Image provided by: University of Nebraska-Lincoln Libraries, Lincoln, NE
About The frontier. (O'Neill City, Holt County, Neb.) 1880-1965 | View Entire Issue (June 4, 1925)
^ ■ ■ ii- — ...» "—Hi <i in ""i—i ...—i——... . ■ As the clays slipped by, wonder ful, exiting days lor Davy, Bran don made the acquaintance ot many of these wayfarers, a rough, good-natured crew,, but a hard-swearing, hard drinking lot, neither under loading or expecting to be understood, unlss talk bristled with j1 unity. At ingot they jammed the bar, deep, bois terous laughter roaring to the ceiling as they shouted their jokes, told wild tales and “set lip” drinks, round after round of raw liquor. Their talk was of the upper Missouri, the new settle ments in Kansas where farms were being taken up and where towns were springing from the prairie; of the declining fur trade, of the Indian troubles, of link strange new folks that were ^making an empire upon thee edge of the great Salt Lake ; gos sip of a score of trails. Brandon listened keenly, hoping to pick up news of value. His patience was rewarded. One night, after a day of sight seeing that had sent Davy early to the Land of Nod, he joined a group in the bar and found them idly discussing an expedition which was being orgnnizeed for the new territory of Washing ton. It came out that Govcnnr Stevens, who had just been appointed as the first ruler of the territory, was expect ed to lead up the Missouri and over the Oregon Trail u big out fit of surveyors, scouts, and soldiers, with horses and mules. Brandon heard that agents of the governor were diekring with the Amrit an Fur Company to transport men and equipment up the Missouri to St. Paul, lie inquired of a raw-boned Miaac irian, who had nodded to him once or twice, if it would be possible for him to find a job with the Governor Stevens outfit. The M ssouriuu looked Big Dave over from head to foot, appraisingly, down ed half a tin-cupful of whiskey and spoke his mind. By th heft of ye, stranger, I reckon y’ ain’t afeerd uv work, but by the etarnal! you’ll need every-ounce uv yer grit ’f ye trail with that outfit! 1 kinda cotton to ye. What’s yer name? Brandon, eh? Well, Brandon, I happen to be part of that-out fit myself, lladdon's my name and Bill’s the handle my old man sawdered onter it. Now, here's the layout. Stevens is fakin’ with him nigh outer two hundred uv the-d-est, a man loose from his appitite. They’er reg’lnr wild cats, these cannaries. Handlin’ them is jest like handlin’ eels thet hov ewallered dynamite. The out fit needs good men and if yer «ot on takin’ a chance, by Bill Haddon’ll put in a word fer ye where it’ll ring the bell.” Mr. lladdon, a competent mule skinner, proved to be a man of his word, whose recommendation Bzindon was regularly enlisted as a member of the party. Bui there was weary waiting before Governor Stevens arrived and the expedition got under way. Big l)a"e’s patience was soreely tirod before the light-draught steamboat, backed away from the levee and Lreastcd the tide of the Mississippi, pushing ahead of it the flatboats which carried live-stock and piled-up stores. THE RIVER ROAD Kiver travel, a few days up the ^Mississippi, then into the turbulent Missouri, was a vivid delight to little Davy. The “lit ttle feller,” us Steven’s men cal led him—he was the only child i the party of two hundred—was ^petted and pampered by every «*one from the governor down to i£hc mule-skinners and the half breed interpreters. lie had the run of the boat, from the cap tain’s cabin to the lower deck where the roustabouts worked, gambled and slept. To Davy they were all good friends. From them he learned something of Hie great, new country beyond the bend of the river. His man liness and bright, cheerful spirit had no little influence upon the men. With Davy around, thev worked more willingly and soft ened their oaths, although Bran don occasionally winced at some of the language which fell upon the ears of his small son. ©teamboating up the Missouri River in the Spring of the year was a toilsome and dangerous business. Bankful in early Spring flood, the threat river dipve southward with savage force, fighting the puny boat i every, fathom of the way, and launching an endless succession of snags, inanimate monsters of destruction. Any one of these half-submerged trees, wrenched from forests a thousand miles distant, would have ripped the bottom out of the craft if her crew had not been incessantly vigilant. With spars and long plte-polcs they fended off the lunging snags, working at night in the light of whale-oil flares, mysterious shadows struggling with