THE QMAIIA DAILY BEE: SUNDAY, OCTOBER 1, 1905.
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Miysteries of Ak-Sar-Ben's Initiation Described by a Tenderfool
I'LL, ten yen; i ts neen nam me range ior 10, mese many
years, but thla ia the first time I was ever bunched on this
roundup. Yep, I know the country from the Rio Grande to
the Little MIsboo, and I've night-herded from the Cimmaron to
the Belle Fourche, but I don't know that I was ever so near beln'
plum locoed In all my dovastatln' career aa a cow puncher. Say,
the old trail to Abilene was a peach, and the way to Dodge wasn't
alow, even In them days, when there was a little sornethln' doln'
nearly all the time, but I'll pass. Thla here trail runs away from
'em all like a yearlln' steer from a lame pinto. Nothln' to it I can
read Injun signs, and critter signs, and I know every braiid ttjat
roam 8 the range, but this sure beats 'em all. It's an ace and the
deck hain't been shuffled. The mark's one of the purtlest I ever saw,
and I'm glad It's on me; I leastways I will be when it quits sraartln'
and that won't be long now.
"You, know, range rldln' ain't what It used to be, and I quit
quite a spell back. I've got a little bunch of steers of my own, and
they sure look good to me; 'specially when I think back on the times
I used to be wearln' my sweet young life away, chasm' another man's
hoofs and horns through the alkali and sand for forty per and
blowin' It all as fast I got It, and sometimes faster. These critters'
of mine are all doln' right well, an' I'm down here to make a deal
with the Meat trust to swap me some of its cash for some of my
cattle, which won't never look finer than right now.
Rounding Up the Bunch
"I've heard tell a heap of this Ak-Sar-Ben party, and always
had a sneakln' idea I'd like to sit in some night when he was dealin'.
Well, this bunch down at South Omaha--you know they're our
friends when we ain't doln' business, and then they ain't so ba4 as
tome I've seen they said to me: 'Bill, you're wastin' your time.
You ain't half livln' and you never will know what Joy there is in
life till you've gone against this Ak-Sar-Ben proposition. Now, you
get in line tonight, and we'll push you into the herd, and you'I see
Rome of the fanciest work you ever looked at in a branding pen or a
horse corral.'
"One of them says, .'Oh, Bill ain't game. He's all right if he
knows the trail, but he wouldn't tackle that ride over the mountains
for a hundred head of 2-year-olds.' Say, I didn't like that; now I
never went around larlatln' of grizzlies, nor nothln' like that, for I
was taught to tend to my own business, and I'll admit I always had
Just about all I could do doln' that and nothln' else. And I didn't
have bo cussed much business, nuther. I told 'em I'd do anything
once, and it was fixed up. Our roundup was to meet down here at
one of the hotels, and we'd work the country up over the hills and
along the divide till we joined up with the main party.
"They call that place out there the Den. It sure is. Well, we gets
out to this den place, and there we're messed up with as, likely a
lookln' bunch of fellowmen as I care to mix with. My frleads puts
me in right with the lot, an' says, 'Now, Bill, you're at home; Just do
as you please the rest of the evenin'.' Did I? Well, say, you copper
'.hat propositlonn' you'll win on the turn. Did I? I was juBt get
tin' read to cash in, for the game seemed dead, an' I didn't see no
, more king than a rabbit. It was talk, talk, talk, an' laugh, and
shake hands, an' askabout the crops, an' tell how good business was,
an' light a fresh one, until I says to myself, 'Bill, they've put you up
against a cold deck for fair. This here Ak-Sar-Ben business Is a
dehorned stag on a snow bank, an' you pull your freight.' I was
tryin' to cut myself out of the bunch, when bang! goes a tlx-plstol
right behind me.
Tenderfoots Line Up.
"You Bee, I'm not heeled, so down I goes on the floor, flop. I
expected to hear what my young ears had heard oncet or twlcet down
in the Panhandle, but there wasn't nothln' doln'. Bang! she goes
again, an I hears a feller say, 'Here, you tenderfoots, line up.' I
gets up an' there's a feller looks like a big puncher I used to know
down on the Canadian, name of Hughey Adair. Only Hughey didn't
have no such a mustache. I used know a feller in a dance hall at
Dodge that had a mustache like that, an' a soldier licked liim an'
the punchers run him out of town. That was the night after Hughey
Adair got shot in the leg at a dance hall. Wasn't meant for Hughey,
but he got 'it Just the same, an' he was lay In' upstairs when the boys
chased this herder out of the camp because he was a bluff. My
friends push me into the line, which was headln' for a chute, and
says, 'Now, Bill, remember your raisin', an' don't take no bad money.'
