Dec. 35, 1S90.J 



He introduced them as "Ole Blackbird squaw and he 

 gal; pooty young squaw— great medicine." 



The elder of the two was about as tough, leathery-look- 

 ing a specimen of aboriginal ugliness as I have ever 

 fallen in with, and making due allowance for difference 

 in age the daughter was the perfect moral of her. They 

 both cast their loads unceremoniously aside and the elder 

 proceeded at once to business. Watching me closely as 

 she did so she rolled a large handful of leaves in her hand 

 until they were partially pulverized, then passed them 

 over to the younger squaw who soon made a pint of 

 very bitter tea from tbem which I was told to drink. I 

 managed to gulp it down, hot and bitter as it was, and 

 the old squaw then seized me without ceremony, packed 

 me snugly in bearskin and blankets, after which she 

 and her daughter, wrapping their own blankets about 

 them, lay down on either side of me, crowding me in a 

 manner more close than pleasant. 



'Tis written in the Hebrew chronicle: 



"How the physicians, leaving piil and potion, 

 Prescribed, by way of blister, a young belle, 

 When old King David's blood grew dull in motion. 

 And that the medicine answered very well." 



I trust King David's medicine, which answered the pur- 

 pose so well, was not a squaw — or, if she were, that she 

 was young and good looking. 



My leathery belles, however, answered to help get up a 

 copious perspiration, which was just what they intended, 

 and when I awoke from the first sound refreshing sleep 

 I bad enjoyed for weeks it was with a cool, clear head and 

 limbs free from pain. 



With the rise of the sun the confounded ague began to 

 threaten me, and Mrs. Blackbird, with the help of her 

 interesting daughter proceeded to take measures for ex- 

 pelling it in a manner quite as novel and original as her 

 treatment of fever. First, she undid a bundle of dirty 

 blue cloth, and took therefrom several bundles of neatly 

 bound, minute twigs. I had heard some hard stories of 

 "whippin' out the ager," and smelt a pretty extensive 

 mice immediately; but on the whole concluded to go 

 through, so I suffered them to divest me of my clothing 

 and seize me firmly by the wrists, and made no" objection 

 even when Mrs. Blackbird began to apply the switches 

 gently to the bare skin. Gradually the blows increased 

 in rapidity and severity: old Peter, who had stood by as 

 spectator at first, stepped forward and seized a wrist 

 firmly in each hand, so suddenly that I had no time to 

 object; and the whipping immediately became energetic 

 and general. Each of the squaws with a switch in each 

 hand vied with the other in rapidity of bitting, and, as 

 the sluggish, torpid blood strove to dash with answering 

 speed through the tingling veins the pain became unen- 

 durable. I had resolved to bear all that was asked of me 

 in hope of a radical cure, but the torture was too severe; 

 and 1 ordered them to desist, trying at the same time to 

 wrench myself loose from Peter." They only laughed and 

 laid on the harder. I became mad with pain and went 

 in on my muscle, biting and butting furiously at old Peter 

 and giving the leathery females ungallant kicks about the 

 ribs and abdomen — a proceeding that made them laugh 

 all the more, and brought down the switches with in- 

 creased vigor. I entreated and cursed by turns, tried 

 bribery and flattery, begged for a resting spell, and 

 threatened death to the party of conspirators immediately 

 I got loose, but all in vain. They flogged me for a time 

 that seemed an age, and only let me off when I was too 

 exhausted to stand alone. Then I was again enveloped in 

 skins ancl blankets, when, strange as it may seem, I al- 

 most ininiedLately fell into a deep slumber from which I 

 did not awake until evening. When I did awake it was 

 with a general sense of soreness all over the outer man; 

 but where was the ague? Gone. Completely cured, as 

 well as the fever, although I had some slight returns of 

 the latter occasionally, which always yielded to Indian 

 treatment, however. 



COWBOY REMINISCENCES. 



p AYMOND BROOKS, my cowboy "pardner," and I 

 JA> were just back from a long trail drive that had led 

 us by weary stages hundreds of miles from the home 

 ranch. We had crossed the plains of Texas, been through 

 Kansas and, pressing our way still further north, had 

 reached the grand land of Montana, where our herd of 

 2,500 jaded cattle were delivered to the buyers and the 

 outfit disbanded, some to remain where chance had led 

 them and others, among whom were Ray and I, to re- 

 turn by way of the railroad home. 