invisable monsters. More than once Davy heard the cry, (“M^an overboard!” and was carried to the rail in a surge of men to see the bobbing head and waving arms being swiftly draged down-river by the raeinb current. At night he liked to sit just forward of the “texas” where the boat’s officers slep, and to gaze upward at the tall smoke stacks pouring flame into a star less night. To the Jboy’s ears would come the hoarse, but mel odious chant of the quarter master and learsmen calling the channel depth to the pilot, a kind of sorrowful strain which took his thoughts back to Spring field and Miriam. But not for long. It was all too thrilling, this wonderful river-road jour ney, for the melancholy of home sickness to tind an abiding place in the swift thoughts of the boy. Davy was living for himself a book of travel, more fascinating than any he had ever read. Tho Dregon “laid up” at the old trading post of Bellevue, one pitch-black nigh':, and Davy ac companied his father and half the boat’s company to the tavern. It was kept by Colonel Sarpy, an early-comer in the country, and now the trader at Bellevue for the American Fur Company. He was under-sized, dark of complexion, quick in his move ments, jolished in his manners. “Fire-eater,” said Bill Had don in Brandon’s ear. “Little as he is, the Omahas call him "'Bag OliJ^cf, ’—‘ Ne-Ka-Yah-IIe, ’ in their lingo. Stands on his dignity. There’s a fool who’ll get a lesson 1” iv Dig mule-whacker, thirsty for liquor, had shoved through the crowded bar, unceremoni ously elbowing Sarpy out of his way. The little Colonel followed . the teamster to the bar and faced him, eyes blazing. The teamster looked down at the bantom, grinned and spat in con tempt. Sarpy spoke, every word cracking like a whip: “Do you know who 1 am, sir? I am Peter A. Sarpy, sir! The old horse on the sand bar, sir! If you want to fight, I am your man, sir! I can whip the devil, sir! Choose your weapons, sir! Bowie knife, shotgun or revol ver, 1 am your man, sir!” With a lightning movement lie whipped out his long-barreled Colt’s forty-five, and snuffed a eandlee down the bar, ten paces distant. The mule-wliacker’s jaw dropped and fear crept in to his eyes. Without another word, he edged away from the little man of wrath and slipped around the wall to the door, through which he vanished in to the night. A roar of laugh ter went up. Colonel Sarpy calmly replaced his pistol and reesumed walking up and down, with an occasional word to an acquaintance. Almost every day the boat made long stops at a woodvard where corded fuel was waiting, ready stacked; or paused at one of the courageous settlements which struggled for a foothold between river and forest. Davy had unforgettablo glimpses of the doughty pioneers who were steadily crowding the frontier ♦^ward the Pacific, and fre quently, along the uplands, he saw saw bands of Omahas fol lowing great herds of bufalo, or riding their ponies, grim sil houe^s upon the horizon. Cap tain Terry told him tales of the old stearaboating days when In dians were a deadly menace. There had been steamboats on the Missouri since as far back as 1819, the Captain said, and for many years afterward the Indi ans fought desperately to close the river-road against the dread ed invasion of white men. “You see, Davy,” said Captain Terry, “they were smart enough to understand that their hunting grounds were in danger, and they did their best to drive the boats off the river. They sel dom attacked in the daytime, but raids at night were common, especially when the craft of those days had to tie up along the banks for fear of snags, or because the old-time pilots didn’t know enough about the channel changes in this crazy river to navigate in the dark. The Indians would ride along the bank, whooping like fiends and shooting clouds of arrows, fire arrows, usually. Their game was to burn the boats. They killed a lot of good men that way and burned more than one boat. “Then a fellow came along with an idea that seared ’em off. He kneew that Indians are a superstitious lot, believing in all sorts of devils, so he rigged up a special tipvil for ’em. He made a big serpent’s head, like a giant kite, out of lath and oil paper, and set this snake-devil up in the lookout, and a man posted up there to turn the wicks of the lamps up and down, so as to make the scary head sort of glare and disappear. It worked fine. It was too much for the reds. It never failed to send them to the right-about with whoops of fear. The re sult was that the Indians let up a whole lot on the night attack business and steamboating got to be a good bit