'The hell 1 won't,' says I to myself. Out our way we'll take any
thin' that looks like money. Into the chute I ducks with the bunch,
an' we're swlngln' along through the darkest d d tunnel you ever
stuck your face into. Just like beln' out on the range on a rainy
night, only you ain't got no chance to lose the trail, for the side
walls will hold you goln' right. Just about the time I was wonderin'
what was comln' we popped out right in front of the neatest little
home ranch house I ever saw. The range was strange to me, an' I
couldn't place the brand. It was sure all right, though, with good
buildln's and a fine corral,' an' feed in plenty, an' the sweetest little
creek for water. An' all the ranch hands was there, all but the
foreman.
Recollections of the Range.
"Well, this Alkali Ike party he was doln' a heap of talkln' and
was cuttin' loose' with that cannon of his like a crazy man. I'm
sure he's locoed, an' there's another of the bunch who's nearly as
bad. He'a framed up to look like Bill Cody, but I'll bet a blue chip
against a splitter he wouldn't face Bill Cody in that rig for a yearlln'
steer. He ain't got no gun, but another of the bunch has, an' he
keeps bangln' away just like the Alkali Ike party. I'm wonderin'
what it's all about, and the rest of the herd Is millln' an' frettin', an'
I thinks, 'Here's where the stampede starts,' when in comes the
foreman of the ranch. He's a nice lookln' young feller. Made me
think of Jake Fritz, who used to ride for the Swan outfit out here
on- the South Platte back In '82. He knowed his business, too, for
he didn't waste a word, and those noisy boys of his simmered down
. like a summer day when he showed up. Seems like he was due to
end a whole bunch of us over the divide to a better range, where
we could see a bit of God's outdoors, and get a chance at a little
sport. It was was on the way to the king's home ranch, but it
seems thero'd been some sort of trouble with a bunch of Injuns, who
had daubed black mud on their ears, and were caperin' about' along
the trail with nothln' on but a gee-string an' a smear of red paint.
These parties had been makln' things mighty unpleasant for all
hands, but it was up to us to get through to the king's ranch, an'
we had to hit the trail right smart sudden, too.
"The foreman cuts the bunch in two, and Fays to a couple of his
good men; 'Here, you take this outfit over the high line, an' if you
don't get throughP we'll write to your folks.' He starts the balance
of us out along the lower trail, with a couple of right smart lookln'
boys to go with us. None of us were mounted, for the ponies
couldn't do business the way we had to climb. Alkali Ike an Bill
Cody and the pal with the sawed off six-shooter are left at the home
ranch, I'm happy to state, for I never did like to mingle with a man
who's always wastin shells an' never hittin' nothln'. Those fellers
would make a lots better" fight with a knife an' fork than they
would with guns.
Heap Big Injuns Swoop Down
"I'm with this bunch sneakln' along the lower trail, where we
finds Injun tjgns In plenty, but no Injuns. Say, but that was a rough
way to go.. It's slip and crawl, and slide back, an' start again, an'
made me think of one time when I followed a bunch of cattle up
Into the Teton country. One place In the road the trail's gone com
plete, an' you don't get no chance to Jump nor nothln'. You Just
bump Into it, an' down you go. Well, Just after we gets by this bad
place, and seems to be runnln' on velvet, here comes the ugliest
bunch of Injuns that ever yelped.
"We're caight right, and there's nothin' to do but stand an'
make a parley. Now, I know Injun from the Comanche to the
. Blackfoot, and from the Jlcarilla Apache to the Uncapapa Sioux, but
I never see no Injuns like this before. They must be Tipperary In
juns. Anyhow, the big chief with his war bonnet on comes galloping
up, swlngln' his hatchet, and hollerin' out: 'Huh, O'im a hape big
Injun. Hoop. Me ate whoite mon's glzard. Hoop.' An' then
theyrope an' hog tie a little party with a funny bunch of alfalfa on
hla face, an' tie him up to a pine stump. This old Injun with a far
down voice gets busy, tellin' what he's goin' to do, and sayin' 'Hoop'
every little bit, an' the rest of the bunch is flourlshln' their guns
right handy, an' I'm beginnin' to wish I was out of there. Our party
is none too easy, not knowln' what's comin', an' beln' none too sure
of what'a done, when here comes the cutest little squaw that ever
jumped. Say, she frolics like a calf in the sun on a warm May
day, an' almost makes me forget what's doln'. When she sees what
old Chief One-Lungls up to, she heads straight for him, and then she
puts up the sweetest line of talk you ever -listened to, all in good
echt Yiddish.
