May 20, ipos-l 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
891 
away, the rest of us ate hickory nuts, gathered a few 
miles from Columbus, Kentucky, on the river bank. 
They were nearly as large as hen's eggs, with meats like 
good walnuts. They were a part of every day's fare. 
Breakfast came at about 7 o'clock, hickory nuts at ii, 
dinner at 2 P. M., and supper at dark. "About all a 
man has to do on the river when he's tied in is eat," 
Pierce remarked. Between meals our pockets were 
tilled with pecan nuts, which were nibbred in the in- 
tervals of abstraction. Pierce was a good hunter, and 
he killed half a dozen ducks in the two days the wind 
held us to the bank at the first stopping. These_ birds 
were baked in delicious fashion, and served with biscuits 
and condensed milk and flour gravy. 
"The right kind of a river man never gets hungry," 
Pierce said. Considerable experience with the river 
people tended to confirm this. 
There were three dogs on the boat belonging to the 
woman. One was a shaggy, scowling little beast, and 
the other two were pups of small size and playful 
natures. Fortunately, all three were little ones, else 
the place had been crowded with dogs. As it was, the 
strangled yelp of a down-trodden purp was heard at 
frequent intervals. Pierce remarked in an aside one 
day: "I 'low there'll be an accident on this yere boat 
some day, with them pups figurin' eminent into hit." 
My note book, a g by 14 inch store record blank book, 
was a source of much interest to the river folk. Pierce 
remarked admiringly one day: "Say, Spears, it'd take 
a Philadelphia lawyer to read them writings, now, 
wouldn't it?" I allowed it would, and felt duly thank- 
ful for the fact. My studies of river life were written 
"by hand," while general notes I made on my type- 
writer on thin paper, and inserted them, according to 
the dates. I was reasonably sure that the inexperienced 
would be unable to read my pen-made observations, and 
took some long chances in order to preserve my facts. 
The river winds are fairly regular in their periods. 
There is likely to be a couple days of dead calm, and 
then a day of faint, shifting breezes. Then for two or 
three days the wind grows stronger and stronger all 
day long, starting at 10 o'clock the first morning, 8 
or 9 o'clock the second, and so on for three or four 
days, when a hard gale winds up in rain or sleet, and 
cold, followed by delightful sunshiny calm oiice more. 
One of Pierce's stories was of an acquaintance _ of 
his. Pierce is an agent for the Blake brothers, inedicine 
manufacturers, who do their business from cabin boats 
almost exclusively. They have a large number of cus- 
tomers on the bank, too, the varieties of Chickasaw 
medicines being sold at many plantation commissaries. 
There being a good deal of money in the medicine 
business, it is followed by all kinds of rascals on the 
river, as well as by legitimate dealers. One of the 
rascals, the acquaintance mentioned, came to Pierce's 
boat one night after dark, when he was tied in just 
above the mouth of the Red River. Pierce told of him: 
"He acted kind of nervous and flippy, and there was 
considerable mud round his pants legs, and he was 
kind of sweaty when he come aboard, but knowing him 
as I did, I didn't think nothing about it for some time, 
though it wa'n't jes' natural to drap down to me in a 
pointed skift, at 8 o'clock of a night. Fust thing I 
knowed I hearn some boats a-crossing the river about 
half a mile up stream. They was jes' a clickin' the oars 
an' they had a couple dogs on board what yelped con- 
siderable. Once in a while they'd strike a match an' 
some had headlights. The voices I heard were 
niggers by the sound of 'em. I said to the man, 
'Seems like they're runnin' a whiskey ferry up 
thataway.' Lawse! he jumped a foot into the 
air an' turned a pale yeller-white. I knowed somethin' 
wa'n't right, so I tole him to spit hit out. He done it. 
He'd been sellin' medicine up in the plantation quarters, 
an' had run out of belly wash, so he mixed up some 
liniment an' sold that fur internal use. Well, they \vas 
a woman thar who wa'n't very strong, an' the medicine 
killed her that night, an' next mornin' a baby died, an' 
toward night quite a number was took bad. He was 
a durned fool. He'd stayed around two days too long. 
Well, them niggers was jes' a-rippin' an' they knowed 
nothing would be said if they took after a medicine 
peddler, so they was after the man what had come to 
me. Hum-m, course, when I hearn that, I jest cut 
loose an' drapped down stream a ways, with no lights 
burnin'. I ain't the kind of a man to sit around while 
niggers is stringing up a white man, you bet I ain't." 