safer.” Some days the whistle of the Oregon, the American- Fur company boat upon which the s Stevens expedition was travel ing blast a salute to a company craft swiftly heading down-river with a cargo of furs from far posts in the Missouri headwaters and Davy would hear cheery shouts echoing from boat to boat, as company men gave the good hail. lie would catch glimpses of the gay scarlets and saffrons of the shirts and head handkerchiefs of the incoming trappers, eager for the joys of St. Louis after months of toil and danger along the forested stream of the northwest. Almost every day they passed keelboats heavily loaded, rude, strongly built crafts, 60 to 70 feet long, tugged up stream by a cordelle, a heavy rope 300 feet or mroe in length, one end of which was attached to a mast, and the other hauled by two-score stalwart men marching along shore. When the wind was right, tlm labor of dragging these heavy boats up-stream was eased by sails. Often Davy sa\v them us ing poles and long oars in their laborious struggle against the raging river. An occasional mackinaw, w’ith four oarsmen, shot down-stream, piled high with pelts, and now and then lusty, brown-armed iFrench-iCanadian half-breeds flashed past the laboring steam boat with thrill cries. Davy had his first sight of the bull boats, the queer craft built from a frame of willow’ saplings covered with the hides of bull buffalos. These sights and sounds and the thrill of deer feeding in the bottomlands iu the early morn ing never grew’ stale. One day Bill Haddon pointed out a great lumbering, brown shape on the edge of the wooded Nebraska shore. “Bar,” said Haddon, laconi cally, and Davy’s heart skipped a beat. “No use shoot in’,’’ added the mule-driver. “Too fer off, and the boat wouldn’t stop, nohow.” Brandon had formed his plans during the weeks of the slow up river progres of the Oregon. He had earned his pay of a dollar a day and keep for himself and his boy, but he had had no easy task among the “Irish canaries,” the half-wild Missouri mules that had been so luridly des cribed by Haddon. These vici ous, kicking brutes had broken the legs of two men, and had bit ten several others. Always res tive, and sometimes driven frantic by the fierce storms of thunder and lightning, they had i to be watched day and night. But Big Dave had escaped with nothing worse than a bruise or two and had won the profane praise of the boss when the plunging, squealing herd was driven to panie. To the boss. | Jelks, he confided his intention to leave the expedition at Coun eil Bluffs and strike westward over the Oregon Trail to the Pacific. “Hate ter lose a good man. but 1 won’t stand in yer way, Brandon,” said Jelks. “Reckon you’ve done yer share. But it’s risky business fer a lone man and a boy to hit that trail. In juns are gettin’ jnore ’n more restless . There’s one of Jim Bridger’s men, tall feller, named Spence, aboard here, and he’ll know purty much what the lay of the land is.” Brandon had heard a hundred tales of Bridger, called the great est scout and plainsman that the West ever knew. He was eager to meet any one known as “Jim Bridger’s man.” Of all ntrep id pathfinders Bridger loomed the greatest, his deeds and his fame overtopping the exploits of even such paladins at Kit Car son, Jim Baker, California Joe, Jim Beckwith, Pop Corn and Jack o’ Clubs. 'Brand, shake hands with Silent Spence,” said Jelks, next day. “Maybe Silent, here, kin tell ye somethin’ about the hos tiles along the Platte, and be yant. Brandon’s bound fer the Oregon Trail, Silent, him and the boy—jest them.” Spence, six feet, straight as ax> Indian, and fully as copper brown; with black hair that swept his buckskin shoulders, eyes wide apart and of piercing black, a hawk’s nose and a good, straight mouth, gave Big Dave a hand of steel, and a “Howdy,” and went on calmly smoking his pipe. He was wordless for sev eral minutes, but Brandon waited patiently, understanding some thing of the nature of the man. When Spence spoke, he gave his words deliberately, retracing the trail of memory, as he went along: ~TfcTBE CONTINUED) Courts As Cockpits. From the Minneapolis Journal. After 47 years as a criminal law yer, Clarence Darrow, of Chicago, Is about to retire. He has been engaged in 1,500 court battles and has de fended no less than 60 persona charged with murder. Against 5f of these the death penalty was asked, but thanks largely to his skill as * pleader, 45 were acquitted, a few were committed to asylums for th« Insane and the rest received prison sentences. A notable, if not a proud record! Mr. Darrow has found that Juries generally assume