We had seen the usual number of vicissitudes, had had 

 a stampede and lost some cattle while crossing the 

 waterless tract of the plain, but all in all ours had been a 

 fairly successful drive; and thoroughly satisfied with the 

 work and with an unusual number of dollars j ingling in 

 the pockets of our leather leggings we were now going 

 to enjoy ourselves in the manner that seemed best to us 

 and after the fashion most in accordance with cowboy 

 tastes. So after the trip by rail had been suffered in 

 silence, and endured by Ray with far more apprehen- 

 sion and fear than he would" have experienced amid the 

 wildest herd of untamed cattle, we finally reached the 

 station nearest our range, and mounting the horses that 

 were awaiting us rode another 50 miles to the little 

 frontier town that was the last settlement in going to 

 the ranch, it was a real cowboy town, possessing all the 

 requisites and conditions necessary to the full and per- 

 fect happiness of a socially inclined puncher; here he 

 could enjoy the variety of the half-barbaric orgy that 

 is known in local parlance as a "tear" and, provided he- 

 did not extend his recklessness too far, he had very little 

 to fear from the too strict enforcing of the rather dor- 

 mant law. 



Here Raymond and I stopped to have one. royal time 

 before settling down to the monotony of the winter's 

 drift line-riding. So we ate quantities of canned oysters, 

 the cowboy's idea of luxury, slept every night, or rather 

 a part of every night, on clean sheets and on soft mat- 

 resses, played pool and billiards, dallied a little with the 

 "tiger," and drank, I am very sorry to say, very little 

 water; in fact, save for occasional washing purposes, 

 water was not at all included in our calculations for 

 amusement. For one solid week we were virtually the 

 owners of the town; barkeepers were glad to hob-nob 

 with us, gamblers sought our society, and men picked up 

 the stray crumbs in the way of chip* that fell from our 

 table; and even the sheriff, who was usually not on good 

 terms with members of our crowd on account of their 

 frequent proclivities for shooting out his street lamps, 



FOREST AND STREAM, 



thawed out under the influence of our liberal treatings, 

 and diplomatically began to feel our political pulse in 

 regard to the approaching county election. 



But one day it got whispered about the little frontier 

 town that "them there two cowboys just home from 

 Montany had about blowed in their pile," and our reign, 

 based on the influence of the mighty dollar, began" to 

 wane. The barkeeper, seeing in us probable solicitors of 

 credit, ceased to be the genial soul of the past week; the 

 blacklegs having no time to waste on well picked chick- 

 ens, turned their attention to fresher game; while that 

 ever cautious sheriff, scenting a possible repetition of the 

 usual antic i of our boys when leaving town, swore in a 

 couple of deputies, and let it be generally known that he 

 had said that ' if them two trail cowboys tried to shoot 

 up hia town like some of the others of the same outfit 

 had done, there would sure be trouble." These threats, 

 however, had not much effect on our spirits, and we con- 

 tinued to enjoy ourselves as long as there was a dollar in 

 our pockets. But there must come an end to all things, 

 even to affairs of such unlimited possibilities as tears, 

 and late one night, urged rather by necessity than choice^ 

 we saddled up our bronchos and prepared' to begin the 

 twenty-mile ride to the ranch. 



I do not know whether it was owing to a slight in- 

 fluence of vegetable over animal spirits, or if it was 

 merely recklessness born of a passing tinge of remorse 

 over the hundred and fifty good American dollars that it 

 had taken us half a year to earn, but just as we rode 

 away from the horse track, Ray with a yell of defiance, 

 began emptying his six-shooter into the air and gave other 

 evidences of his intention of taking the town. We were 

 fast pardners in those days, pardners in peril and privation, 

 and pardners in any reckless pleasure that either of us 

 chose to inaugurate, so I followed his example, and to- 

 gether we enjoyed that classic amusement of "shooting 

 up the town," Down the one long street of the village 

 we rode, yelling like Comanches, and fusilade after 

 f usilade from our smoking pistols. It was no unusal in- 

 cident in that lawless little frontier town, where the law 

 was regarded more as an experiment than as a settled in- 

 stitution, but on this particular night the sheriff had been 

 rather on the look out; and just as the opan. prairie was 

 gained and we were preparing to rein our furious steeds, 

 a hail followed by a shot in the air, warned us that we 

 were being pursued, and looking behind the forms of 

 three mounted men could be discerned through the gloom, 

 while the sounds of galloping hoofs came to our ears over 

 the hundred or so yards of level prairie. Raymond calmly 

 began reloading his Colts. 



"Hold on, old man," I said, as we urged our bronchos 

 to redoubled efforts, "don't let us have any trouble, it's 

 all fun you know; our horses are fresh and let's try a run 

 for it, and leave all that kind of thing to the last." 



