June 20, 1896.] 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
491 
nevah shows a dozen drinks more'n he'd show one. Sile's 
feelin' comfitable, but he's all right yet. Them two 
young sports shows it some, K>lmtn mo' 'an Murphy; but 
I see 'em throw off an' make like they's drinkin' an' spill 
awn the flo*; they's both coatin' the same gal an' they's 
lookin' out fo' Vantage. Look a' Simpkinsl I knowed 
he'd git his kish full fust thing, an' he's got it; but he's a 
good hossman, drunk aw sobah, and he's all o. k. ef he 
stays j°ss so an' doan drink no moah; but he will. He'll 
git fuller'n a tick befo' he goes home, an' he'll — " ''Draw 
fo' places, gentlemen," called the young man at the table, 
and he held the straws in his closed hand while they 
drew. Sile Johnson drew the long straw and mounted 
his big bay. He waited until the gander ceased ti pping 
and hung its head limp. Touching the horse lightly, he 
started, and the horse, glad to be moving again, increased 
his speed until two-thirds of the way was left behind, 
when Sile plied the whip, and the four white feet of the 
big bay seemed like a streak of light over the brown road. 
Within a few feet of the game the whip was dropped, the 
well-sanded right hand raised and the prize was won. The 
crowd, now increased to over 100, greeted the victor with 
a shout such as greeted a winner at the Olympian games. 
As he rode back he leaned from his saddle, picked the 
whip from the ground, and returning to the stand dis- 
mounted with the remark: "The ole man's with the boys 
yet, yo' bet." I congratulated him on his success and 
then we looked to see Simpkins mount. He was evi- 
dently drunk, but as Bevins remarked, "The hoss is 
sober," it seemed that there was no danger. He started, 
plying the whip with vigor, and a small boy encouraged 
the gray with a smart cut from a hickory switch; away 
he went, but before he reached the oak the gray was un- 
manageable and the rider tried to gain control without 
even giving the suspended bird a glance. The dust was 
seen a mile away, and a keen-eyed darky boy declared 
that his bridle had broken. 
"The hoss '11 take him home all right ef he sticks on," 
said the blacksmith. 
"Yes," replied Old Bill, "but what '11 his ole woman 
say? Golly, I wouldn't like to git it, an' not a feather to 
show her." 
Turley walked quietly down the line until the boy with 
the hickory was reached. The boy was watching a 
squirrel running a rail fence near by and did not know of 
the coming danger until he felt a grip on his collar and 
his own hickory raising welts on his back. His yells 
scared the squirrel, who dropped a nut and made long 
jumps for shelter; the jays screamed and the other 
darkies yelled with delight. "Oh, Mistah Turley 1 I 
nebber done nuffia'; oh !" and so he kept it up until half a 
dozen had been dealt him and he went off crying. 
Turley never spoke, but as he returned the boys shrank 
back and several hickories were dropped; that part of 
their intended fun was spoiled; no other horse got a cut 
from the line of spectators, and I remembered that the 
blacksmith had said of Old Bill Turley that "He's one o' 
them quiet kind that 'tends his own business, but it won't 
do fo' any o' the smart fellahs to go projectin' 'round 
him," and from his business-like way in this matter it 
looked like a very just estimate of him. Several colored 
men muttered what they would do if their boy was 
whipped like that, but Old Bill did not hear, or if he did 
paid no attention to it, but certain it is that none of the 
grumblers went "projectin' around" Turley. 
The other events were run without special incident, 
Turley getting two and Murphy the remaining two, and all 
hands went to the house again. I had lingered to observe 
several flights of wild doves as the sun was just dropping 
into the tree tops, throwing their long shadows across the 
field, and was watching a flicker approaching rapidly, 
closing its wings, falling and then catching himself, as if 
nodding, and rising again, when a little pickaninny in- 
formed me that "a gemman want yo' cum obah," and I 
started toward the tavern. On entering there were cries 
of: "Here he is now!" "Leave it to him!" "I'll stand by 
what he says!" and similar exclamations. 
Half a dozen voices claimed attention at once, but on 
my suggesting that if only one would speak at a time a 
better understanding would be reached, Old Bill Turley 
stated the case: "They's a bet up an' it's left fo' yo' to de- 
cide, an' we want to know ef yo' see ole niggah Sam put 
up all the gandahs?" 
"I did; I watched the operations closely, for it was all 
new to me and interesting." 
"Did you watch him grease the necks?" 
"Yes, I stood near him and saw it all and watched every 
start and noted each kill or miss." 
