Chapter III: Part 3

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.

OUR NEW HOME

First, and next to the raising of sheep, the most important matter to me was the building of the house. This we did, working at odd times when not engaged in planting, and seeing to it that never an hour was wasted, either by ourselves or by the negroes. When the work was finished, truly we had a building of which to be proud, for this new home seemed quite as fine as the one we had left in Bolivar County.

It was built throughout of sawed lumber; the roof was made of a double thickness of boards, and the crevices on the sides of the house covered with the first strips taken from the trunks of the trees, with the bark still remaining; but this did not, in my eyes, detract from the general appearance of the whole.

Perhaps it was because I had labored so hard and so long on this home of ours, that it appeared so beautiful in my sight. At all events, it was most convenient, as even mother admitted. We had one room on the front, overlooking the river, and back of that a storeroom and a kitchen, which, if not exactly fit for a king, served our purposes very well.

In the loft, which of course was directly under the roof, we had our beds, mother, father, and I. Just behind the building, or, I should say, on the other side of the pecan motte, was a small hut built of round logs for the two negroes. We had sent back on foot those men whom father hired to drive the teams; therefore when our house was finished and the season at an end, only John and Zeba remained to aid in the labor of the ranch.

PLANTING, AND BUILDING CORRALS

We had planted no less than three acres of corn and potatoes, all of which promised a bountiful harvest, and gave token of yielding two or three times as much as we could have hoped for on the richest of the Mississippi bottoms.

In addition to the dwellings, we had built a large pen for the sheep, made of mesquite bushes stuck so firmly into the ground that the coyotes would not dare attempt to force a passage through.

We also had smaller pens for the sheep with lambs, perhaps a dozen or more of them; for, as you know, the mother sheep very often will not take kindly to her young, and it is necessary either to tie her up, or put her in some small inclosure with the little fellow, during two or three days, until she becomes acquainted with him and is willing to admit that he belongs to her.

During the season the last work done by the negroes was the splitting of rails. With these and with the wagons, we made a corral for the mules, where they could be inclosed at night, or whenever there was promise of a norther which might stampede them. For those fierce storms came, as it seemed to me, very often.

BAR-O RANCH

As for the oxen and cows, they were still allowed to roam over the prairie. We could not well provide them with a corral, because cattle often feed at night, and must have plenty of room in which to roam; but we took good care that they were branded, father using as his mark a big letter O with a line drawn across the middle.

Because of this brand I decided we would call our new home the Bar-O Ranch, and to-day I venture to say it is as well known in the state of Texas as any other, even though we may not number our cattle by the thousands, as do the more wealthy cattle raisers.

During all that season we had but two visitors, and how they chanced to stray down our way so far off the trail I was curious to learn. They were Mexicans, each driving a cart of home manufacture, which was the oddest contrivance I had ever seen.

AN ODD CART

The wheels are about seven feet high, made of three pieces of plank perhaps three inches thick, the middle one being the widest, and the two outsides quite narrow, the whole being rounded into the shape of a wheel.

The axle on which it is hung, for the carts are built somewhat after the fashion of a gig, is nothing more than a straight stick of timber with the ends rounded off to fit into holes cut through the center of the wheels.

On this axle, fastened to it by wooden pins and strips of rawhide, is the body of the cart, formed of timbers no less than three or four inches square. The tongue, to which the oxen are yoked, is only a straight piece of heavy hickory bound to the axle with thongs and pins in the most awkward manner possible.

Take it all in all, it is as heavy, as ill-contrived, and as odd a vehicle as one can imagine. Because of its exceeding great weight, the Mexicans cannot carry very heavy loads, and, because there are no hubs to the wheels and because the owners of the carts use little or no grease, it is possible at times to hear the creaking of the huge wheels a mile or more away.

If a Mexican cart is an ill-looking contrivance, then surely the yoke for the oxen fully matches it, for it is nothing more than a piece of timber, the edges rounded somewhat so they may not chafe the animals' necks, laid directly behind the horns, and lashed there firmly with thongs of rawhide. It is made fast to the tongue of the cart in the same awkward manner. It must cause the beasts much discomfort, and certainly the strongest oxen are unable to pull half as much of a load as when a yoke with a smooth bow is properly adjusted around the necks.

