470 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
[Deo. 12. 1896. 
easy for sport. As you say, you could probably kill a 
thousand in half a day, but shooting at a mark is just 
as much fun; in fact, it would be more fun for me 
than to kill things for the mere sake of killing." 
I This buflPalo fish is a coarse thing, a relative of the 
sucker tribe, with a similar mouth; perhaps it is as good 
as the carp, but then we had not the carp and the taste 
of the buffalo has faded too much in forty years for 
comparison. My present notion is that both are worth- 
less as food, but a residence by salt water may have 
spoiled me for enjoying most fresh-water fish, especially 
carp and suckers. 
Warren sold his claim and took another while I was 
still undecided, and we put up a little cabin on the bank 
of the river and "batched" together. Within a few miles 
several towij sites were laid out with pegs, each with 
grand parks, court house squares and grand avenues, on 
paper. 
"Behind the squaw's light birch canoe 
The steamer rocks and raves, 
And city lots are staked for sale 
Above old Indian gravest— Whittier. 
The genius of speculation was abroad, and within a 
radius of five miles there were at least a dozen "future 
railroad centers" laid out. I only remember "Columbia" 
on the Cottonwood, where there was a grocery and gin-mill 
combined kept by a man named Jeff . He had maps 
and sold lots in the Eastern cities and took in what he 
could gather. He offered me ten lots in the heart of his 
"city" for my revolver, but somehow I thought I needed 
the pistol more than 1 did town lots. Then there was 
"Chicago," on top of a bluff where I shot sandhill cranes 
later on, which never got beyond the peg and map stage. 
Warren had a big interest in this and traded some lots for 
a yoke of cattle and a wagon. I doubt if there is even a 
farm house there to day. Etnporia was laid out high on 
the open prairie, between the Cottonwood and Neosho, 
with no water in sight. It was not a promising place for 
a 'town, but when my father offered to send me his 
double fowling-piece I traded the revolver for a block of 
lots in Emporia. 
Warren said: "Betcher your revolver is gone, lost, 
vanished an' vamoosed. Why, that place will never 
amount to a hill o' beans, but if you'd invested in Chicago 
you'd have been o. k. They've dug over lOOEt. for water 
there in Emporia and didn't get it. Whatter they goin' 
to do without water? Just dry up, that's all. Betcher 'U 
wish that revolver back 'fore long, for that was worth 
something." 
There was a big push behind Etnporia. A lot of East- 
ern capitalists spent money to find water, and they found 
it. As soon as it was struck I was offered $150 for my 
lots and I shook the money under my friend's nose. That 
find of water after nearly a year's digging made a great 
railroad center, and the neighboring "peg towns" were 
heard of no more. 
Meanwhile I had located a claim and filed it at the 
land oflB.ce. This gave me the privilege, as an actual set- 
tler, of pre-empting or buying the quarter section of 160 
acres at the Government price of $1.^5 per acre before the 
tract in which it was situated was offered at public sale. 
That spring there had been discoveries of great deposits 
of lead in the Ozark Mountains, and among the miners cf 
Potosi, Wis., there was much excitement and consider- 
able emigration. I had written father that I would go to 
the mines in Missouri. That shirt of Nessus which causes 
the restlessness or border life impelled me to go some- 
where. I bad tired of life as it was lived in the mines 
and woods of Wisconsin and Minnesota, and a new field 
of adventure was opened. With the average miner, who 
is a born gambler, there was the prospect of gain. I was 
not an average miner, nor a born gambler, and only 
wanted' change and adventure. I had read all about 
Daniel Boone, Davy Crockett, Kit Carson, and Cooper's 
men of fiction, and dollars cut no figure in my calcula- 
tions. I was yoimg; old age and its needs seemed to be 
centuries away, if indeed it was ever thought of. I 
reveled in my youth and strength, and thought they 
would last forever. The quarter of a century that I had 
lived seemed to comprise the whole existence of the 
world, and all that had gone before my recollection was 
merely a fairy tale! 
When I left Albany, in 1854, my father had exacted a 
firomise that I would not join an expedition against the 
ndians. He knew that I loved a fight of most any kind, 
and when he learned that I proposed to go to the Ozarks 
he wrote me that he wanted me to go to Kansas and 
select a farm on which he could pass his declining years. 
This was not funny then, but it is to-day. My father was 
reared on a farm, but left it when eighteen years old and 
always looked to getting back on one. Now, when I am 
six years older than he was then, I know that his nervous 
organization, after years of absence from farm life, was 
no more fitted to it than my very different temperament 
was. But he wrote me that he had a land warrant from 
the war of 1813 (not his own by right of service, for he 
was born in 1800) and that he wanted me to select the 
place in Kansas. 
