanted to, ma'am, but I 

 told them you had plenty of your own, and 

 better, too. — Truth. 



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