Philip of Texas

A JACK RABBIT

When I awoke the first rays of the sun were falling through the mesquite bushes fairly upon my face. A jack rabbit, his long ears flapping comically as he humped across the prairie, stopped when he was nearly opposite the motte of pecans to wonder who these people were, who had come to disturb him. This was the first object to meet my gaze, and however great might have been the sorrow in my heart, I could not have kept from laughing long and loud at the ridiculous creature.

I soon saw, however, that his clownish appearance was not to be counted strongly against him, for, startled by my rising quickly, he darted away with the fleetness of a deer. I question whether, if my rifle had been at that moment in my hands ready for use, I could have done more than take aim before he was out of sight among the bushes.

Then came a cheery good morning, as I interpreted it, from a chaparral cock, and I fancied it was the same fellow who had welcomed us to the valley. Following this friendly morning greeting came the screaming of a bird which I afterward knew was called a killdeer. I was wondrously cheered by the sight and sounds of life around.

REPAIRING DAMAGES

Then came the work of the day, the first for me being to build a fire, even though there was nothing to be cooked. It had been my duty at home in Bolivar County to perform this service, and unwittingly I did it then, not remembering the fact that all our provisions were at the bottom of that brown flood. Mother asked, as she came out from her poor shelter, why I thought it necessary to start a blaze. I looked dumbly back at the valley which we had left in such haste, and to my surprise saw the tops of the wagons just appearing above the surface of the water, so rapidly had the torrent subsided. Father said laughingly, as if it was a matter which amused him exceedingly: —

"We will wait for breakfast until we can get a side of bacon from one of the wagons, unless you, Philip, are inclined to dive beneath the water for one."

It was evident we were to have little to eat during that day if we depended upon rescuing anything eatable from the flood. So I suddenly determined that I would not be outdone by father in cheerfulness and proposed that John go with me in search of the cattle.

"I am thinking all of us must take a hand in that work," father said. Then turning to mother, he asked if she would be willing to remain there among the pecan trees alone while we roamed the prairie in search of the cattle.

It was a useless question, for my mother was a woman who always stood ready to do that which came to her hand, regardless of her own pleasure or inclination.

ROUNDING UP THE LIVE STOCK

We set off at once, hungry as we were, on what I thought would be a useless journey. I was prepared to tramp all day, if necessary, without getting sight of a single animal belonging to us, and yet, greatly to my surprise, an hour before noon we came upon the entire flock of sheep with never a one missing. They were feeding as peacefully as if they had been herded by a better shepherd than I ever claimed to be.

Gyp, who had kept close to my heels from the time the waters first came down upon us, now seemed to recover his spirits. For the first time since we had been forced to flee for our lives he gave vent to a series of joyful barks, running around and around the flock as if he had been ordered to do so.

Father proposed that Gyp and I return with the flock to where mother was waiting, while he and the negroes continued in search of the cattle and mules. Against this I was not inclined to make any protest, for it had worried me not a little because she was alone, although I failed to understand how any harm could come to her.

When the afternoon was about half spent, the negroes that father had hired as mule drivers came in with all our herd of oxen and cows. They reported that father, with John and Zeba, had kept on having seen the mules far away in the distance, and it was reasonable to suppose they would return to us before night had set in. This they did not do, however, and mother and I were troubled because of their absence, yet we could do nothing but sit there, idly watching the sheep and gazing down now and then into the valley to mark the ebb of the waters.

THE FIRST MEAL AFTER THE FLOOD

Half an hour before sunset, when the wagons stood out plainly in view, with the flood hardly more than up to their axles, I called upon the negroes to follow me, and we set out to look among our belongings for something to eat.

After searching about we came upon a side of bacon, which looked but little the worse for its long bath, save that it was coated in a most unpleasant fashion with mud. Thinking it impossible for us to find any other thing in condition for eating until after it had been well dried, we turned to the grove of pecans with our small prize.

I built a fire near where mother's shelter of branches and leaves had been set up. Then from the mesquite bushes I cut twigs which would serve as forks to hold the meat in front of the blaze. After this I carved the bacon with the knife from my belt, and mother broiled slice after slice, the savory odor causing me to realize how exceedingly hungry I was.

We ate heartily, almost greedily. When our hunger had been partly satisfied, we sat down to await the coming of father, speculating upon his prolonged absence, until we had imagined that all sorts of evil had befallen him.

WAITING FOR FATHER

He who crosses a bridge before he comes to it, or, in other words, the man or the lad who looks into the future for trouble, proves himself to be foolish, for all the worry of mind one may suffer will not change events by so much as a hair's breadth.