That Little Yiddish Squaw
" 'Say, ratter,' she bleats, 'you vouldn't do it yet, alretty. Dla
schatschen hast machs nicht, und I haf me no huspand got yet. I
dakes me dis von, aln'd it?'
"This kind o' staggers the red party with the war bonnet and
the meat axe, but he gets back at her. 'Havers,' he says. 'Hoot
awa' wi' ye. Ye'll be aye spelrln' for a mon, when ye ken fine we
hae no meat in the house. Gang yer .ways.'-
"But the little one was game, all right, and she wouldn't be
stampeded by the old man's bluff. She simply flung her arms around
the little party's neck he was tied to the stump,- you know, and
couldn't get away from it and says: 'Ach, du lleber, du blst so
choener,' an' she gives him a kiss square on his forehead. She
couldn't find his face for his whiskers, but that didn't worry htm.
The old party laid down right there and let the pot go.
" 'Tike th' 'ole bloomin' bunch,' he says. 'It's a bally mess
we're in since wlmmen 'ave their rights.' An' she cuts the hobbles
an' lets the little party down. This lets us out with the Injuns, and
we agrees to see the red men later on. The big chief tolls us that
the trail Is broke so badly we can't go ahead as we're p'lntln", so we
doubles back to the home ranch, and takes the high lino over the
range to the king's roundup. It Isn't a bad trail, as trails go, but
we gets Into a right smart storm near the apex, with some hall In
the rain, and a bit of wind, and there's a bridge where the rail
seems to have been struck by llghtnin' or soinethln' of the kind,
with a bad piece of track right at the far end of It. This worried
some of the bunch, but we got over all right, and overhauls the
bunch that had gone that way first. We're. all p'intin' out for the
king's home ranch, when here comes the stage, with a load of ten
derfeet, and that Alkali Ike outfit's rldln' guard. You bet It wasn't
no treasure coach, or they'd had to send somebody along to guard
the guards. It's a funny stage, too, for it's pulled by a span of
burros for leaders, and a span of tyie biggest Rocky Mountain goats
I ever see for wheelers, and d d me if them goats didn't buck worse
than any cayuse I ever saw cinched, and there was a pair of the
tenderfeet rldln' them. I was glad we struck the Injuns when I
saw that outfit. .
In On the Final Branding
"Well, we fetched up at the king's all right, and the old boy
was mighty glad to see us. He asked us to come right in and stop
a spell, but an! old party, who seemed to be captain of the night gang,
wouldn't have it. He made us a nice talk, though, and told us how
glad he was, an' It seemed all right to me till I saw that queer Injun,
old Chief Afrald-of-Hls-Daughter, curled up on the carpet in front
of the lookout chair, just as if he had Bomethin' to say about the
game. I was about to call for a showdown on the hand, when up
comes a smooth talking party, an' he hands us out a nice talk about
how glad the king was that we'd come that far to see him, and how
'nervy we were to make the trip we did, an' told us that if we'd just
do as he said, we'd never regret it, an' the king would never forget
it, and that we'd all be happy yet, and then he cut out the talk, an'
everybody got busy about the place.
"We were branded all right, and turned into the home herd,
and in about as quick as a steer can switch his tall we were lopln'
around the pasture lot like we'd been there all our lives.
"Glad I went outT Why, I wouldn't have missed it for a 2-year-old,
an' you bet my winter out on Dry creek won't be half as long
as it would if I hadn't heard that Injun chief say 'Hoop.' Ak-Sar-Ben
is more than they told me, an' I'll be back here next summer
for the June roundup, Instead of waltin' for the fall."
And the old man answered the porter's call and started for
the train that was to take him back to his ranch, smiling to himself
as he lived over again that night at the den, and thought of the
good fellows he met out there and the good they had done him and
are doing for everyone who goes there.
ONE GRADE FOR ALL.
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