



SEPT. 7, 1907.] 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
375 

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meandering through a wide chasm bordered by 
a dense forest of pecan and other nut-bearing 
trees. This wilderness, which was about 150 
miles west of San Antonio, was truly the 
hunter's paradise. Game was constantly in 
one’s path, and was hunted only by the train- 
men, Indians and the few sportsmen and lovers 
of the chase. Owing to this fact, all the wild 
things were quite tame, even the big black-tailed 
deer that are now about extinct, owing to 
the constant slaughter that has been carried 
on among them since civilization reached their 
feeding grounds. 
Frontiersmen and Indians killed for food 
orly. He was esteemed a poor marksman who 
could not hit his game just where he desired. 
There were buffalo, bears, blacktailed and other 
deer, antelope, panthers, wildcats, Mexican 
tigers and all the wolf tribe along that river, 
and sometimes their cries made night hideous 
to the tenderfoot, but they were pleasant 
sounds to my ears. 
Smaller animals were the squirrels, black, fox 
and gray, by the thousands, and_ then that 
devilish little wild hog, the peccary, which would 
get you up a tree quicker than a bear. All 
the feathered tribe was in evidence and seemed 
to court our acquaintance. 
In the fall of 1868 our train was crossing the 
country between Chihuahua, Mexico, and San 
Antonio, Texas, a distance of 800 miles, freight- 
ing all kinds of merchandise from San Antonio 
to Chihuahua. Fort Stockton was the half- 
way place, and the only location of troops be- 
tween the two points. It was right in the 
heart of the country of the Comanches, at that 
time a powerful fighting tribe. 
The train consisted of sixteen big freight 
wagons carrying 6,000 pounds to a wagon, a pro- 
vision wagon and an ambulance, such as army 
officers use. There were twenty-seven Mexican 
drivers and herders, an American wagon master 
and myself, as clerk or purser of the train. 
Every man carried a pair of Colt revolvers 
and a good rifle hung to his wagon, as the 
Indians frequently objected to white men enter- 
ing his domain. The object of their attacks 
was not so much to kill as it was to stampede 
and steal our stock, which was generally at- 
tempted, at night; so it was necessary to guard 
against a surprise. A corral was formed of 
the wagons, and strong ropes tied from wheel 
to wheel, making a substantial fort and corral 
for the stock. No feed was carried, the stock 
subsisting entirely on the nutritious gramma, or 
buffalo grass. At night it was herded by shifts 
of strong guards, six or eight men to a shift, 
and in dangerous locations the guards were 
doubled, always herding the animals as near 
the wagons as possible. 
We had been living pretty well on buffalo, 
venison and antelope, ducks, geese and prairie 
chicken, which we found time to shoot as we 
traveled along slowly, making about thirty 
miles a day. A young man, Mr. Johnson, was 
traveling across with us, for trainmen are al- 
ways glad to have an additional hand on those 
trips. He was well armed and as fond of guns 
and hunting as I was. Experience on the 
frontier had imbued him with the idea that a 
very small bunch of grass sometimes concealed 
an Indian, and he was ever on the alert, and no 
doubt felt confident as to his ability to take 
care of himself in any kind of a scrape. 
Evening was falling; each moment the 
shadows were growing longer; the great red 
disk of the sun was slowly sinking to rest, mak- 
ing a picture to gladden the eye of an artist; 
the birds of day were circling around as if about 
to seek their roosts; the hoot of an owl, low 
and distant, heightened the solemnity of the 
hour and place. We were nearing a safe and 
convenient camping ground for the night, the 
mules were braying and hastening their steps, 
seeming to scent the water a short distance 
ahead, eager to be released from their day's 
work. Two or three hundred yards from the 
road small herds and scattered buffalo were 
quietly feeding, and just around the point of a 
small ridge thickly studded with live oak and 
mesquite bushes I observed ten or twelve big 
buffalo standing in the shade. 
I remarked to Johnson, “It looks as if we 
might get a shot at those fellows from the 
crest of that ridge. Let us try it.” 
Out of the ambulance we climbed, both carry- 
ing the old army Spencer rifles. We approached 
them slowly, and when we reached the crest 
of the ridge, there right below us, some sixty 
yards away, stood several big bulls. We were 
selecting the most likely safe shot, when I 
observed a pair of fine fat steers, or oxen, 
yoked together, standing broadside to us and 
but a few yards beyond the buffalo. Having 
grown somewhat tired of game, salt meat and 
frijoles, I remarked to my companion, “Draw 
a bead on that fellow, and let the buffalo go.” 
He looked at me as if he thought I had but 
small regard for other people’s property, but 
I explained to him we were a good 150 miles 
from civilization and the oxen had evidently 
strayed or stampeded from some ox train 
months before and were now the property of 
the one who could bag them dead or alive, and 
told him to get a sight “on that chap’s ribs 
about where you think his heart is.” 
I counted three, and as one our shots 
rang out, the echo rebounding from the rocky 
cliffs along the river, there was a_ terrible 
commotion around that yoke of steers, and in 
the death struggle the other steer broke the 
bow that bound him to his falling mate and 
bounded away. 
Aiter the confusion our shots had created of 
rushing buffalo, howling wolves and scamper- 
ing deer, we hastily looked about for Indians 
and then hurried down to our now almost life- 
less game and bled him. 
The train had gone into camp about a 
quarter of a mile east of us, and we hastened 
back toward camp. Just around the ridge we 
met the wagon master and four of his best 
men coming in haste to see what kind of a hole 
we had gotten into. He was much pleased to 
find us safe, and beef for supper. Four strong 
mules were brought out and our beef was 
shortly in camp, skinned, quartered and made 
ready for pot and frying-pan. 
To picture the scene of such a camp, a bold 