Stories, songs, remarks and planning as to the future 
were the rainy-day pastimes on the cabin boat. A 
Steele's geology was on board, also some novels and 
several almanacs, which were consulted, but not be- 
lieved in. Some local papers of a few weeks' age were 
also read, but they were not full of news. One_ para- 
graph told of a murder a few miles away, speaking of 
it as an "unfortunate fatality." Days of rain were suc- 
ceeded by "good floating," and we dropped along down 
stream. At Allisofi's landing half a dozen negroes 
hailed to know if we had any fish. "Lots of 'em!" 
answered Pierce. "We're going to tie in just below!" 
The negroes came down the bank, following the boat. 
They were still following when a bend intervened half 
a mile down stream. "That's the way we rig the 
niggers," Pierce remarked. " 
A mile down stream a sharp wind suddenly sprang 
up and drove the boat into a caving bank, in spite of 
hard rowing with the sweeps. The current carried us 
against the head of a raft of logs which a drifter had 
caught. We shoved around it and dropped into an 
eddy just below, where we rode a pretty swift little 
gale of wind that lasted three or four hours. 
"Did you git scared. Kid?" Tom asked his wife. 
"Humph!" she exclaimed. " 'Twa'n't the firs' time I 
been ketched up into a gale." 
By 2 o'clock the wind lay, and we dropped on down, 
Pierce remarking: "You got to take the wind as she 
comes, and crawl down stream between storms — hit's 
the only way." A lake a mile back from shore, a few 
miles further down, of which they knew, tempted Tom 
to try for some ducks. He went back and the rest of 
us ate pecans, the woman reading "The Hidden Hand," 
a novel. Another storm came on, this one a drizzly 
rain. Pierce thought it looked as though the winter 
had set in — ^Jan. 23 the day was. When Tom returned 
from his hunt he said it "looked like some business 
back in the country." He went back with his grip full 
of belts and mats and Chickasaw medicines. On his 
return he remarked: "I did $2 worth of business." 
He had been gone two hours. 
Pierce had been to Florida in his time, and said, "I 
might have made a young fortune right there. They 
were a man who had a whole orchard full of lemon 
trees. Told me I could have all I wanted of thern — 
two, three car-loads. But I didn't know what to do with 
them." Three days later, when he reached Evansville, 
111., he found lemons selling at $7 a crate of 100 each. 
Other opportunities had come to Pierce, and he had 
gained on some of them. His readiness was indicated 
by the fact that he and his son were looking for the 
job of building some quarters for negroes, having as a 
carpenter outfit one plane, a hammer, a saw, and a 
square, "I can't use but one plane to a time!" Pierce 
said. 
Finding this landing a good place to sell stuff, the 
two dressed up in outfits that included new clothes and 
celluloid collars, and made ready to go trading. I 
crossed the river to try for a flock of wild geese, at the 
head of a sandbar. I needed a rifle, for when I was 
still a hundred yards from the birds, I found a wide, 
level surface of sand intervening between us. I watched 
them, in hopes they'd walk my way, but they did not. 
A shot at a flock of passing ducks started the big birds. 
When I returned I found the two men taking six 
dozen eggs out of their grips, while two old hens and a 
rooster flapped on the floor. "They jes' had to have 
them belts!" Pierce remarked with a chuckle, "and we 
tuck the chicks to accommodate them." 
"The way I sells is this," he continued: "If he's a 
pretty wise looking nigger, I tell him I'm handling 
electrical goods; but if he ain't, I jes' say I've got 
electric belts. If he's feeling the least bit out of order, 
I'll sell him one. I got that hunk of pork, too," he said, 
pointing tO' a slab of six pounds weight on the table 
which I hadn't noticed. 
Most remarkable of the goods that Pierce carried 
was a pill bottle "electric battery." It consisted of a 
piece of corn pith through which a bit of copper wire 
was thrust. A tiny wad of cotton, a cork and a drop 
of chemical with a scent so strong that a whiff of it 
brought tears to my eyes, was the "battery." I don't 
know what the drug was, but it's odor passed for 
electricity with the negroes, and the bottles were sold 
at from fifty cents to a dollar each, according to the 
purse of the purchaser. 
"The only kind of real rascality I ever did," Pierce 
said, "was to pass counterfeits what I'd got stuck on." 