If mother and I had remained there talking of this thing or of that which had happened in Bolivar County, and not looking out across the prairie with the idea that harm had befallen father, then the evening might have been a pleasant one; but instead, we were almost distracted with fear, until about midnight, when the trampling of hoofs in the distance told us that the mules had been rounded up.

It seemed strange to me, when father and the negroes came into camp, bringing the mules with them, that in the stampede we had not lost a single animal. Every ox, cow, mule, and sheep that had been with us in the valley before the flood was now returned and herded in front of the pecan motte as peacefully as though nothing had occurred. But not far away we could hear the snarling, shrieking, and barking of the coyotes which served almost to make it seem as if that flood had been no more than a disagreeable dream.

That night the hired negroes and I stood watch. Father, John, and Zeba had traveled so far afoot, and were so weary that I could not have the heart to rouse them when it came time for our relief from duty, and so we paced around the herds and flock until daylight.

When the first rays of the sun glinted all the foliage around us with gold, it was possible for me to look down into the valley from which we had fled, and get some slight idea of the misfortune that had overtaken us.

Because of the weight of the wagons, and owing to the fact that they were heavily laden with farming tools and such things as would not float, they had hardly been disturbed. Also, owing, I suppose, in a great degree, to their being sunk so far in the mud after the first onrush of the torrent, they had not been knocked about to any extent.

RECOVERING OUR GOODS

As a matter of course everything, including the grass, was covered with mud; but the water, except here and there where it stood in small pools on the surface, had retreated to its proper place between the banks, and there was nothing to prevent us from caring for our goods.

Mother cooked all that was left of the bacon, after which, with hunger still gnawing at our stomachs, we went down to set our belongings to rights, and a wearisome day it was.

The harness of the mules had been swept downstream so far that we did not come upon any portion of it until the day was nearly done. Therefore, we could not make any effort toward dragging the wagons to the hard ground, but were forced to carry in our hands every article which it was necessary to spread out upon the clean grass to dry.

About nightfall, after having found enough harness for one team of mules, we succeeded in getting a single cart up to where mother's camp had been made. Then it began to look as if we had really taken possession of this portion of Texas, for all around were spread clothing, bedding, household furniture, farming tools, and this thing and that which went to make up the cargo we had brought from Bolivar County.

The wagon covers which had been spread over our cook camp had floated down the stream beyond the possibility of our finding them before another day. Therefore, that night, my mother slept once more in her shelter of branches and leaves; father and I made a bed for ourselves in the water-soaked wagon; and the negroes, or such of them as were not on duty guarding the cattle, lay down on the ground beneath it.

SETTING TO WORK IN GOOD EARNEST

From this on we had plenty with which to occupy our hands as well as our minds. There was ever the necessity of keeping the cattle rounded up, the sheep herded, and the mules from straying, and all this was the more difficult because they were now on the prairie instead of in the valley.

Father was determined that his first work in this new country should be the building of a house, and very shortly after the flood subsided, I understood what he meant, when he spoke of my taking a hand in getting out the lumber.

First, as a matter of course, we hauled the other wagons out of the valley, making a small corral with them near the pecan motte where we had decided to build a home. Then we hunted during a full day along the banks of the river for such of our belongings as had been carried away by the flood, and found everything of value before the search was ended.

Two of the negroes were told off to guard the flock and the herd, either father or I keeping a sharp eye on them meanwhile, lest they should neglect their duties. After the ground plan of our house was staked out, father blazed such of the trees as he decided must be felled in order to provide us with lumber.

The negroes were set at work cutting these down, while father made his preparations for that sawmill which amused me before it was finished, and caused my back and arms to ache sorely before it had fully served its purpose.

SAWING OUT LUMBER

Perhaps you may not be able to understand how we could convert the trunks of trees into lumber without a sawmill, nor did I at first; but, as I have said, I soon came to have a very clear and painful idea of how it might be done.

First a deep trench eight or ten feet long, and perhaps four feet wide, was dug in the prairie near where the trees had been felled. At either end of this trench, standing perhaps three feet above the surface, was a scaffolding of small timbers.

When the first tree was down and had been trimmed of its branches, all hands were called to raise it up on these two scaffolds, and there it lay, each end projecting four or five feet beyond the uprights.

Directly over this, at one end, was a small, movable platform, as I may call it, constructed of the trees which could not be used for building purposes, and of such a height that he who stood upon it would be no less than three feet above the log which lay upon the scaffolding.