and an exceptionally retentive mind are needed. 
I remember the solitary plains which lay around, 
behind, before, the few signs of travel, the un- 
touched but luxuriant soil. I remember how 
like the welcome face of a smiling friend, the 
full, round moon appeared, lifting her silvery 
disk above the distant mountain tops, dispersing 
the shadows the sun had left, till all was bathed 
in a soft silvery sheen. 
We were thirty strong, robust men, sun- 
browned from exposure that was the elixir of 
health, standing or sitting around several camp- 
fires, eagerly, expectantly watching the prepar- 
ing of supper. The drivers and herders messed 
together, six or eight to the mess, and their 
rations were isued in army fashion. Regula- 
tions and discipline were as rigorously observed 
as in a banking house, rebellious characters 
were discharged at either end of the journey 
without regard to their homes. This was the 
code among train owners and wagon masters, 
and no deviation was tolerated. Our stock con- 
sisted of 235 mules. six or eight Mexican or 
mustang riding ponies, a white bell mare, to 
which the mules soon became much attached 
and followed as a dog follows its master. 
Merchandise was transported in_ prairie 
schooners in the old fashion, which continued 
up to the date of the construction of the great 
trans-continental railroad lines, Texas freighters 
being about the last who were put out of the 
business. 
The days of the great western plains are 
days to be read of. Those days, like the great 
flocks of the passenger pigeons. the countless 
herds of buffalo and the great tribes of Indians 
that the buffalo fed, clothed and housed, are 
things of the past. Our children will never see 
them, for the advance of civilization mowed 
them down. In those days men became closely 
associated in one common cause. The instinct 
of self-preservation bound them together and 
few or many on such voyages all had at heart 
a mutual understanding without expression that 
they would stand by each other until death 
stilled the hand from further defense. 
Joun D. AYERS. 
Some Old Guns. 
Editor Forest and Stream: 
Mr. Meyrick’s very interesting letters remind 
me that I never finished what I had to say 
about my early experiences in shooting, and as 
they have covered quite a variety of firearms, 
a few words more may be admissible and in- 
teresting. 
I spoke of the two old Windsor rifles owned 
by two of my oldtime playfellows, and as these 
were of a form now obsolete, I may describe 
them. They were very simple. The hammer 
and nipple were on the under side of the barrel 
with a straight main spring and a very light 
stock. The larger one had a barrel about two 
feet long and was topheavy. The smaller one 
had a pistol barrel, eight or ten inches long, 
fitted to a rather crude stock, but was a vety 
accurate and convenient little tool, and we shof 
many a chipmunk with it. They carried a ball 
of about eighty to the pound, as we then eauged 
them, but had the great fault of the liability of 
the caps to drop off when we cocked them to 
fire. However, they gave me my first experience 
in target shooting. 
The next rifle I got hold of was an English 
one with a trap barrel about eighteen inches 
long, which had belonged to an old friend in 
New York. It was a very well finished little 
gun, but somewhat worn, and the sights were 
apt to get loose and bother me, but I carried 
it a couple of years and shot some squirrels 
with it. About the same time, in 1836, I had 
a visit from a young friend from’ Boston, who 
brought with him a curious Spanish gun with 
the main spring and hammer on the outside of 
the cock as well as the priming pan. The barrel 
was blued and slightly bell-muzzled, and was 
I should think, about a fifteen gauge, but this 
was seventy years ago, and my memory is no} 
very clear. I know he shot robins enough foj 
a pie in black cherry time. 
My next experience was with a gun made b 
an old country blacksmith and gunsmith, an: 
was simply a heavy rifle with the grooves bore 
out. This was such a small bore and so heav 
that, using the coarse shot, which rifle practic 
had made me think necessary, I was not vet 
successful with it, and I soon tired of carryir 
the load. Then I got hold of another flintloc 
single-barreled gun, belonging to an old lawye 
a great friend of my father’s. It was rather 
highly finished piece with a delicate lock, an 
the vent or touch hole, as the boys called 
bushed with gold. The only fault with this gt 
was that the vent was so small that it requir 
very fine grained powder, or it would flash 
the pan. However, I once dropped a gray squ 
rel with it on the jump as he leaped from oné 
tree to another, and was on the whole quite 
successful with it. This practically finished my 
boyish shooting, but the last year that I was 
at home, in 1840, a young man named Tirrell 
came up to my native town to study law with 
the late Judge Cushing, of the Supreme Court 
of New Hampshire, and brought with him two 
guns, made Wy one Pratt, of Roxbury, one a 
rifle of about .32 caliber, and the other a single 
barreled shotgun which I should think might 
have been about fourteen gauge. 
These were both excellent weapons, and my 
friend used to go out with his shotgun in com- 
pany with a young shoemaker who was a sort 
of duplicate Nessmuk, carrying the rifle and 
bringing in a good many squirrels, which were 
the favorite game of the country. I well re- 
member on Election day, 1840. when Harrison 
was first elected, their bringing twelve gray 
squirrels and one black one. 
During my six years in Lowell my vacations 
were mostly spent in trout fishing, and I re- 
member going shooting but once, when I ac- 
companied a couple of English overseers in the 
hills one day when the works were stopped for 
some repairs. I then used a double barreled 
gun, loaned me by the late Adj.-Gen. William 
Schonler, of Massachusetts, which his father had 
brought f 
































































from Scotland some years before. 
It was a beautifully finished gun, about twenty 
gauge, I should think, and I shot two grouse 
or partridges, as we called them. that day, drop- 
ping one by a snapshot from the hip as he swung 