So giving our mustangs spur and quirt, we rode through 

 the night. At first we had hoped that after a mile or so 

 the posse, on seeing that there was no surrender, would 

 turn, back; but as mile after mile was passed over at a 

 killing pace, we began to realize that the race would be 

 a long one. Twice our pursuers hailed and several times 

 they opened fire, but we had had a fair start to begin 

 with, and steadily gained on the gang until the sound of 

 their horses hoofs gradually died away in the distance 

 and their shouts grew inaudible. We did not stop, how- 

 ever, but kept steadily and silently on, only slacking up 

 occasionally to give our panting horses a breathing spell; 

 and just as dawn began to break the long hill was gained, 

 on the summit of which stood the ranch house. We had 

 made the twenty miles in something like three hours. 

 Up the slope we rode while a volley of pistol shots 

 brought out our comrades to welcome us home, after an 

 absence of six months. From the elevation on which the 

 ranch stood we could see, four or five miles away, our 

 pursuers; but whether it was owing to the proximity of 

 county elections, or to the fact that we were at home and 

 surrounded by a dozen or more comrades, the posse came 

 no further, but after a short rest retraced their steps to 

 town, leaving us victors of a well won race. 



So ended one of the many incidents in which Raymond 

 and I were pardners. Disreputable? I grant you that; but 

 you who know no greater sensations than those furnished 

 by a tame Eastern life, surrounded by orderly crowds and 

 ruled by a series of laws that work like some piece of 

 well fitting machinery, can form no idea of what the life 

 of a cowboy is, and cannot appreciate the devil-may-care 

 spirit of mischief that takes possession of him when he 

 again comes into contact with something that approaches 

 civilization after months of danger and privation. The 

 doings such as I have just related are the result more of a 

 love of mischief than any desire to do real harm. And 

 so they are regarded by the generality of Westerners, who 

 look on the freaks of a lot of cowboys as they would on 

 the doings of a set of overgrown school boys, and notice 

 is very seldom taken of them by the officers. 



On the particular occasion of which I have written, 

 however, the sheriff, piqued perhaps by the distancing 

 that he received in that twenty- mile race, "laid for" us, 

 and one night a few weeks after the affair he had his 

 revenge. 



I had been obliged to come into town to receive a reg- 

 istered letter; and knowing that the officers were on the 

 lookout for either Ray or myself I waited on the outskirts 

 of the town until after dusk, and then staking my pony, 

 walked to the building that served as post-office ancl gen- 

 eral rendezvous for the socially-inclined gossips at the 

 place. My enemy was not there; so stepping to the 

 window I received my packet of mail and was about to 

 go, when, as luck would have it, in came the wretched 

 sheriff, who covered me immediately with his six-shooter 

 and gave the order "hands up," with which command I 

 lost no time in complying. There was nothing else to do, 

 for a man does not think much about resistance when 

 looking into the muzzle of a Colts revolver held only a 

 few feet from his head. So I had tamely to allow myself 

 to be disarmed, and then we went in search of bail, 

 which fortunately I soon procured and again became a 

 free man. After this my captor and I got on the best of 

 terms, he expressing his regret over the necessity that 

 had compelled him, etc., etc., in all of which condolence 

 1 rather the more feelingly of the two, I fancy, quite 

 agreed with him. The next morning, after going through 

 the usual formula of State vs. cowboy, I was obliged to 

 pay out $35 as a solace to the wounded feelings of the 

 law. Revenge is sweet, however, and when a few weeks 

 later, and just before election, a small keg of excellent 

 spirits and a couple of boxes of fair cigars were sent to 

 the ranch by this same sheriff with the hope that he 



481 



would see us all at the polls, we complied with his request 

 by drinking and smoking up the offering, and then riding 

 to the town in a body we defeated the donor by casting a 

 solid fifteen votes for the other man. 



Take them as a class, however, the sheriffs of the West 

 are a wonderful well qualified set of men. The position 

 is no sinecure, and requires no ordinary combination of 

 qualities. The popular sheriff must be a man of not only 

 a nerve and determination, but above all must have the 

 requisite caution and discretion in the handling of the 

 rough, devil-may-care classes that compose the bulk, of 

 the population of frontier counties. He must never let a 

 real crime go unpunished, and must be ready to follow at 

 all hazards the trail of the criminal; but he must also 

 have the discretion not to draw the restricting bands of 

 law too tightly down over men who have been a law 

 unto themselves. The sheriff who is ever ready to exact 

 the observance of the letter of the law in regard to trifles, 

 and who is most sure in restraining the antics of cowboys, 

 is not always the one that is most successful in bringing 

 criminals really guilty of grave offenses to justice. 



Alex. M. Reynolds, 

 [to be continued.] 



A FISHING TRIP TO THE ISLAND. 



r piiE past summer was in more ways than one queer, 

 JL We had an abundance of rain, but a scarcity of 

 wind, and threatened storms without number; in fact 

 the west coast, which beats the world in the way of 

 threats, has the past season beaten its own record. 