THE VISITORS

These Mexicans, who were driving two oxen to each cart, claimed to be going to Fort Towson after certain goods which were to be left there for them; but I doubted the statements made, as did father, for they had their unwieldy vehicles partly filled with packages five or six feet long, wrapped in what looked like tow cloth, and we afterward learned that these were probably muskets being sent to the northern border to be sold to the Indians.

These strangers were decked out in most fanciful costumes, with scarf-like blankets of gaudy colors thrown over their shoulders, simply by way of ornament. They could speak only a few words of English, making their wants known mostly by gestures.

They asked if they might make camp near our house. Such a request was not to be refused, for they might have done as they pleased. Father would not have had the heart to drive them away, for the prairie, even though staked out as a homestead, is free to all travelers.

ZEBA'S CURIOSITY

That evening Zeba's curiosity, like my own, was aroused by the sight of those bundles in the carts, which seemed heavy, as could be told when the Mexicans unyoked the oxen. He therefore loitered around trying to find an opportunity of learning what was inside the wrappings of tow; but before he succeeded in getting his hands on one of the packages, the Mexican drove him away with threats that I fancy would have been blood-curdling had we understood the Spanish language.

Their behavior toward Zeba, who thus far had done no more than stand idly by the side of one of the carts looking in, as a negro will when his curiosity is aroused, caused father to suspect that there was something wrong with the men, and that their approaching Fort Towson by way of the West Fork of the Trinity was not an accident, but rather done by design, that they might avoid the beaten lines of travel.

Therefore during the night that they remained in camp near us, both he and I stood guard, for while we had not heard very much concerning the troubles with Mexicans and Indians which the settlers on the western border were having, we knew the people of Mexico had no good will toward us who came from the States; although why that should have been the case I have never succeeded in learning.

POSSIBLE TREACHERY

On thinking it over, there appears to be good reason why the natives should be the enemies of those who have settled in Texas, for this republic was forcibly taken from the Mexican government at the cost of much bloodshed, and it would be strange indeed if they looked upon us in a friendly manner after that.

Even if they had not had so much territory taken from them, the Mexicans surely had good reason for unfriendliness when they remembered the battle of San Jacinto, to say nothing of the other engagements which gave independence to the republic of Texas.

Father has always held that when the Comanche Indians overran Texas in 1840, they were urged on by the Mexicans, who hoped to get back their territory, and perhaps believed that the savages would work such ruin to the republic as to make it easily conquered.

SUSPICIOUS BEHAVIOR

Under pretense of guarding against the coyotes, and preventing the cattle from straying, father and I moved here and there in the vicinity of the house during the entire night, and I took note that one or the other of those teamsters was on the alert whenever we came near them, which fact caused father's suspicions to increase rather than diminish, and we were thankful indeed when, at an early hour next morning, they took their departure.

Five or six weeks later, however, when we had fairly good proof that they were carrying muskets and, perhaps, ammunition to the Indians in order that an attack might be made on us settlers, father regretted that he had not demanded to know what the fellows had in their carts.

When I asked him what he would have done if he had discovered that they were carrying weapons, he said most emphatically that, knowing the Indians on the border were in a state of unrest, he would have taken it upon himself to stop the fellows at the point of the rifle, and would have sent me to Fort Towson, even though I might have been forced to go alone, in order to learn what disposition should be made of them.

Mother said that it was fortunate for us that we had not done any such wild thing, for if the fellows had resisted our attempts to search their carts, and resorted to weapons, then we might have come out second best, for no dependence could be put in John and Zeba in event of a downright fight, for they were more cowardly than any other slaves I had ever seen.

GYP'S FIGHT WITH A COUGAR

Gyp and I thoroughly enjoyed ourselves hunting. He was not a dog trained for game, but he had so much good sound common sense that immediately after we had treed and killed our first wildcat, he entered into the sport as if he had been always accustomed to it.

Gyp was more like a comrade than like a brute. With the game as abundant as it then was on the West Fork of the Trinity, you can be assured that he and I, after the hardest of the work had been done, and when the sheep were not needing care, had some rare sport.

It was my ambition to kill what is called a Mexican lion, or cougar. I knew there were several prowling around, having seen their tracks; once I came in full view of one when he was making a dash for a sheep and a lamb which had strayed some distance from the flock.

Gyp and I hunted, day in and day out, without success, until one morning by accident we almost stumbled over one of the fellows. In a twinkling the cougar and the dog were fighting desperately, while I ran around and around them, fearing to shoot lest I should kill Gyp, but knowing it was necessary to do something without delay.

