ON THE RANGE WITH A RANCH FOREMAN. 



H. L. SUYDAM. 



Nash was an ideal companion for such 

 a trip. He had been on the peaks many 

 years and I was intensely interested in his 

 narratives of early days. Tefelo, the Mexi- 

 can cook, pretended not to understand me, 

 and invariably shook his head and mut- 

 tered, "Quien sabe," when I spoke to him, 

 though Nash talked his lingo like a half 

 breed. 



After Joe had fallen asleep I lay long 

 into the night thinking, for my stomach 

 was unaccustomed to being slighted at meal 

 time, and we had been deprived of our 

 "chuck" by a storm. 



"Now," I said to myself, "I am experi- 

 encing some of the hardships I have so 

 often read about," but I did not dream that 

 several years later a siege of 13 months on 

 the frozen passes to the Klondike would 

 be my lot, when this night on the plains of 

 New Mexico would be but a pleasant mem- 

 ory as compared with the rigors of winter 

 in the Arctic. However, I dozed until the 

 first break of dawn, when I got up and 

 crawled out of the tent. The storm had 

 passed over and the first rays of the sun 

 were appearing in the East, which is al- 

 ways the reveille of the active cow puncher 

 as well as the soldier. We made a hasty 

 toilet in the ditch, for the less alkali water 

 we used on our skins the better. I felt 

 stiff from my cramped position all night, as 

 I sat on my heels near the little camp fire 

 of buffalo chips, while I drank hot coffee 

 from a deep tin cup and stoked my human 

 furnace with brown beans and salt horse. 



After breakfast we started in the direc- 

 tion of the Staked Plains of Texas. As 

 we had no fresh meat in our commissary 

 box, I shot 13 young jack and cotton tail 

 rabbits for dinner. Coquina will not roast 

 me for this statement, as that was in the 

 country where I first met him, and he well 

 knows the destruction caused by these 

 rodents on the agricultural lands in the 

 vicinity. 



The sun was almost at its zenith when 

 we rounded a small hill and came in full 

 view of an antelope that was contentedly 

 grazing among a bunch of cattle. I quickly 

 dropped a rabbit I was preparing for din- 

 ner and picked up my rifle. The antelope 

 seemed undecided whether to run or not, 

 ana stared at us with its big eyes in utter 

 amazement. The cattle scarcely noticed 

 us, which reassured the game. Before we 

 were within 300 yards of the antelope it 

 ran, in a circle, keeping about the original 

 distance until it was directly abreast of us. 

 I jumped out of the wagon, dropped on one 

 knee and steadied myself for a good shot. 



The antelope stopped and gazed at me, but 

 before he could think twice I had pressed 

 the trigger. Down he went, then scrambled 

 to his feet again and started to "hit the 

 high places" at a surprising pace. His 

 right front leg was dangling from the 

 shoulder. 



"Give him another pill," shouted Nash 

 from the wagon, but I did not heed him. I 

 went after the game at full speed, thinking 

 I would soon overtake him. Before he had 

 sprinted 300 yards he fell, gave several vig- 

 orous kicks and when I reached him he 

 was dead. Several sharp cuts in the 

 ground attested how desperately he had 

 plied his pointed hoofs, even after he fell. 

 When Nash came up he put his hand on 

 my shoulder and said: 



"So you never shot an antelope before?" 



I told him that was the first one I had 

 been near enough to shoot at, and asked 

 him what he said when I jumped out of 

 the wagon. 



"I am glad you didn't hear me. I said, 

 Til bet you 5 you don't kill him,' naturally 

 expecting you would get buck ague." 



That was not my first: big game, for 

 hadn't I killed 3 or 4 bogged cattle daily 

 since I had been on the ranch ? And, be- 

 sides, while breaking broncos, hadn't the 

 boys always called me to kill a horse that 

 had broken his leg in his frantic efforts to 

 free himself from the fearless Mexican, 

 who would not desist until he himself had 

 been stunned or had a broken limb. More- 

 over, when a hog was to be butchered, 

 which was frequently on this big ranch, I 

 was called on to dispatch him with a bullet. 



Nash soon had his sheath knife into the 

 warm carcass, and we traced the bullet 

 through the shoulder and heart. It would 

 have been called a "pinwheel" shot at 

 Creedmoor. 



Not finding any water, we stopped to get 

 .dinner. A fire was soon made from buffalo 

 chips, and by cutting small green branches 

 from a mesquite bush, we made a long 

 fork, on which we strung a steak of ten- 

 derloin, then a slice of bacon, then a piece 

 of liver, then bacon, etc. One end of the 

 stick we stuck in the ground, so the meat 

 was suspended over the live coals of our 

 little fire. Perhaps the thermometer would 

 have registered 130 degrees Fahrenheit, as 

 it often did in that country, but I was as 

 contented as a king, and would not have 

 changed positions with the Sultan of 

 Turkey. I was hungry,, having been shak- 

 en desperately for 8 hours in. the buck- 

 board over prairie dog holes and alkali 

 flats, and now I was gorging myself with 



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