The newspapers had been filled with accounts of 
"bleeding Kansas," and the troubles were not entirely 
over when our surveying party came out of the Minnesota 
woods in the last month of 1856, There was a fight there 
over the slavery question, a matter that I had paid no 
attention to, but there was a fight. I looked around and 
got letters of introduction to Gen. Jim Lane, the "Free 
State" leader, and went to Kansas; we spelled it Kanzas 
in those days, and my tongue has never been able to ac- 
commodate itself to the modern soft way of speaking 
the name. 
I put up a log cabin on a good quarter section which 
had a stream running through it, and also had several 
acres of timber, two valuable things in that prairie coun- 
try. Warren helped me in this, and also in splitting 
enough black walnut and mulberry rails to fence in ten 
acres. The land cost $1.25 per acre, but it cost $3 per 
acre to break the heavy prairie sod. I was playing 
farmer! 
"One man in his time plays many parts, 
His acts being seven ages. * * *" 
Warren and I kept batchelor's hall until past midsum- 
mer, when my house was in order for business and my 
little family came on from Wisconsin. Our work was at 
a distance and we took turns at cooking, and on Sundays 
we cleaned up and washed the dishes. A very good 
housekeeper to whom I told this asked in undisguised 
astonishment: "Didn't you wash your dishes every day? 
Why! how did you get along?" 
"My dear madam, I replied, "you are a most excellent 
housekeeper here in the effete East, but know little how 
to manage a batchelor establishment in Kansas in that 
early day. If we had washed our tin plates after every 
meal, as is the custom in some places, the microbes set 
free from the newly turned sod would have attached 
themselves to the tin and our lives would have been in 
danger from tintinambulaora. No, my dear madam, 
we did not dare risk it; so we turned our plates over after 
each meal to protect them, and only dared to wash them 
once a week. This was a fearful risk, but we did it; I 
now think it would be safer not to have exposed the 
plates to the influence of hot water and soap at all, but 
fortunately we escaped all harm, perhaps because we had 
youth on our side." 
She paused a moment, drew a long breath and said: 
"You don't tell me — . OhI men are horrid, anyway. I 
don't believe a word of it!" 
Warren said: "When you take the ox team up to Em- 
poria after the mail and provisions, see if you can't get 
some vegetables. The cows got into my garden and 
cleaned up what the coons, bugs and other things left, 
and we want some green stuff; see if you can get some 
onions, beets, cucumbers, or anything." 
Among the things which I brought was a fine bunch of 
early beets and we promised ourselves a treat. We peeled 
and sliced them and put them in vinegar. Next day they 
were set out for the evening meal, when we talked about 
them. 
"Betcher," said Warren, "them beets is more'n a hun- 
dred years old. I've seen lots o' beets, but they wuz 
allers tender an' good." 
"They can't be old. They don't keep beets over a year 
like dried beans; besides, didn't you see the tops were 
green? I think they're a new kind or else the soil here is 
not good for beets." 
"Betcher they ain't cut thin enough for the vinegar to 
sof 'en 'em. These cukes are all right, they're cut thin and 
the vinegar goes right through 'em, and they're tender." 
"Yes, the cucumbers are good enough, but what ails 
the beets I don' t know. I've often eaten 'em at home when 
mother cut 'em up in vinegar; perhaps they want to be 
soaked in vinegar longer to make 'em tender; I don't 
know just how long they have to stay in vinegar before 
they're fit to eat." 
"Betcher right! Let 'em soak awhile an' they'll get ten- 
der, an' beets is a mighty good relish too; they're good 
for what ails you; for a man can't live on salt pork, 
ham and all that stuff, salt codflsh and mackerel and 
sioh like, without a Uttle vegetable food, or he will go to 
the bad; betcher life he wants a change. Just put them 
beets away until they get tender, that's all they want." 
The beets were set aside in vinegar until such time as 
they might be fit to eat. We sampled them daily, but 
there was no perceptible improvement, and Sunday came. 
After cleaning house, or kitchen and dining room — for 
our 10x12 cabin was not only these, but also our grand 
salon — we brushed ourselves up and walked up to Serrine's 
ranch, where Mrs. S. and Mrs, Judge Howell were dis- 
cussing some abstruse question of which we were ignor- 
ant, when they both turned and in the same breath asked 
how we were getting along with our "batching." War- 
ren went into details about the biscuit, pancakes, roasts, 
fries and stews, and finally mentioned the difficulty with 
the beets. 