The two were rolling and leaping about, each with his teeth fastened upon the other, as you have seen two bulldogs fight, but for the life of me I could not get a fair chance to press the muzzle of my rifle against the brute's head.

Finding Gyp was getting the worst of the battle, and forgetting the danger, I whipped out the knife which always hung at my belt. Holding it between my teeth and taking advantage of the first opportunity, I seized that villainous cougar by the neck, and held him in such a grip that he was half choked and forced to loosen his hold upon the dog. This gave Gyp the opportunity he wanted to fasten upon the animal's throat.

IN A DANGEROUS POSITION

Gyp, however, was not sufficiently strong to win the battle unaided, and I had all I could do to retain my hold upon the beast's neck, not daring for a single instant to let go with one hand in order to use the knife. Consequently there I stood, clutching the back of the cougar, while Gyp snarled and tore at his throat without doing much execution.

It was just when I said to myself I could not retain my hold many seconds longer, and the beast might turn upon me, once my grip was slackened, that father came in sight. Then, as you can fancy, the battle was speedily ended. He picked up my rifle from the ground where I had dropped it, and holding the muzzle against the brute's ear, fired with such effect that on the instant the cougar ceased to struggle.

But it was not always necessary that some other should interfere when Gyp and I were waging war against the beasts that would have done injury to the flock. We killed so many coyotes before the season had come to an end that we ceased to think of it as any very great feat, and save for the fact that we always took the wolf's hide, made no more of slaying one than we did of knocking over a jack rabbit.

HUNTING WILD HOGS

Having killed a cougar and scores upon scores of wolves, it was my desire to come across a drove of peccaries, as the wild hogs of Texas and Mexico are called. One day, when Zeba told me he had seen a drove of fifteen or twenty near the river, I set off without delay, Gyp at my heels, intending to bring back one or more that we might have a store of salt pork for the winter. Little did I dream what kind of animals I was going against!

We set off early in the morning, Gyp and I, and it seemed as if I had traveled at least seven miles before I came upon any signs of the wild hogs.

When I knew that a large number were close at hand, I began stalking them as I would a herd of deer. If I had known a little more about those vicious animals, I would have understood that at any show of enmity on my part I would bring them down upon me.

In fact, this was what I really did, although unwittingly. I supposed that such game, like others, would take to their heels at the first report of the rifle, and all I might succeed in getting would be at the first shot. Therefore I stole up toward the herd with the greatest caution, spending no less than an hour crawling through the mesquite bushes toward where I heard the little fellows grunting and squealing as they rooted among the decaying leaves for food.

No hunter could have asked for a better shot than I had. With a single ball I killed one of the peccaries, and wounded two others in such a manner that I had no doubt but that I could quickly bring them down. I began to reload the rifle, ordering Gyp to remain at my heels so he might not unduly alarm the drove. Hardly had I poured in the powder and rammed it home, when like a whirlwind all that drove of hogs charged through the mesquite bushes, and in the instant I was fleeing for my life.

Now it may seem odd that a fellow nearly thirteen years old should run away from a drove of hogs: but let me tell you that these were no ordinary animals, as my experience taught me. They were about half the size of a full-grown hog with very sharp snouts, wicked-looking tusks protruding from either side of the mouth, and long, slim legs, which told that they were fitted for a race.

TREED BY PECCARIES

It is not to be supposed I gave particular heed to those characteristics while the peccaries were charging upon me, it was afterward, when I had an opportunity of seeing the dead animals at my leisure, that I noted their size and shape.

When they came at full speed toward me, with gnashing of teeth and grunts of anger, I said to myself that I would sooner be confronted by two cougars than by such a drove, and, realizing on the instant that there was little chance for me to escape by flight, I sought refuge in a small pecan tree which stood near at hand.

It was well I moved quickly, for the foremost of the drove thrust at me viciously with his tusks, tearing off the bottom of my moccasin as I climbed up the tree and strove to take my rifle with me.

In an instant the hair on Gyp's back stood straight up, and he braced himself as if for a battle. Now despite the fact that I had had no acquaintance with peccaries, I understood at a single glance that he would have little show against their tusks, and therefore I shouted for him to go home.

