allotments. Many of them ran away and left their allotments and 
made their home in Old Mexico anyway. As mean a thing 1 as was 
ever done to the Indians was to persuade them to sell their Oklahoma 
Territory; by this entire hopes were shattered and they have died 
off until but few are left. The Kickapoo reservation was the next 
to be opened for settlement, a small reservation 25 miles square, very 
fertile, in which the North Canadian River was the line on one side. 
It was over this river I had my toll bridge. 
Just before the opening an old friend of mine, “Grandpa Couch” 
he was called, came to see me and asked if I would locate some of 
his grandchildren the day of the opening. I told him I would. The 
day before the opening three of his grandchildren who were over 21 
and Uncle Henry Couch came with them, camped at*my bridge. There 
were two young ladies and one young man by the name of Couch. 
One of the girls was Uncle Henry’s and the other was Captain Wm. 
Couch’s daughter, Minnie. The girls were cooking on an outdoor 
camp fire and Minnie seemed to be the principal cook; she had a 
stick with which she punched the fire. Uncle Henry had allowed 
his old bird dog to follow. Minnie had the things she had cooked 
sitting on the ground and the old bird dog stuck his nose in some 
of them. The girl was squatted down, with her big stick in her hand, 
one end of which was in the fire. Uncle Henry bawled out, “Minnie, 
kill that dog.” The girl looked over her shoulder and as she located 
the dog she struck back and hit him lengthwise of the back. From 
the way the dog ran and bellowed I think she must have broken his 
ribs loose from his backbone. Uncle Henry said, “Bless my life, I do 
believe you have killed my dog.” She replied, “Why. Uncle Henry, 
you told me to kill him.” The lick the girl gave the dog tickled me, 
and I said to her, “You are a- girl after my own heart.” 
The day came for the opening of the Kickapoo and it fell to mv 
lot to make the race with Minnie. The hour and minute arrived for the 
race for land, she riding a splendid pony which she called “Tnjin.” 
While it was no match for John, my red buck running horse, it was 
better than the ordinary horse. When the word was given we struck 
a bee line for Captain Creek, about eight miles distant. We were 
the first to strike the creek. We dismounted and there I staked the 
girl a fine 'claim. While I was rustling around the corners of the 
160-acre tract sticking up flag stakes, the girl remained where she 
dismounted. When I returned she was lying stretched out on a large 
flat rock; before she sat up I was afraid she might be ill, but she 
was only resting. We stayed on her claim until late in the afternoon, 
until she had witnesses to her location, and we then rode back to the 
bridge. The next day she filed her claim to the land and returned 
with one of her brothers, a wagon and team, a camping outfit and 
a plow with which to break some land to show evidence of actual 
settlement. 
I was over most every day to see “my girl,” as I called her. 
She was different than most girls; she reminded me of the pictures 
I had admired long ago in the Bible when Moses was a child and was 
— 82 — 