There was an instantaneous duet of soprano and con- 
tralto: "Didn't you boil 'em first?" 
I sneaked outside at once, and have no idea of how 
Warren stood off the two women; but the logs of the 
house were not chinked tightly enough to keep out a 
whole mess of laughter which came through in ripples at 
first, then in waves, and finally in shrieks that top- 
pled the barrel from the chimney, and then the cabin 
filled with smoke. 
On our way down the Cottonwood we said little until 
we got to the door of our castle, when Warren turned 
and said : "Did you know that beets should be boiled be- 
fore they were sliced and cut up in vinegar?" 
"Well, no; not exactly boiled, but I knew that some- 
thine; ought to be done to them like baking or frying or — " 
"Betcher didn't know but what they were just cut ujp 
in vinegar like cucumbers, just as I thought. Betcher 
Mrs. Howell will spread that story, an' every woman up 
both rivers will know the beet story before a week. Well, 
let 'em, There's a whole mess of things that they don't 
know. How in Gibraltar do they s'pose a fellow is to 
know that the tender beets that he finds on the table have 
been boiled, any more than the cucumbers have been 
boiled?" 
The slavery trjoubles, which had partly subsided, began 
to break out afresh, and it was evident that another great 
effort to make Kansas a slave State would be made. 
Congress had already abrogated the Missouri Com- 
promise, and this opened the Territories of Kansas and 
Nebraska to the slave power, as it left the question to be 
decided by the actual settlers. Two conflicting Terri- 
torial governments had been established. Blood had 
been shed at the first election, when armed invaders had 
taken possession of the polls and elected a lot of non- 
resident pro-slavery men as a Legislature, which passed a 
law making it a capital offense to harbor or assist run- 
away slaves; and they had the backing of President 
Buchanan and the support of Gen. Harney, then in com- 
mand at Fort Leavenworth. But against this was a great 
majority who had determined that Kansas should enter 
the Union as a free State or not at all. 
Our section was comparatively quiet. We were run- 
ning short on provisions, and as the staple articles were 
costly owing to the long haul by teams, we would take 
our teams to Fort Leavenworth, lay in half a dozen bags 
of flour — it came in 1001b. bags — sugar, coft'ee, pork, bacon 
and other things, saving the transportation and the 
profit of the local trader. The prairie roads were good in 
June, and at the frequent streams good camping places 
were always found with the three prime requisites — 
wood, water and grass. At Lawrence we fished in the 
Kaw River and caught seven catfish, one of which weighed 
91bs, ; we ate the smaller ones and gave the big one to a 
passing family in a prairie schooner. 
There was a municipal election while we were in Leav- 
enworth. The Free State men won, but there was a lot 
of beautiful fights. A border ruifian named Lyle, who 
had murdered several men, provoked a fight with an old 
man and was killed by a Free State man named Hallen, 
who was arrested. 
The excitement was intense and contagious. Few slept 
that night. Warren and I volunteered, with others, to 
guard Hallen; but there was no attempt made to lynch 
him. Next morning Hallen was refused bail and was 
committed to Fort Leavenworth for safe-keeping, and 
only our respect for the uniform of Uncle Sam allowed a 
sergeant and a squad to remove him ; but Hallen bribed a 
guard and escaped, went to Lawrence and was never dis- 
turbed. 
The buffalo country was west of us, but there remained 
a few deer and antelope as well as wild turkeys along the 
Cottonwood and Neosho, and Warren and I each had a 
Sharps rifle which had been sent from the East to help 
make Kansas a free State, and which had been issued to 
us at Leavenworth while guarding Hallen. October had 
come and one morning there was a light fall of snow 
and Warren came to my cabin. "Hurry up," he called, 
"there's a deer's track going straight for that bunch of 
willows in the buffalo wallow over there to the. west 
where we shot the prairie chickens a week ago." We 
struck the track in the fast melting snow and came up to 
within lOOyds. of the wallow, which was a small one not 
over 50it, in diameter, and then consulted in a whisper 
how we should form for the attack. We had come up 
against the wind and there seemed ample time to consult 
when — a flash of gray bounded out on the prairie from 
the other side of the wallow, gathered its legs and leaped 
again as two rifles called "Halt!" The buck halted and 
never went again. One bullet nearly severed a hind hoof 
and one plowed up from below through his heart. Both 
rifles were of the same caliber and who it was that 
killed -that deer remains as obscure as "the mystery of 
Gilgal." 