"Did he grease 'em all, fah an' squah?" 
"He did, he greased them all alike." 
A shout went up and Kellum remarked: "Heah's yo' 
dollah, Sile," and then it transpired that he had accused 
the veteran of collusion with Sam and had bet that there 
was no grease on the neck of the gander that he had 
won. 
There had evidently been hot talk and some danger of 
a fight, for the young men, Kellum and Murphy, began t& 
show the effect of Wilson's whisky, but the two older 
ones were apparently as sober as if they had not drank 
once, although an hour before this Sile showed evidence 
of frequent potations. Now h^was merely good-humored. 
Kellum felt it obligatory to celebrate his lost bet and 
asked the party to the bar. which, by the way, they never 
left. After the drink Sile seemed to feel it a trifle, and 
opened up war matters by saying to me: "Yank, did you 
shoot me in the laig in the wilderness?" 
"No, my dear old boy, I didn't do it. In the first place 
. I didn't know that you were there at the time, and in the 
second I never knew that Sile Johnson was hit. Then 
again, I did not shoot anybody, at any time, for I carried 
a sword that was never loaded, and just told other men 
when to shoot. 
"All right, Colonel!" I was promoted at once. "I 
knowed yo' wouldn't shoot me, not ef yo' knowed it, but 
some Yank shot me in the laig when I was loadin' my 
gun an' hadn't shot at anybody nur give no provocation. 
Didn't hurt much nur lay me up long, but it showed a 
uean spirit to shoot a man when he ain't done nothin', 
uvt that so?" 
I could heartily agree with him since my promotion, 
and as the landlord had whispered of some bottles of 
finger ale found in some out-of-the-way place, for which 
e had no call, it gave a chance to ask Sile and his friends 
- join me, for I began to feel mean to be with such a 
party and not reciprocate after such kind treatment and 
ao many invitations to join them; so calling up Sam, who 
)jad been left out somehow, I proposed his health as the. 
best master of ceremonies at a gander pull in Arkansaw, 
and Sam grinned, touched his hat, said "Thanks, Cun- 
nel," and took his glass brim full. After this Sam was in 
for every event and sung and danced to the patting of a 
darky boy until his too liberal potations made him weary, 
and he curled up on a settee with no interest even in a 
gander pull. 
The blacksmith drew my attention to the two young 
men who were arguing something at the end of the bar 
by saying: 
"They ar' beginnin' to feel putty numerous, and them's 
the two I tole yo' was waitin' on one gal, listen!" 
"I sav 'tain'tso!" 
"You're a liah!" 
Biff, and Kellum has the floor, with Murphy waiting 
for him to rise, as the Marquis of Queensbury has directed. 
Old Bill Turley quietly collared both, saying, "Boys, thar 
ain't goin' to be no fightin' 'less I take a hand. Now yo' 
all got to stop; yo' hpah me?" Kellum was hot for satis- 
faction, and stated it as his opinion that he could whip 
any man in the house, old Bill Turley not excepted, and 
started for him, hands up. Turley took him by both 
wrists and held him as if he were a child, saying, "Yo' 
doan whip nobody to-night. Now yo' all take a good- 
night drink with me, get yo' gandahs an' go home." 
In the morning as I passed the blacksmith's Bevins 
callpd out, "How did yo' like the gander pull, Ounnel?" 
"First-rate; it's an intellectual game that I will try to 
introduce into Central Park, New York city, when I go 
home, under the patronage of the Cruelty to Animals 
Society, in order to divert the public from the brutal game 
of football; and a gander pull seems to be the only one 
that Northern women can't rob us of, because they are 
not strong enough in the wrist. Don't you think so?" 
"I dunno, I dunno. Ef they take a notion they'll go at 
it on bicycles and use canary birds, ef what I heah about 
'em is true." 
"Perhaps so. I've had a good time, thanks to you for 
many points, and when I come this way I will always 
remember that old Bill Turley is the kind of a man that 
smart fellows don't want to go projecting around. Good 
bye!" 
^in\nl l§tetor£. 
ENDLESS AND FLYAWAY. 
We were residing for a few weeks in an ancient marble 
palace, deserted by its builders many centuries ago, in the 
famous old city of Uxmal in Yucatan. On a Sunday 
morning an Indian field laborer brought to us from Muna, 
the nearest town, a forlorn little object in the shape of a 
yellow dog. Though not many weeks old, it had been 
made to trot several miles and was quite played out. On 
its face there were three moles, forming a perfect triangle, 
and the poor creature's tail had been chopped off by the 
persons in whose power it had been when it first took a 
peep at this world; they, like many of their countrymen, 
regarding a caudal appendage as unbecoming to their 
canine acquaintances. Some of the ancient Egyptians 
were of that opinion too, and closely curtailed their 
dogs. 