The last of the hogs were charging down upon us when I repeated the order, and it was fortunate indeed for Gyp that he had learned to obey instantly any command I gave, although it was plain to be seen that he did not do so willingly.

GYP'S OBEDIENCE

Despite my sharp words Gyp stood irresolute half a minute perhaps, and I thought he was about to spring upon the foe. I shouted yet more sternly, and the good dog wheeled about in a manner which told that he highly disapproved of my forcing him to turn his back upon an enemy, and trotted away.

The peccaries turned to follow him, whereupon I broke one of the stoutest branches within my reach and flung it among the drove as a challenge for them to turn their attention upon me and to give Gyp an opportunity to escape.

It seemed to me then that you need no more than a tone of defiance to provoke a row with peccaries, for when the branch hit the leader of the drove, he turned, with an angry grunt and snort, to face me. Following his example, the remainder of the drove saw me plainly as I leaned over in full view.

If, before we left Bolivar County, any one had told me I would flee for my life before a drove of hogs, and then allow myself to be held prisoner by them, I would have laughed heartily, and yet such was the case now.

The vicious little animals crowded against the trunk of the tree, leaping up as if hoping to get a hold upon me, and tearing off huge pieces of the bark in their efforts.

At first I was not inclined to believe the situation very serious, and said to myself that it was an opportunity to lay in as much fresh pork as we could use during the winter season. I therefore loaded my rifle leisurely and prepared to slaughter the entire drove.

MY CARELESSNESS

I fired two shots, bringing down a hog with each bullet. Then, through clumsiness or the difficulty of holding myself securely upon the small limb of the tree, the powder horn slipped from my fingers, and in an instant they had ground it to fragments.

It was useless to blame myself for such a blunder, and for the moment it did not seem to be very serious, since I expected that my enemies would soon go away after learning that it was impossible to get at me.

I had killed three outright, and wounded two so severely that they were lying on the ground; but of these the remainder of the drove appeared to take no notice whatsoever. Their only object was to get hold of me, and before ten minutes had passed I began to understand that I was not only regularly treed, but likely to remain a prisoner until they were forced to leave me in order to seek food.

They leaped, and grunted, and snarled, at the foot of the tree until, as time wore on, I became absolutely afraid that, growing exhausted, I might fall among them and be torn to pieces.

After a time I lost all desire to look at that ring of sharp tusks protruding from the red mouths which rose and swayed before me like some unearthly thing made up of many parts, and was actually grown so cowardly that I closed my eyes to shut out the sight.

VICIOUS LITTLE ANIMALS

Hour after hour passed, yet those vicious little brutes at the foot of the tree seemed as excited as when they first saw me, and I made up my mind that I was in for many hours of this odd imprisonment, because it was not reasonable to suppose the hogs would soon grow so hungry as to leave me free.

But for the fact that Gyp was a dog who obeyed my every command, and had the good sense to understand that something serious had happened, I might have come to the end of my days there among the mesquite bushes, murdered by the peccaries I had counted on for pork.

Fortunately father was about two miles down the river when he saw Gyp coming toward him apparently in great fright. At once he understood the situation to be extremely grave, else the dog would never have returned home without me. Seizing his rifle, for we on the banks of the Trinity took good care to go well armed even while working on the ranch, father ordered Gyp to lead the way to where he had left me.

Half an hour before sunset he came so near that it was possible to hear the angry grunting of the peccaries, and understood in a twinkling what had happened.

FATHER COMES TO THE RESCUE

His first care was to lift Gyp into a pecan twenty or thirty yards away from where I was roosting, and there the dog struggled to hold himself in the crotch of a limb while father clambered up beside him.

All this while the hogs which were holding me prisoner gave no heed to the noise made by father and Gyp, but continued their efforts to reach me by leaping up against the trunk of the tree until father opened fire, shouting to me as he sent a bullet among them:--

"Are you safe, lad? Have you been hurt?"

"I am all right; but I have dropped my powder horn."

Then father began firing as rapidly as the rifle could be reloaded. There were seventeen in the drove I came upon; three I had killed and two I had wounded, leaving twelve very much alive and very active.

Father killed nine before the survivors decided that the time had come for them to beat a retreat, and when the last of the three trotted off, grunting and gnashing his teeth, I literally dropped from my perch in the pecan, as limp as though I had been ill for some time.