When this was done, father brought out from our belongings a long saw, such as we of Bolivar County called a crosscut. It had long teeth which were set up at wide angles, so that it would make a broad cut without being in danger of binding between the sides of the log. This saw was perhaps six feet long, and provided with a handle at each end projecting out on both sides of the blade in such a manner that one could seize it with both his hands.

Then I began to have a very good idea of how timber might be produced without a mill, for father, directing me to stand in the pit while he took his station on the platform above, made the first cut with the saw. After it had fairly been started in the groove I was called upon to work at the lower end of it, alternately pushing and pulling, while father did the same. Thus the sharp teeth were forced through the wood, slowly to be sure, but none the less steadily, and as we cut board after board the log was pushed forward or pulled back on the scaffolding so that we might not cut into the scaffolds. You may well fancy that I was not much pleased at thus being forced to do my share in getting out material for the house.

LABORING IN THE SAW PIT

Sheep herding is none too pleasant a task; but as compared with this hand sawmill of ours it seemed like positive pleasure. I said to myself that I would never again complain of the hardships of herding a flock on no matter how large a range, because the memory of this method of working out lumber would always remain fresh in my mind.

I was not in the pit very many hours during the day. One of the negroes was called to take my place at intervals; but we could not well trust this work, rough and arduous though it was, to the black men because of their carelessness. Once, when we left two of them alone while father and I helped mother with the family washing at the bank of the creek, we found that the stupid fellows, instead of sawing the board the same thickness all the way along, had made it thin in one place and thick in another, until it was practically useless for building purposes.

WILD CATTLE

Before we had worked out by this slow process all the lumber that would be necessary for making our home, we were surprised to find that our herd of cattle had been increased by three handsome beasts, two cows and a bull, black as coals, with glistening, long, white horns.

They suddenly appeared among our herd, causing me, who first discovered them, the greatest possible surprise. It seemed almost like some work of magic that we should have gained these fellows without raising a hand. Thinking that they might be branded, as is the custom in Texas, I tried to come near enough to find out, but I soon understood that I might as well have tried to make close acquaintance with the shiest antelope that ever crossed the prairie.

These cattle were so wild that at the first sight of a man they would toss up their horns, bellow, and set off across the country with their tails raised high as a signal of danger, putting the very spirit of mischief into our cattle.

After making two or three vain attempts to come up with them, I realized that unless I would take the chances of stampeding our whole herd, I must leave them alone.

When I told father of the wonderful discovery that we had grown the richer by three cattle, he treated the matter very calmly and explained the seeming mystery by saying that we were not the only persons who had found additions to their live stock, for during his first visit to Texas he had heard much concerning such cattle.

During the years from 1834 to 1836, when the Mexican army was retreating, the Indians ravaged the country between the Nueces and the Rio Grande to such extent that the Mexicans, owners and herdsmen, abandoned their stock ranches, leaving behind them large herds of cattle which could not be carried away save at great risk, and these beasts had since then multiplied rapidly.

A DISAGREEABLE INTRUDER

The officers of the Texan army had been accustomed to send mounted men into the abandoned country, driving out the cattle for the use of the army and thus supplying the troops with meat at no other expense than that of searching for it, until there were no longer large herds to be seen. Now and then, however, as in our case, a ranchman would suddenly find three or four, or possibly a dozen, among his own herd.

Father was not much pleased at this addition to his stock, for those black fellows were so wild, having ranged the country as they willed during eight or ten years, that they played the mischief with the tame cattle, as I had already seen. At the slightest cause of alarm, they would set off in mad flight, and thus stampede the quietest herd that was ever rounded up.

"To-morrow we will shoot that bull," father said, "if it can be done without making too much trouble among our own cattle. Then perhaps the cows will quiet down a bit, and find it more agreeable to behave themselves than to run races across the prairie without cause."

Half an hour before daylight next morning father and I, with plenty of ammunition, set off alone to do our best at cutting the wild bull out from the herd, and ending his career with a rifle ball.

We left our camp, without waiting for breakfast, believing in our ignorance that the hunt would not be long; but very shortly after it began we understood that we had more of a task on our hands than had been anticipated.

To get within rifle shot of the herd seemed for a long time an impossibility. No sooner would we come in sight of the animals than up would go their tails and away across the prairie all the cattle would dash as if suddenly grown wild.

ODD HUNTING

Then it was necessary to creep up on them, stalking the huge creatures as carefully as we might have hunted deer; but so wild were they that the least incautious movement when we were creeping through the grass, wriggling along like snakes, would provoke a snort of terror, and away the whole herd would go again.