We were looking for Burke's landing, where the con- 
tract of putting up cabins was supposed to be. We 
came to an island, No. 63, I believe, on which a saw mill 
had been erected. Tom and his wife went visiting 
there, expecting to see some friends who came down 
the river ahead of them. Pierce and I continued on 
down the chute and tied in at a landing, where some 
negroes asked who we were. Pierce explained that he 
was selling electrical goods, and invited them down. 
They didn't come down just then, and Pierce told about 
how mean the bank people were sometimes, "But they 
don't bother me, and I don't bother them," he ex- 
claimed. Then five negroes appeared. 
Pierce called them "gentlemen," set out chairs for 
them, and was as polite as possible. He explained how 
to make the electricity by holding the copper links of 
the belt folded in the hand till it was warm. Then put 
it on. The wife of one of the visitors was subject to 
pains, and this visitor borrowed a dollar with which to 
purchase one of the infallible belts. On his departure, 
Pierce grinned. "Isn't that the way to talk to them?" 
Five minutes later a smooth-shaven, deep sunken- 
eyed young man appeared at the top of the bank forty 
feet away. "You all move out of yere, don't you all 
stay yere to-night !" 
Pierce invited him to come down, and then said he 
would go. For fifteen minutes he scanned the chute 
up stream, and said he wished Tom would come. The 
negro who had purchased the belt then appeared. 
"The boss says he all 'lows this yere ain' no good," 
the negro said, "an' I wants my money back." 
Pierce wet his lips, and I wondered what was going 
to happen. 
The demand for the return of the money evidently 
was entirely against Pierce's principles of doing busi- 
ness. He looked at the negro to whom he had sold 
the electric belt, and then he took a look at the top of 
the bank. A few yards down stream was the head of a 
darky scrutinizing the cabin boat. Sight of him decided 
Pierce, and he handed the dollar back. 
"You all oughtn't to buy if you don' intend to keep," 
he remarked. 
The negro returned the belt, and took the coin. 
When he was gone, Pierce said: "I'd ought to pulled 
out right away, an' I'd done hit if Tom had been here." 
He cast anxious glances at the bank from time to 
time, and studied the current in the chute. "That cur- 
rent's so plaguey swift out there I don't reckon we 
could cross to the island. I don't 'low we'd better 
stay yere much longer, though. Them bank fellers is 
pretty bad. They've got us foul yere an' if we staid 
to-night they'd shore fill this boat full of lead, they 
shore would. I reckon we can make yon island— if we 
can't, Tom can find us down below somewheres, if he 
don't start too late." 
With that he cast the lines from the bank and, giving 
the boat a shove, he jumped aboard and in a few 
minutes we were making our way diagonally across 
the chute. The current was not so bad as Pierce feared, 
for it eddied near the foot of the island, and did not 
carry us past. Tied to some willows, we awaited the 
coming of Tom and his wife. An hour later they came 
down the chute, and Tom laughed aloud at Pierce's 
description of the sale and refund. We dropped down 
to a place just above Modoc landing, where we tied 
in again, but Mr. Pierce did not recover his jovial 
spirits for some time thereafter. 
He was inclined to take a more cheerful view of the 
affair on the following day. "He's ashamed of himself 
now," he remarked. "I treated him so nice and polite." 
It was his opinion that the reason why so much ob- 
jection is offered to river medicine and other peddlers 
by the plantation owners is because the plantation men 
want all the trade to come to the commissaries. To 
the remark which the plantation owners make about 
river goods to' the effect that, "they're; no account," the 
river man frequently argues, "the stuff the robissaries 
sell ain't no better, and why shouldn't we have a share 
in the niggers' money?" 
While we were talking to some visitors from other 
cabin boats, a covered gasolene came in. All hands 
went up on the bank to greet the newcomers. There 
were several on the gasolene, but only one showed 
his face — and only half of that from behind the canvas 
curtain. He wanted to know what landing that was, 
and if there was any news from up the river. Learning 
that it was Modoc, and that "nothing doing" was the 
news item, the gasolene backed out and shot away down 
stream, while the river men on the bank exchanged 
significant glances. One class of river pirates travel 
in small launches, and do a lot of thievery, trusting to 
the speed of the propeller to take them clear of the 
local police authorities. 
Asking Tom what was the usual river law, as regards 
the cabin boaters, he reached for a big revolver in a 
trunk nearby and patted it: "This is law!" he said. 