So far as getting a supply of pork was concerned, to say nothing of the saving of my life, it was well father took a hand in the fight, for I, who knew nothing of the peculiarity of these wild hogs, would have allowed the meat to spoil.

There is a gland on the back, filled with a certain disagreeable substance which will make its way through all the meat of the wild hog unless it is removed within a short time after the killing. Father's first act, even before waiting to congratulate me upon my escape, or to ask how I had happened to fall into such a predicament, was to remove these glands, and not until this work had been performed did he give any attention to me.

We dressed the carcasses and hung up the meat on the branches of the trees to save it from being devoured by the wolves; after which, each of us carrying a peccary on his back, we set out for the long tramp home, I promising myself sorrowfully that never again would I go out hog hunting without taking due precautions against being worsted.

I shall spend no more time telling of the hunting which Gyp and I did, even though I am strongly tempted to do so; for we often had rare sport, both on the prairie and in the woods, in search of all kinds of game.

And there was game in great abundance, if we cared to go sufficiently far from home. One year after our arrival, however, there came to the banks of the Trinity four other families who staked out land and thus somewhat interfered with the freedom of our sport. It seemed to me, then, that the country was becoming too thickly settled, for I had to walk no more than five miles in order to reach the house of a man who had been our neighbor in Bolivar County.

THE INCREASE IN MY FLOCK

In the spring of 1844, one year after our coming into the republic, father decided to give me all his sheep as payment for the work I had performed on the ranch. By this time our flock of seventy-two had increased to a hundred and fourteen, and we had good reason to hope that it would be doubled in numbers before another season had passed.

I then turned all my attention to herding sheep, driving them far out over the prairie where the grass was richest. There, day after day, Gyp and I remained, with no other covering than the sky above us, save when we spent our idle time putting up a temporary shelter here or there where we might be shielded from the too strong rays of the sun, or from the blasts of the norther. All the while my flock throve famously.

It seemed to me fortunate, so far as my own enterprise was concerned, that the new settlers on the banks of the Trinity had not brought with them any sheep, for they did not expect to raise such animals, having heard that the western part of the state was better adapted for the purpose.

Therefore I had no fear that the scab would come among my flock, because we were not in that section where strange sheep were likely to be driven from one point to another, and just so that I kept away from where the cattle were grazing, I had the entire northern portion of Texas for my own range, with no person to interfere.

UNREST OF THE INDIANS

We had heard rumors of an uprising among the Indians when we came to Fort Towson, on our way from Bolivar County. Again, when the new settlers arrived, they told us that the Comanches were in a state of unrest. All this promised evil for us who were living so far from a town or fortification.

We had still further reason to believe that some trouble might be expected, when those two Mexicans stopped at our ranch with cartloads of what were unquestionably rifles. Yet we gave little heed to the news. It seemed to us that we were so far in the wilderness, beyond reach of either redskins or whites, that we would not be molested, whatever might take place, and all our efforts were bent toward improving the ranch and increasing our herds and flocks.

So far as I was concerned, I thought only of the sheep. I could not understand why the savages should come where we were, because we had nothing to tempt them save our live stock.

We prospered exceedingly as time wore on, and lived contentedly, hearing little or nothing from the outer world. It was as if we were in a country by ourselves, for during the two years we had been on the Trinity we had had no visitors, except the two Mexicans and those settlers of whom I have spoken.

TEXAS JOINS THE UNION

Before coming into Texas to live we had heard it said that the citizens of the republic were making efforts to be annexed to the United States; but father had given little heed to such talk, believing that the people of the States would hesitate lest difficulties with Mexico be brought about.

We knew nothing of what was going on outside our ranch, and were not counting on hearing important news. In the spring of 1845, while I was rejoicing over the wondrous increase in my flock, and father was priding himself upon the fact that his land was growing each day more and more valuable, two mounted men drove up just at night-fall and asked for food and shelter. As we had not had any visitors for nearly two years, you cannot imagine how eager we were to grant their request, and how earnestly we strove to make them welcome.

In so doing we were well repaid, for then we learned that the republic of Texas had ceased to exist. The visitors told us we were living in one of the states of the Union, for the act of annexation had been signed by President John Tyler on the first day of March in the year 1845, and a convention had been held later at Austin to ratify the resolution.

I had brought with me from Bolivar County a small American flag, but had not hoisted it because of being a citizen of the republic whose ensign contained but a single star.