that a man charged with crime is guilty. He attribute* much of his success to the fact thal he has been able to show Juries thal men charged with crime are human beings like themselves. With this In mind, Juries generally become charit able and lenient. Naturally, Mr. Darrow believes strongly in the jurj system, not because it is perfect, bul because It is the best safeguard yet developed for the rlg'hts of the In dividual. But after long service it Is Mr, Harrow's conviction that “courts are only cockpits for lawyers to fight In.' Trials are battles, where lawyer* muster what learning and wit thej have to win their cases, and not tc secure Justice or protect society. It 1* his opinion that there Is not a chanc* In the world for true justice, and that there will not be, until humai nature has evolved further from animal passions and mob-mlndedness . Mr. Darrow makes some construc tive suggestions. He believes Jurte* should determine merely whether th* accused did or did not do the thing with which he Is charged. If the Jurj finds he did It, then let those versed In the causes and ways of human be havior decide why he did It, and whaf should be done with him for his own sake and for the protection of society The chief gains, he believes, In court procedure, are the establish ment of juvenile courts, and the In creased effort to find out why people act as they do. Mr. Darrow quite neglects to credit punishment with any deterrent value He confuses the Issue by blaming heredity and environment. Able and learned jurists place great value upon Punishment as a deterrent to crime and hence as a protection to society. This crucial point has been lost sight . of In the pseudo-scientific maze . c altering about the crime problem today. Ca’ the Yowes to the Knowes. Ca’ the yowes to the knowes, Ca’ them where the heather grows, Ca’ them where the burnie rows. My bonnle dearie. As I gaed down the water side, There I met my shepherd lad; He row’d mo sweetly in his plaid. And he ca’d me his dearie. “Will ye gang down the water side. And see the waves sweetly glide Beneath the hazels spreading wide The moon it shines l'u' clearly.” “I was bred up at nae sic school, My shepherd lad, to play the fool. And a’ the day to sit In dool. And naebody to see me.” “Ye sail get gowns and rlbdoiw meet, Cauf-leather shoon upon your feet, And In my arms ye’se lie and sleep, And ye sail be my dearie.” “If ye’ll but stand to what ye've said, I'se gang wl' you, my shepherd lad. And ye may row me In your plaid, And I sail be your dearie.” “While waters wimple to the sea. While day blinks in the lift sae hie. Till clay-cauld death sail blin’ my e’e, Ye aye sail be my dearie!" —Inobel Pagan (1740-1821.) -'-- ""1,1 ‘k. .. ——'r Agricultural Experts Sought Data On Cats Because of Wire Blunder From Commerce and Finance We regret that w« cannot fulfill our promise in last week’s issue to review the government bulletin on the Use of Cats as Food for Horses. The copies printed have been withdrawn from circu lation. The few copies that have already passed into private hands have already reached a substantial market value for col lectors. The New York Evening World was the first to discover the mistake that has misled us and so many others and has ren dered a substantial congressional appropriation valueless. Whether there were vitamines in cats, something altogether probable in view of the traditional nine lives, the value of their proteins in a balanced ration, the relative cost of cate as compared with that of other food for horses, the estimates of the world’s production of cats—all these and the numerous other questions and discussions in the government’s bulletin-are now become but waste. It seems that the order for the investigation was sent by tele gram to an assistant just as he was starting on his vacation. It ordered his immediate return and spoiled his holiday. The tele gram handed him by the train conductor just east of Harper’s Ferry said: “Survey required use of cats as food for horses cover present conditions far as Rocky mountains brief summary far western states stop effect of tariff stop possible substitutes stop foreign de mand stop begin Monday employ requisite statisticians steno graphers economists clerks prepare estimate total cost stop appro priation twenty-five thousand may get more.” In the departments at Washington orders are orders. Sub ordinates have no choice. Theirs not to make reply; theirs not to reason why. The survey expert had never heard of cats being fed to horses, but the government has investigated funnier things than that. General Dawes’ system of