We bought Indian ponies, cheap but serviceable, and 
accustomed to any amount of abuse, for an Indian never 
has a particle of regard for a saddle sore, but claps on the 
saddle in the same old place in perfect indifferfence to the 
suffering of an animal, and this trait has hardened my 
heart against the red man; he has no sympathy for suffer- 
ing — not even his own. He has served the purpose for 
which he was placed here just as other created things 
have, and he dies out before civilization and must go, as 
we must when we have exhausted the coal which was 
stored up for our advent, and our planet falls in line with 
the dead worlds which — have no Indian ponies. 
A little castUe soap and water, with tallow afterward, 
soon put our ponies in shape for travel, and as the winter 
came on the troubled times increased. The bogus Legisla- 
ture of Lecompton had authorized a convention to form 
a State constitution during the summer and things were 
getting red hot. Warren and I decided to go to Lawrence 
and offer our services to Gen. Jim Lane. At that time 
we thought Lane to be the best and greatest living Amer- 
ican. He could sway men by his impassioned oratory, to 
which his profanity added the charm of emphasis. We 
had met old John Brown down at Oaawatomie, and 
would have none of him. Brown was sitting by the road- 
side singing "Blow ye the trumpet, blow," through his 
nose, and Warren said: 
"Betcher he's an ole feller that turns his camp into a 
Sunday-school half a dozen times a day; I don't want 
any of him; if you want to go with him all right, Jim 
Lane is good enough for me." 
Said I: "Billy, I've got no more use for old Oaawatomie 
than you have. There wouldn't be a bit of fun with 
him. He's a religious fanatic, and says that the Lord 
has sent him here to do things. I don't object to his 
doing things, but he won't get me to serve under him. 
I don't like him, and that's all there is of it. He's in 
dead earnest, but so is Jim Lane, and Jim is the man to 
make things hump." 
We went back home. To-day the fame of the martyr 
John Brown, who freely gave his life for a cause, is sung 
all over the land, while my hero, Gen. Jim Lane, is remem- 
bered by a few as a political trickster, who killed a man 
that contested his claim to land, was tried and acquitted, 
for that vi,as frontier custom, and then for six years 
represented Kansas in theU. S. Senate. Then, following 
the lead of President Andrew Johhson, he received the 
indignant reproval of his constituents and died by his 
own hand. How differently we look at men and things 
when they are as widely separated as then and now, 
when the cool judgment of sixty -three sits upon the rash 
impulses of the boy forty years ago! 
It was in the southeastern portion where things were 
hottest, and where there was more or less desultory fight- 
ing, but party feeling ran high up the Cottonwood, and 
several Free State men had notices pinned on their doors 
warning them to leave the territory or they would be 
killed. I had a Sharps rifle and a double shotgun, and 
bought a revolver from a soldier who had come down 
our way on some business and had no money to get back. 
It was a Colt's Army, big of bore and not very accurate. 
Every man carried a revolver, and I would as soon think 
of going to the spring for water without a pail as without 
a pistol in my belt. I destroyed the notice found on my 
door; it wasn't just the thing for a woman to see; you 
know how they are about such things; so I closed my 
castle and left the little family in Emporia, giving as a 
reason that Warren and I wanted to examine some land 
further west, and might be away a month, and so 
smoothed it over while we started for Lawrence to con- 
sult Gen. Jim Lane. James W. Denver had superseded 
Walker as Governor in December, and he struck a snag 
on the start. About a year before this the pro-slavery 
officials had seized a wagon containing 150 muskets and 
carbines from an emigrant train and had stored them in 
the cellar under the Governor's residence in Lecompton. 
"Boys," said Lane, "you are just in time. Col. Eldridge 
is going to start with a battalion to get a lot of rifles that 
belong to us, and he may have to fight to get 'em; but 
we'll have 'em, sure. Do you want to go?" 
"Betcher," said Warren; "we came up to take a hand in 
anything that's going on; didn't we, pard?" 
"Yes," I answered, "and down our way they're threat- 
ening us and we've got to do some cleaning out down 
there or abandon our homes and be cleaned out. So far 
they only threaten, but we know how every man stands 
in the whole valley, and if they kill one of us the cleaning 
out will begin at once and will be thorough." 
We went to Lecompton, a motley crowd, some on foot 
and others, like Warren and I, on ponies; I should think 
the "battalion" numbered about 100. "Col." Eldridge 
made a demand for the guns as private property, and 
wound up by saying: "Governor, we merely demand our 
own, and are fully armed and determined to have those 
arms, Whether there will be a fight for them rests with 