More than once I urged father to turn back, saying we might drive our own cattle entirely across the republic of Texas, and finally lose them, if we continued our efforts. I pointed out to him that already we were at least five or six miles from home and had not had our breakfast; but he replied grimly that if we would save our own stock, it was necessary to put an end to the career of that black bull, who seemed possessed by the spirit of mischief, or the tame cattle might grow so wild it would be impossible to herd them.

We made our way slowly at times, and again we ran swiftly if there was no danger of being seen by the beasts, for not less than fifteen miles, when we came to a pecan grove in which we hid ourselves, with the idea of resting from the exertion of the chase.

While we sat there concealed by the foliage, the very animal we were so eager to kill led the herd directly toward us. He kept on feeding leisurely twenty or thirty paces in advance of the others, and sniffing the air with each mouthful.

Fortunately for us the wind was blowing directly from him toward the pecan motte, and therefore he failed to scent any danger.

On he came, slowly at first, as handsome a beast as I ever saw. When he had ventured thus unsuspiciously within perhaps half a rifle shot, father whispered to me that I should take careful aim, either at the bull's neck or just behind the fore shoulder, and when he gave the signal, I was to fire.

It seemed to me that the two shots rang out at the same instant, for they sounded like one, and the black bull pitched forward on his knees as if struck by lightning. A second later he had rolled over dead, and the work was finished, save the walk of fifteen miles before it would be possible to satisfy our hunger.

A SUPPLY OF FRESH MEAT

We covered the carcass with the branches of the pecan trees as well as possible, in order to keep the wolves and the turkey buzzards away, for even though we had been here but a short time, I had learned that anything eatable left exposed on the prairie, particularly fresh meat, would soon be devoured by the noisy coyotes or those unwholesome-looking birds. Then we set out on our return to the home camp, leaving the cattle to recover from the fright caused by the report of our rifles as best they might.

When we arrived, at about three o'clock in the afternoon, father set one of the negroes to harnessing two mules to the small wagon, and announced that I was to go back with a couple of the men to bring in our game, for we could not well afford to lose so much fresh meat.

The day had been a long one before I found opportunity to crawl into my bed, for it was near midnight when we got back with the carcass of the bull.

When I opened my eyes next morning, I remembered the saw pit, believing I must spend another day at the slow task of making boards and joists from green wood, but father was at work cutting the carcass of the bull into thin strips, while John and Zeba were building a little scaffold on the prairie a short distance from mother's shelter.

"JERKING" BEEF

This was the first process towards "jerking" beef, or, in other words, drying it in the sun, a method of preserving meat which I fancy has come down to us from the Indians. Before the morning was spent I discovered that there are more disagreeable tasks than that of pushing a crosscut saw up and then pulling it down.

Before all the meat had been cut into thin ribbons and hung on the scaffolding, we were covered with blood, and on the topmost branches of the pecans sat a dozen or more of those miserable turkey buzzards, awaiting an opportunity to come down and eat what was left of the carcass. It was necessary to keep as close a watch over those birds as we did over the wolves, else all our labor would have been speedily devoured. When there was an opportunity for a much-needed bath, father allowed no more than two of us to go into the stream at a time, obliging the others to remain where they might stand guard over the meat.

When night came, the ribbons of flesh were not wholly cured and we found it necessary to gather them up and store them in one of the wagons lest the dew spoil the flesh; in the morning we hung all the thin strips out again, standing over them jealously.

It seemed to me just then as if all our days and nights in Texas were to be spent standing guard over something. During the night we were forced to watch lest the wolves devour our sheep, and during the day we had to keep a careful eye over the turkey buzzards who seemed on the verge of starvation all the time. In addition to this labor, it was necessary to perform the regular work on the ranch, and thus it may be seen that we did not have much time for idling.

SEARCHING FOR THE CATTLE AGAIN

The next day father sent out two of the negroes to search for our cattle, believing it would be useless for us to make any attempt at herding them until after they had had ample time to quiet down from the alarm caused by the chase and the killing of the bull.

The black men were absent from the camp twenty hours before coming back with all the herd, and to have heard these negroes complain, one might have thought that they had walked a full hundred miles. According to their story they traveled a long, long distance before coming upon the herd, and then they found it extremely difficult to drive the beasts in toward the Trinity River, because the two wild cows made every effort to stampede the herd whenever the negroes came in sight.

Perhaps I do not need to set down in detail all that we did during this first season on the Trinity, but I will tell what we accomplished.