co-ordination not being in full operation, the young statistician did not get in touch with his su perior officer for several weeks, during which time he worked faithfully on his bulletin. He studied the whole history of cats, from the Egyptian tombs down, and while he did not find that cats had ever been used as food foa* horses, he believed that there was really no reason why an essence of cat might not be prepared which should be nutritious and palatable, although horses are not naturally carnivorous animals. ine Duiietm was rmaiiy in type, the statisticians, stenograph ers, dietitians, historians and economists paid off and the appro priation duly accounted and receipted for. It is one of those copies, received unofficially in advance of public distribution, that led us to promise our readers an exposition of its contents, a prom ise which, in view of the government’s plainly expressed unwill ingness that the contents of the pamphlet should be used for quo tation after its official suppression, we must regretfully retract. It was only last week that the compiler of the bulletin got hold, and that merely by chance, of the original telegram and realized the frightful mistake that had been made. Someone had blun dered. There was only one letter wrong, but it spoilt the whole work. The word in the telegram as written was uot “cats,” but “oats.” The typewriter keys had not been cleaned for some time and the o’s and a’s were both so filled with ink that they looked just alike. Pungent Paragraphs Admiral Fiske says women are the real cause of war, but he doesn’t dare to say the way to end war is to abolish the cause of war.—Worcester Telegram. Chicago wants to become the air capital of the land. That town al ways was known as the Windy City. —Pittsburg Chronicle and Telegraph. No one can have the true reform temperament who does not regard 4.4 per cent, beer as rum, or at least liquor.—Columbus Ohio State Jour nal. When, If ever, does a standing army in the Riff country sit down?— Detroit News. The life of a dollar bill is eight months, but it’s not all spent in one place.—Lynchburg News. The sweeping reform needed In the home is one that will get the cob webs out from under the furniture.— Flint Journal. Mischa Elman, the noted violinist, took out a $500,000 insurance policy before his marriage. Matrimony is getting to be a dangerous adventure. —Columbus Dispatch. Being poor is no disgrace, but soon becomes very monotonous.—San dusky Register. Not Inspiring Prospect. From the Milwaukee Journal. That Chairman Butler of the re publican national committee Is com ing to Wisconsin to open a fight for the party is interesting. What will Mr. Butler offer to those in Wiscon-' sin whom he wants to draw back to the republican fold? What his idea of the republican party is he told re publicans in Philadelphia the other night: “We must give to the people a party worthy of the presi dent.” “A party worthy of the president!” This the ideal for the great republi can party! The party that saved tihe union and freed the slaves! It is to he measured out to ljiake it worthy of one man—President Coolidge. I That will be a queer sounding mes sage for Mr. Butler to bring to Wis consin v'here the feeling for Mr. Coolidge last fall was 142,000 votes behind the feeling against him. It makes one wonder why Mr. Butler should thin* it worth his while to come to this state. "A party worthy of the president” will have a strange sound out hero where people have learned what the tariff scheme really is. For Mr. Coolidge is the president under whom the "elastic clause” Is being tested, and it is only too plain now what that "elasticity” means. The rubber can be stretched to make better profits, but it w-on’t contract to reduce the cost of living. It was Mr. Coolidge who held up the report of the tariff commission that recom mended cheaper sugar for the home. It is Mr. Cooldtge who finds a place as minister to Roumania for the leader of those on the commission who remembered that duties could be lowered as well as raised. There is no hope of ending tariff abuse in a party worthy of the president. Twenty five religions denominations are represented among the students at the Pennsylvania State college. Of more than 3,(DO students who stated their religious preferences recently, about one-fourth were Presbyterian, one fiith Methodists, one-eighth Lutherans, and one-tenth Roman Catholics. Other Beets represented are: Reformed, Prot- - estant Episcopal, Baptist, Hebrew, Evangelical, United Presbyterian, Unit ed Brethern, Society of Friends, Church of Christ, Congregational, Dunkard, Christian