In a letter of thanks to the priest who had sent us the 
small specimen of a native hound Dr. Le Plongeon 
thanked him for his Sunday sermon on Trinity, repre- 
sented by the three moles, and on Eternity, suggested by 
the endless condition of the pup. 
When the question of a name was discussed it was de- 
cided that we could do no better than to leave it as it was, 
Endless. This was afterward converted by the Spanish- 
speaking natives into Ingles (Spanish for English). 
Three hot baths were required to free the smooth yel- 
low coat from its thirty- three score of fleas. The cleans- 
ing process induced an appetite, and its owner, upon find- 
ing a dead rabbit which we had intended to incorporate 
into our own system, made the best of his opportunity. 
When we discovered our loss all our sympathy went out 
to the poor dogsy, who with widely distended ribs lay 
gasping in a corner. Owing to his intimate connection 
with our rabbit we quite despaired of the pup's life, but 
his time had not yet come, so he grew in strength and 
beauty. 
He soon became useful as a watchdog, and nothing 
was big enough to arouse his fear. He chased every 
creature that ventured upon the premises for a few days, 
and was a small terror to the domesticated fowl which 
we kept on hand for special occasions. However, we had 
not much difficulty in teaching him to discriminate, and 
thereafter he chased the chickens only for the fun of see- 
ing them scared. He never annoyed the poor natives 
who used to come begging for medicines, each bringing 
some little offering, if only a flower. One day a girl pre- 
sented us with a miserable specimen of a chicken, with 
few feathers and less flesh, which we had to accept. The 
bird !never flew away from Endless, but insisted on 
perching on his back, dozing between his paws and shar- 
ing his food. Like a benevolent human being, the dog 
responded to those acts of confidence by constituting him- 
self the chick's protector. Whether the dog nursing had 
anything to do with it we could not say, but as the bird 
flattened and expanded its feathers grew the wrong side 
out, making its wings appear as if turned upward, or 
spread for flight. O ving to this, we at first called that 
chick Angel, but certain visitors declared that was too 
shocking, and accordingly the name was changed to 
Flyaway. 
To watch the two friends at dinner was vastly amus- 
ing. No sooner did Endless begin his meal than the 
chick drew near; then, just as soon as the small beak came 
in contact with some coveted morsel the canine foster 
parent would make a show of pouncing upon his protege; 
only out of mischief, to see the small creature fly off with 
a cry of fright; in the end the chicken always got the 
pieces it preferred. 
Later on a very sagacious Mack hen was added to our 
family party, and Flyaway tried to be adopted by her, 
but the only attention she ever bestowed on him was to 
give bis small body a sharp peck when she wanted to 
vent her spleen on something that was not big enough to 
retaliate— so inhuman! 
Our hen Negra turned out to be so brainy that we had 
not the heart to cut short her fife; as for Flyaway, he 
was our dog's particular friend; therefore, when we left 
the ruins we carried the trio with us. During the journey 
we rested some hours at an old convent which had served 
as habitation to the priest who had presented Endless to 
us. That amiable young dog was set free in a large, in- 
terior court; so were the birds, one secured to each end 
of the same string. When ready to resume our travels 
we could not catch the chicks, but the hound, seeing our 
efforts, took matters in his own hands and in a few min- 
utes got the string between his sharp, white teeth and 
brought to our feet the rebellious poultry, indulging in a 
doggish war dance when he saw the chickens in our 
power. 
In Merida, capital of Yucatan, the unfortunate Fly- 
away was condemned to death for habitual insubordina- 
tion: he had insisted upon roosting on our dining table. 
Endless made no attempt to hide his grief, and Negra 
then turned comforter. The yellow dog had grown rap- 
idly, and when he appeared particularly depressed the 
sympathetic chicken would settle herself between his fore- 
paws, leaning against his chest for half an hour at a time. 
That gentle condolence was not misplaced. Endless re- 
ciprocated by taking into his large mouth the entire head 
of bis comforter, who never manifested fear, but allowed 
the performance to be repeated again and again. 