Within five minutes after learning that Texas was really a part of the Union, I brought out the Stars and Stripes and fastened it to the topmost branches of the largest pecan tree in the motte. Then I saluted it with as many charges of powder as I could afford to spend, for you must know that on the Trinity at that time powder and ball were not only scarce but expensive.

My store of ammunition was nearly exhausted by such a celebration; but father promised that very soon we would drive some of the cattle and a few of the sheep to Dallas, and there sell them to get sufficient money to buy the supplies which we were needing.

These visitors of ours had come to spy out the land with an idea of making a settlement near our ranch, and while it was pleasant to look forward to having near neighbors, I was not pleased with the idea of being forced to take my flocks farther afield in order to find fresh pasturage, as must happen in case many people took up land in our vicinity.

For mother's sake, however, I was pleased, because she was filled with delight at the idea of having someone near with whom she could visit.

WAR WITH MEXICO

With the coming of strangers, and the building of new homes near us, we began to hear more of what was being done in the outer world, and when father and Zeba went down to Dallas to sell a few cattle and sheep, they brought back the surprising news that the United States was at war with Mexico.

We were told that the younger men of Texas were volunteering as soldiers, and that much blood might be shed.

By this time I was fifteen years old, and it seemed to me that it was my duty to leave home, and to abandon my plans of getting rich through sheep raising, in order to do what I could in defense of the state of which I claimed to be a citizen.

Father soon gave me to understand, however, that I was not yet old enough to take up arms. He insisted that duty called me to remain where I was, and that we were doing our duty by the state so long as we remained on the ranch raising live stock, for if war was continued any length of time, cattle and sheep would be required in order to supply the army with food.

I therefore gave up all thoughts of enlisting. Perhaps I was the more willing to do this because of the sorrow that I should feel if forced to leave my flock, which now numbered nearly five hundred. But whenever John or Zeba was at liberty to herd my flock, I frequently walked many miles in order to learn what was going on in the war.

SELLING WOOL

I was the one who brought to our ranch the news that the Mexicans had bombarded Fort Brown, May 4, 1846, when Major Brown was killed; also word from Dallas of the battle of Palo Alto. Then we heard from Monterey, and but for the fact that I had three years' shearing of wool to sell, I believe I might have enlisted despite all father could have said.

It was necessary, however, that I sell this wool at a time when the prices were high, and during the two months which followed the battle of Monterey I spent all my time freighting the fleeces from the ranch to Dallas, using one of the big wagons with eight mules, and taking Zeba with me as assistant.

When I had in my pocket the money which had been paid for the wool, it seemed as if I might really call myself a ranchman. I was so proud of my success that I almost lost sight of the fact that other young fellows, most likely some of them no older than I, were putting on the uniforms of enlisted men, and taking their places in the ranks to defend the state in which were their homes.

Once we heard that the Comanches were on the warpath, and there were times when it seemed certain we might be attacked at any moment. Then father put Bar-O Ranch in a state of defense. He brought from Dallas a good supply of weapons, and we fitted to the windows of our house heavy shutters in which were loopholes.

PEACE ON THE TRINITY

But the Lord was good to us settlers on the Trinity; for He permitted no blood-craving Indian to come our way. It seemed at times almost as if it was a crime for us to prosper so wondrously well, while in other parts of the state the settlers were struggling against the savages, or standing in battle array before the Mexicans. Indeed, I was very nearly ashamed because no harm came to us on the Trinity, because our worldly goods were increasing day by day, and because Bar-O Ranch was rapidly becoming one of the best in the state.

But for the fact that many others have told the story of how Texas won her independence, how she flourished or decayed as a free republic during ten years, and how she was finally annexed to the United States, I would be glad to tell more of these things to you. They could not fail to be entertaining as well as instructive, for they show how a people with a true purpose before them overcame the many obstacles which confronted them and finally made Texas what she is to-day, one of the brightest stars in the blue field of Old Glory.

MY DREAM FULFILLED

I may not have done all I might toward the settlement of this grand state, but the dream which was mine in Bolivar County has at last been fulfilled. The flock which numbered twelve when I left the old home has increased to more than five thousand, and my sale of wool each year amounts to as much as that of any other ranchman within two hundred miles of us. Furthermore, in addition to my sheep, I claim a full interest with father in Bar-O Ranch, which is in itself no mean property, and am duly thankful for all the good things of this life which have come to me.