One curious story was told by the Pierces. They, 
were tied in at Lake Palmyra, just below- Vicksburg, 
with another river character called Huffman. Huffman 
was in a 6x10 boat, covered by a combination of rags 
and planks. With Huffman was his wife and a boy of 
ten years. Nearby was one Hogan, whose wife, known 
as Ruby, was with him. This couple were in a boat 
similar to the one occupied by the Huffmans. Ruby 
and her husband had a falling out, and she vowed to 
leave him, upon hearing which, Huffman went to 
Hogan and a bargain was struck of a sort known to 
the annals of the river as "wife swapping." Huffman 
said he was a poor man, but he could afford to give 
$2.50 for Ruby. • Hogan said, "She's going anyhow, so 
here's where I get some plunks," and he accepted the 
offer. That night, while he was playing the card game 
of hearts on the Pierce boat. Ruby appeared with the 
money, and said: "Here, I leave you now." He took 
the money, and the woman departed. 
"Do you know," Pierce said, "Huffman had two 
women now, so he comes up and offers me his old one. 
Humph! He went away with the both of 'ern and the 
boy onto his boat, and he had to tote his old wife mighty 
nigh to Lake Providence 'fore he could find a husband 
for her, then Ruby up and left him, and he didn't have 
anybody." 
Up in Scott county, Mo., a similar transaction ^vas 
made, only in this instance the consideration was a side 
of bacon given with his wife in exchange for another 
woman whose worth was enough more to make up for 
the other one's lack of good qualities. 
I use the word "wife" advisedly. A few years ago 
Indians engaged in just such transactions as those de- 
scribed in the same region. One could hardly call some 
of the river people "immoral," they are simply with- 
out the moral sense. One sees wedding certificates in 
many cabin boats. In some instances, the original 
names of the contracting parties have both been 
scratched out, and others substituted, and it takes an 
ex-sheriff to see the absurdity of the act. 
Raymond S. Spears. 
Memories of the Buffalo Range. 
IIL— The Last of the Plains Buffalo. 
Year after year the trade went on, the Indians bring- 
ing in each season a certain number of dressed robes, 
and from time to time a little other fur. Hostiles fresh 
from fights with the troops would occasionally come 
in to trade, sometimes running away to Canada, at others 
merely joining a camp of people who were supposed to 
be friendly. I heard of- one Indian who had a gold 
watch reported to havi been Gen. Custer's, or, at all 
events, to have been taken on that battlefield, and I 
tried to get it, but the Indian was afraid to show him- 
self or the watch to me. 
As time went on I kept careful account of the action 
and movements of the buffalo, the skins of which formed 
the bulk of the trade. A new problem presented itself 
when the skin hunters began to come into Montana in 
large numbers from Smoky Hill, Kansas, country with 
their heavy guns and ammunition as killers of the 
buffalo. From conversation with the leaders of the 
bands of hunters, I found that they had been killing 
the buffalo for his hide in the south, and after ex- 
terminating the southern herd, they could not give up 
the northern herd, whose numbers it was apparent to 
any careful observer were already fast decreasing. 
Driving about from camp to camp I had noticed with 
real regret the merciless slaughter of the great game 
by the hide hunter. 
I had been on the frontier since my boyhood days, 
and it always appeared to me that the buffalo was the 
noblest game that man was ever blessed with. I re- 
member a time when the pioneer settlers living in Sun 
River Valley and the northern part of Montana were 
eaten out by grasshoppers, their crops being entirely 
destroyed. When there seemed nothing left for them 
but to starve, they abandoned the ranches, took their 
tents and went to the buffalo range and lived during the 
winter upon the buffalo, getting together enough hides 
by the Indian mode of hunting— -running them on horse- 
back — to enable them to buy seed in the spring and 
again to plant their crops. In so many ways had I 
seen that great game so beneficial to the people of the 
frontier, where they were hunted in a sane manner, that 
I had always felt as though I would like to do something 
to assist in their protection. Now, when the army of 
buffalo hunters from the southern country came into 
Montana, I concluded that I would call on the military 
and appeal to them to see if something could not be 
done to prevent the extermination. For this purpose 
I made a trip to Fort Buford to consult with the army 
officers and appeal to them to see if a means could not 
be found to stop the hide hunter. 
After I had carefully gone over the matter with the 
commanding officer there, he very abruptly informed 
me th;j1; the buffalo was the commissary of the Indian, 
and he believed that the only way that was open to 