The first time we heard Negra uttering unusual sounds 
and saw Endless dragging her about the yard by one of 
her wings, we rushed to the rescue, but were only med- 
dling with what did not concern us. By observation we 
became convinced that the hen had no objection to such 
sport, for no sooner did Endless let go of her than she 
would, while he lay stretohed on the ground, carefully 
pick stray insects from his glossy coat and. perch upon him 
in the most friendly manner. 
We always thought that one day the nature of the beast 
might assert itself, for Endless was in fact a fine hunting 
dog, and very fierce; so that each time we saw his great 
jaws engulf Negra's head we asked each other, Has she 
really made her very last appearance in public? 
She had not done so at the time of our departure, for 
on returning to New York we left dog and chicken, on the 
most friendly terms, in care of one of their admiring 
human friends. Alice D. Le Plongeon. 
THE COLORADO BUFFALO SURVIVORS. 
Denver, Colo., June 5. — The inclosed clipping is from 
yesterday morning's Republican of this city. It tells the 
story as it is now understood. I heard of the killing three 
or four days ago and knew that a deputy warden had 
been sent to investigate. 
"Last Saturday C. W. Withington, deputy game war- 
den, was sent from Denver to Pine Grove to investigate a 
report that some one had shot and killed a buffalo in that 
vicinity. He returned here Tuesday night and yesterday 
made the following report to State Game Warden Land: 
" 'I went to Pine Grove to investigate the report of a 
buffalo having been killed near the place. On May 29 
Mr. Jonathan Higginson was surprised to see three large 
buffalo bulls near his pasture fence, four miles below Buf- 
falo Park, near Scraggy, about thirty-six miles from Den- 
ver, He noticed that one of the bulls was mortally wound- 
ed, so Mr. Higginson and one of his men followed the buf- 
falo bulls about four miles. The wounded animal was bleed- 
ing at the mouth and side and could travel only slowly. It 
fell several times over logs, etc. 
" 'Night coming on, they left him in a patch of timber 
and returned to the ranch. One bull had separated from 
the others and gone off by himself; the other stayed with 
his wounded comrade. That morning Mr. Higginson and 
his man went to where they had left the two bulls and 
found that the wounded one had died. The other was 
standing near it, but made off at their approach. 
" 'Mr. Higginson skinned the buffalo, cut off his head, 
took the hide and head to the ranch and wired you. I 
claimed the hide and head for the State, shipped them to 
you and they are now here in Denver, to be disposed of 
aB you may consider best. This buffalo was a very old 
one; he has a grand head, but his hide is poor. These 
three buffalo were undoubtedly driven out of Lost 
Park, probably by prospectors, as there are quite a number 
of men prospecting in that vicinity at present. Whether 
the buffalo was shot in the park or after he had got into 
the lower country it is at present impossible to state. 
There was a bullet hole through the paunch, one low 
down behind the shoulder and one near the point of the 
shoulder. 
" 'I think from arrangements we have made we shall 
learn more about this shooting before many weeks are 
over. The other two bulls will travel back along the 
main ridge to their own range. As we have several good 
men on the lookout for us, we are certain to hear if they 
get molested in any way.' " 
I have been trembling for this little band of buffalo 
ever since the new excitement in prospecting has been 
closing its lines around them. Within a month 1 in- 
quired about them and learned from credible authority 
that when last seen they numbered sixteen. They belong 
in Lost Park, about sixty miles from this city, and I 
think have never been far from their very limited range 
in the last thirty years. Formerly they were frequently 
preyed upon by unscrupulous hunters, but in late years 
they have been pretty carefully watched. The perma- 
nent settlers scattered through the mountains in that 
neighborhood have learned to feel an interest in their 
preservation. 
These buffalo are on an United States Forest Reserve, 
and the Government ought to fence in six or eight square 
miles of the tract, inclosing the herd, and by so doing 
preserve them. That would be a cheap and effective way 
of saving a natural wild herd upon their native range. 
These three bulls referred to evidently started off on a 
scout and one lost his life. He was very large and very 
old. The largest buffalo I ever saw was from this same 
herd, killed twelve or fifteen years ago, and is still in the 
collection of a Colorado taxidermist. There is another 
small herd of wild buffalo in this State. The last defi- 
nite information I had about them they numbered eight. 
I believe I will not even tell the readers of Forest and 
Stream where they range. 
An lllb. trout, native, was brought in from the Gunni- 
son River yesterday. Wm, N. Byers. 
The Forest and Stream is put to press each week on 
Tuesday. Correspondence intended for publication 
should reach v.s at the latest by Monday, and as much 
earlier as prat Unable, 