Science, Moravian. Unitarian, Mennonlte, Universalist. Greek Cath olic. Disciple, Schwenkfelder, and United Zion children, the last three having but one representative each. The wife of Caligula of ancient Rome owned pearls worth $2,000,000. The lata Herbert Quick seems to have been "capable do tout.” He was school teacher, lawyer, journalist, politician, prosecutor of handlers. mayor, organiz er of the federal farm bureau, Red Cioss executive in the far east, a sua sive and delightful speaker, a country gentleman. These were among, his avo cations. "I am like a setter pup,” ha said, "forever smelling out something new.” Clay, active, variously success ion he maintained that infantile paraly sis, which he had as a child, left its victims superior as a rule, to their fel lows. As a boy he wanted to be a war correspondent and to go to West Point for military training and the modern languages. His life-long infirmity, about which he never whined or sighed, pre vented. He thanked humorously the disease that perhaps had kept him from being, a professional ballplayer or a pu gilist. His was a brave, buoyant, cheer ful spirit, a steady will, keen interest in many things. The compensating gods g'ave him in addition the high gift of imagination. He didn’t find his vocation till late. He was 41 when, his first book W'as published; more than CO when "Vander inark’s Folly,” followed the next year bv "The Hawkeye,” made his fame. In these hj puts flesh upon the dry bones of documents and archives. Ha re-creates the history of the trek, the settlement, "the early neolithic,” age or Iowa. These books are crowded with life, character, incident, with whole processions of salient minor figures. They are rich in natural humor. They smack of the soil and the crops. Their homely fidelity and their breadth of poetry, their recovery of the atmos phere and attitude of two generations, their etchings of land and people, of cottonwood and willow and the tumble weeds, "hurrying gray shapes” driven out of the dusk by the October north west wind—what a wealth of matter, with sufiicient art, the memory calls up! And philologers have reason to be grateful to Mr. Quick for the treasures of forgotten word and speech that lie dug up between "the raging Canawl” and Hell Slew. wruic» compiam tnat some oi ms major figures are "romantic.” Well, Americans persist in being "romantic.” Indeed, the “romantic” seems a much better “stayer” than the exotlc-neurotic erotic. Bet the Devil's Advocate pre tend, if he likes, that Mr. Quick kept Mothers' day too often and that Captain Cowdy Is a bit "touched up.” But what a triumph Cow Vandermark is, with his slow unfolding, his shambling style, bis everlasting depressions, episodes, ob scure allusions. So not only "Dutch" formers but all countrymen of the old school uttered themselves. An ancient Yankee would say of such a roaming narrator, "he needs a four-acre lot to turn around in." Mr. Quick was sym pathetic to Americans of whatever strain; and he never borrowed his bucolics from literature, French, Russian or Scandinavian. His two chief books are not the per fume and suppllance of an evening. They nre spacious chronicles of life, full, deliberate, de-Morg.ane.sque. Take your time and your pleasure. It may he true, since our "realist" old friend, the Gazetteer, says so, that Ulster county "Is bounded on the east by the Hudson river. Is Intersected by Wallklll and Roundout rivers, and is also drained by the Neverslnk and Shawangunk rivers and Esopus creek.” We know it only a3 the birthplace of Jacobus Teunts Vandermark, steerer of the four cows. Iowa has BrookhatV and many virtues and too many bootleggers. If we shut our eves we s^e only Centropo’is, and In its St. Troplas hotel—as the French Csnadian painter transliterx, ted—our not fanatically honest acquaintance. Raw-, Upright, massacring with incred ible violence the chicken potpie. ! A 23-Inch refracting telescope Is to bs Installed at Johannesburg, South Africa, by Yale university, according to a re port'rom Consul G. K. Donald to the secretary of state. Yale’s decision on the location of the telescope was large ly due to the American Chamber of Commerce at Johannesburg. At Its request, the minister of railways grant ed a 15 per cent, reduction In freight port from Consul G. K. Donald to the of customs and excise has promised to request from parliament free entry for tbo telescope and accessories, and the director of the union observatory at Johannesburg, besides affording the fa cilities of astronomical time service, dark rooms, etc., has promised a free site in Its 15-acre reservation