Scarcely a day has passed but we have had all the in- 

 dications of a tornado. Wind banks and thunder heads 

 would pile up in one quarter or another. The thunder 

 would rumble and grumble away, getting nearer and 

 nearer. The black blanket of clouds would be torn and 

 ripped by vicious and almost incessant flashes of light- 

 ning. But it was all threats. Just as we would think 

 the crisis at hand, and that something terrible must 

 happen, the sun would boom through the black sky, the 

 ominous-looking clouds would break up into littly fleecy 

 white patches and scatter away onlv to bank up some- 

 where else and repeat the farce over again. Boat sail- 

 ing was out of the question. If there was wind enough 

 to get clear of the land, it was sure to die out before we 

 could get back, and no one cared, to risk the almost cer- 

 tain result — pulling home. 



But we all know what one will do to go fishing, par- 

 ticularly when he knows the bay is alive with grouper 

 and redfish. 



And so it came about that we organized an expedition 

 to the island—object, fish. An early start was imperative. 

 So after a hurried breakfast we let go the wharf, and 

 with good cypress poles started down river. It was get- 

 ting gray in the east, but the cloud bank was so thick that 

 old Sol had a hard struggle to get above the trees. He 

 accomplished it at last and burst out with a fierce blind- 

 ing glare that was, to say the least, uncomfortable. But 

 a breeze came with the sun, and when, after a due amount 

 of work and perspiration, we reached the river the fair 

 wind was duly appreciated. With everything set, ropes 

 coiled away and skipper at the stick we stand out by the 

 pier head. 



Off to the no'rd were some half dozen spongers work- 

 ing up to their anchorage inside the keys; just dotting 

 the horzion were several more, all bound in, for the water 

 was thick and it was no use to work. "Yes," said the 

 skipper, "yes, this is the best harbor on this part of the 

 coast, ancl greatest resort for spongers. They have been 

 coming here now regularly since the war. Some of the 

 vessels which come here now as spongers were here in the 



sixties for a far different purpose. There's the old C ; 



now, I've seen her lying in under the keys here more than 

 once, masts down and her deck load of cotton covered 

 with bushes, while not far outside was a Yankee gunboat." 



"Did they catch them often?" 



"Bless you, no! Guess they didn't want to. We used 

 to unstep our masts and pole down along the coast, inside 

 where we could, making easy reaches through the night, 

 and lying well hid through the day. Oh, yes, it paid 

 well. I know one man that made $4,000 in one trip to 

 Nassau. Do him any good, did you say? I reckon so. 

 He's got the money now all stowed away— good bright 

 Confederate notes every one of them. 



"That's called the South Key— the one with the light- 

 house, I mean; quite a settlement there once, fellows that 

 couldn't stand conscription. 



"The next one is Hog Island; been settlers there once 

 too; didn't stay there long, I reckon. A man started a 

 ranch there once. What hogs the fishermen and spongers 

 didn't steal the 'gators gobbled, so I guess he didn't make 

 much. No! the South Key is where the money is buried. 

 How do I know it is there? How do 1 know anything? 

 Didn't a sailor, dying in the hospital in New Orleans, tell 

 all about it, ancl didn't the boat come ashore here right 

 north of the river, and in a few days the wreck drifted 

 in by the mouth of the Coolie, Of course I know it's 

 there, $85,000; somebody'll get it yet, see if they don't. 



"Why don't I get it? So I would only it was so long 

 ago that the land marks are all gone. The sailor who 

 died in New Orleans said there was a crow foot on a cab- 

 bage palmetto right over it; but the thing is to find that 

 cabbage palmetto. I believe it's there though, if I can't 

 find it. 



"But here we are at the No. 2 buoy. Now, gentlemen, 

 you might risk a line astern; perhaps we'll get a kingfish 

 'tween here and the island. We'll run the beach down, 

 and it will be strange if we don't hook something, I think 

 we'll run down to Big Pass, then we'll slip in and land on 

 a sand beach there is just inside. Some of you fellows 

 will want to go over to the Indian mound; and the rest 

 can fish while they are waiting. Yes, there are lots of 

 these Indian mounds on this coast. Most of them have 

 been overhauled though. I made a big find once myself. 

 It got me into the worst scrape I was ever in, too. You 

 see, I was down on Tampa Bay. I had had poor luck and 

 was getting mighty hard up. I landed near the mouth 

 of Bull Frog River, and close by was a large mound that, 

 as far as I could see, had never been molested. I got 

 there about two o'clock in the afternoon, and after look- 

 ing the mound over, made up my mind to see what I 

 could find. Well, I stripped and went at it, and I hadn't 

 worked ten minutes when— Great Scott! look at that 

 squall over the land!" 



We all looked and the skipper and his story were for 

 the time forgotten. On our lee beam and nearly the 

 whole length of the eastern horizon, was the blackest 



