528 
FOREST AND STREAM 
April 27, 1912 
blue canopy with the plain stretching to the limit 
of vision in every direction, I seemed as the 
veriest atom swallowed up in immensity. At 
such times my memory would play tricks and 
I would find myself wondering what I was and 
how I came to be mixed up with such surround¬ 
ings. Then again I would make a confidant of my 
pony, telling him my hopes and fears and con¬ 
verse with him on terms of equality, though the 
thought would force itself upon me that he was 
the more sensible of the two. I am confident 
that he sympathized with me, for when we halted 
and he was staked out to nibble the scant her¬ 
bage, he would come every minute or two and 
rub his nose affectionately against me and try 
to tell me how lonesome he was. 
One day when we had surmounted a hummock 
considerably higher than its fellows, away to the 
westward I espied the outlines of a man on 
horseback, silhouetted against the horizon. I ex¬ 
perienced a complete revulsion of feeling and a 
great wave of joy rolled over my soul as I re¬ 
flected that I was not really the last of my 
species, wandering aimlessly over a barren wild¬ 
erness. Then an irresistible desire to hear the 
sound of a human voice took possession of me 
and I waved my hat in the hope of attractmg 
the attention of the solitary horseman. To my 
unspeakable joy he halted, rose in his sfrrups, 
and began swinging his hat in an answering 
salute. I think it no reflection upon my manli¬ 
ness to state that I wept for sheer happiness 
when, after swinging his hat for a minute, he 
turned his horse’s head and began to ride in 
my direction, 
I galloped to meet the man. Had I known for 
a certainty that he was one of the most desper¬ 
ate outlaws I would have hastened none the less. 
Of one thing I was certain: he was a man, and 
I had no wish to entertain problematic opinions 
as to his character. After another half hour I 
was rejoiced to hear a human voice for the first 
time in what seemed to me an age. Coming over 
the summit of a sharp ridge, the horseman let 
go a loud shout. “Hallo-o-o” came ricochetting 
over the hummocks, the sweetest sound that ever 
greeted my ears. “Hallo, hallo, hallo-o-o-o. ’ I 
responded, standing in my stirrups and swinging 
my hat. Three minutes later two men m'ght 
have been seen to throw themselves from their 
saddles, grasp each other’s hands, look into each 
other’s eyes, and then cry like babies. The poor 
wretch had suffered as much as I had. He was 
a few years older than myself, but this was his 
first experience in crossing the plains alone. He 
was en route from his father’s ranch in Western 
Kansas to Arkansas City. It was about a week 
since he crossed the Santa Fe trail where he 
had camped with a trading party. Since then he 
had seen no human face and was feeling the in¬ 
fluence of solitude nearly as keenly as myself. 
He, too, had lost track of the dav of the month, 
but he said it was within two days of July i. 
This showed me that I had wandered for about 
three weeks. 
]My new-found friend was well equipped with 
shooting utensils, but was lacking in provisions. 
He was not loth to accept my invitation to camp 
with me, and though mv jack rabbit was ex¬ 
hausted, we made a comfortable supper on the 
dried meats and biscuit which my saddle bag 
larder afforded. In fact, the hitherto unappetiz¬ 
ing food assumed a decree of palatableness in 
the presence of a companion who seemed to 
relish it. Having made camp at an early hour, 
we had two or three hours of daylight after 
supper which we improved by scouring the tim¬ 
ber, scrubby oak and wild plum, adjoining the 
water course near the camp. Several rabbits of 
the common kind rewarded our quest, and my 
friend proved himself an excellent marksman by 
tumbling one over with his revolver. I suc¬ 
ceeded in bringing down a large hawk. We 
dressed the rabbit and rolled up in our blankets 
for the night. It must have been well along 
toward morning when we finally quit talking 
and went to sleep. 
Breakfast over, and just as we had comfort¬ 
ably ensconced ourselves for a good smoke, my 
pony gave a snort and stood with head and ears 
elevated looking intently across the plain. Fol¬ 
lowing with our eyes the direction indicated, we 
saw away down on the horizon the outlines of 
a drove of animals. My first thought was, “They 
are buffalo,’’ and my heart gave a great leap in 
anticipation of my first chase and shot at the 
royal game. But on intimating my belief to my 
companion, he seemed to regard me with pity 
as he smiled at my fallacious young ideas. 
“There are no buffalo within 500 miles of here,’’ 
he said, adding; “Those are either the cattle on 
a ranchman’s range or, what is more likely, a 
bunch that has stampeded from a drive: there 
isn’t grass enough on these plains for a man to 
risk a drove of that size.” 
After regarding the cattle for a few moments 
he suggested that we ride out and inspect them 
at closer range. I readily assented, and we sad¬ 
dled up, leaving our effects in the edge of the 
scrub. My friend took the precaution to climb 
one of the taller scrub oaks and tie his handker¬ 
chief to the topmost twig to insure our locating 
the place again. I had noticed with chagrin that 
my companion had several times regarded Skee- 
zik in a manner that told me plainly what was 
his opinion of my mount. Added to this, just 
as we mounted, he slipped his rein to the lower 
curb and I understood the action. I was thor¬ 
oughly nettled and had difficulty in keeping back 
what trembled on my tongue’s end. 
My friend had a five-year-old chestnut gelding 
of good parts, a handsome animal, and the con¬ 
trast between it and Skeezik made the latter 
appear even more shabby and insignificant than 
his wont. But I knew something of what lay 
beneath that ragged buckskin exterior. 
“We’d better push on a trifle faster, or we 
won’t get back to-day,” remarked my compan¬ 
ion after we had loped along for perhaps an 
hour, and the cattle seemed but little nearer than 
when we first started, and we could see that they 
were also moving with considerable rapidity at 
an obtuse angle to the course we were following. 
I understood his purpose. “All right,” I said; 
“my pony can stand a faster pace.” I touched 
him with the spur and he shot ahead, passing 
the other horse, whose rider gave him a liberal 
dose of both whip and spur. I had the lead 
and determined to keep it. Skeezik was now 
going at a good, round gallop, while his pony 
was doing just about all he knew how. I also 
remarked, by the hard wheezing of my pursuer. 
' that his wind was greatly inferior to that of my 
mount. I could hardly repress a chuckle as I 
gave Skeezik his head and a rake with both 
spurs at the same time. 
The pony gave a bound and buckled down to 
a wild run that quickly left the puffing hrute of 
my friend away to the rear. I gained rapidly 
upon the herd of cattle, which numbered sev¬ 
eral bundreds and were now running at top speed 
to escape their pursuers. They were mostly three 
and four-year-olds of the long-horned Texas 
species, and with their tails standing straight 
above their backs, they thundered on at a terrific 
rate, fairly causing the ground to tremble. I 
was too deeply absorbed in the chase to notice 
what had become of my companion. Skeezik 
had the bit in his teeth, his blood was up and 
he was utterly beyond my power of control. As 
we neared the herd he never swerved an atom, 
but kept right ahead and was soon in the thick 
of the crazy drove. Finally a three-year-old bull 
attempted to cross diagonally in front of us and 
Skeezik’s breast struck the animal squarely on 
the side. With a wild bleat of fear the animal 
went rolling over and over along the plain, while 
Skeezik turned an almost complete somersault 
and struck heavily on his side. As he went over 
I threw my feet from the stirrups, and as he 
came down, I jumped to his head and held him 
fast. Fortunately, he was not injured, nor was 
a strap broken. The unlucky bull was dragging 
himself painfully away on three legs. 
I now espied my friend galloping toward me 
and a half mile away. Coming up, he looked 
Skeezik over critically before saying a word. 
The homely brute was placidly nibbling the scanty 
herbage, giving no sign by his breathing that he 
had made a long, fierce run. “That’s the greatest 
horse I ever saw.” was my friend’s final verdict, 
comparing the animal wdth his own, which 
seemed almost on the verge of collapse. 
Though my friend knew but little more* of the 
topography of the country than I did, yet he 
was able to give me sufficient information to con¬ 
vince me that instead of approaching the Arkan¬ 
sas River, I had been for days riding almost 
parallel to its course. The river crosses the 
State diagonally in a southeasterly course. It 
seems that instead of traveling a due westerly 
course as I intended, I had borne gradually to 
the northwest. I also found that I was about 
one-fourth “turned around” in respect to the 
points of the compass; a fact, I learned after¬ 
ward, common to prairie travelers during the 
summer months when the sun is far to the 
northward. 
The experience of the past few weeks had 
thoroughly disenchanted me of the free pleasure 
of solitary traveling, and when the suggestion 
was made that we resolve ourselves into a cara¬ 
van of two, I acquiesced readily and heartily. 
My friend, who said his name was John LeValli- 
lee, was in no hurry to reach his destination, as 
he said he had intended to take quite a vacation 
before buckling into work, so we arranged to 
strike for the timber lands of the Arkansas bot¬ 
toms and enjoy a good hunt together. Despite 
what I learned in the strangers’ camp near the 
Osage, I had no misgivings as to my friend being 
other than he represented himself. At all events 
he was a human being and as such was infinitely 
more desirable than the loneliness which haunted 
me lik(^a nightmare. He was a good talker, with 
a vein of caustic humor, verging upon sarcasm, 
in his make-up. He possessed another quality 
which I appreciated, though it was negative. He 
lacked what so many of my own sort of folks 
possess almost abnormally, namely, curiosity; or, 
if he had it, he was careful not to manifest it 
through personal interrogatories, hence I told 