Yet there is in my heart at this moment, and ever will be, a keen regret, that I entirely forgot one admonition from the Bible which has in these past years stood out so boldly in my mind. How much better is it to get wisdom than gold! And to get understanding is rather to be chosen than silver.

It is true there were no opportunities for me when we first settled on the banks of the Trinity, but if I had struggled half as hard to get wisdom as I have struggled to hold my flocks prosperous, then I could now look back with real pride upon what I have accomplished.

If I had done this, there would now be no happier person in this great state than Philip of Texas.

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BOOKS CONSULTED IN WRITING PHILIP OF TEXAS

BAKER, D. W. C.: A Texas Scrap Book. A. S. Barnes & Co.

BOLTON & BARKER: Makers of Texas. American Book Co.

BOND, OCTAVIA ZOLLICOFFER: Old Tales Retold. Smith & Lamar.

BRAMAN, D. E. E.: Information about Texas. J. B. Lippincott & Co.

BROWN, JOHN HENRY: History of Texas. Daniell, St. Louis.

DEWEES, W. B.: Letter from an Early Settler of Texas. Compiled by Cara Cardelle. Hull, 1854.

FOOT, HENRY STUART: Texas and the Texans. Thomas Cowperthwait & Co.

GARRISON, GEORGE P.: Texas. Houghton, Mifflin and Company.

LUBBOCK, FRANCIS RICHARD: Six Decades in Texas. Gammel Book Co.

MAILLARD, N. DORAN: The History of the Republic of Texas. Smith, Elder & Co.

SANTLEBEN, AUGUST: A Texas Pioneer. Neale Publishing Co.

SMITH, ASHBEL: Reminiscences of the Texas Republic. Historical Society of Galveston.

YOAKUM, HENDERSON: History of Texas. Redfield, New York.

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JAMES OTIS'S COLONIAL SERIES

Calvert of Maryland
Mary of Plymouth
Peter of New Amsterdam
Richard of Jamestown
Ruth of Boston
Stephen of Philadelphia

Price, each, 35 cents. For grades 3-5

Don't you remember the "Toby Tyler" stories, which appeared some years ago in "Harper's Young People"? And don't you remember how impatiently boys and girls looked forward to the next issue merely because of those tales? Stories like those mean something to children and make an impression.

¶ Here are six new stories by the same author, James Otis, the first he has ever written for schools. They are just as fascinating as his earlier ones. They are stories and yet they are histories. Their viewpoint is entirely original, the story of each settlement being told by one of the children living in the colony. For this reason only such incidents as a child might notice, or learn by hearsay, are introduced--but all such incidents are, as far as possible, historical facts and together they present a delightfully graphic and comprehensive description of the daily life of the early colonists.

¶ The style in which the children tell the stories reads as charmingly as that of a fairy tale, and abounds in quaint humor and in wholesome, old-fashioned philosophy.

¶ Each book is profusely illustrated with pen and ink drawings that not only add to its artistic attractiveness, but will be found a genuine aid to the child's imagination in reproducing for him realistic glimpses into a home-life of long ago.

¶ There is no better way for your pupils to learn about the beginning of our country. The books are just as well suited to libraries and home use. Write us about them.

AMERICAN BOOK COMPANY

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HISTORICAL READERS

By H. A. GUERBER

Story of the Thirteen Colonies $0.65
Story of the Great Republic .65
Story of the English .65
Story of Old France .65
Story of Modern France .65
Story of the Chosen People .60
Story of the Greeks .60
Story of the Romans .60

Although these popular books are intended primarily for supplementary reading, they will be found quite as valuable in adding life and interest to the formal study of history. Beginning with the fifth school year, they can be used with profit in any of the upper grammar grades.

¶ In these volumes the history of some of the world's peoples has taken the form of stories in which the principal events are centered about the lives of great men of all times. Throughout the attempt has been made to give in simple, forceful language an authentic account of famous deeds, and to present a stirring and lifelike picture of life and customs. Strictly military and political history have never been emphasized.

¶ No pains have been spared to interest boys and girls, to impart useful information, and to provide valuable lessons of patriotism, truthfulness, courage, patience, honesty, and industry, which will make them good men and women. Many incidents and anecdotes, not included in larger works, are interspersed among the stories, because they are so frequently used in art and literature that familiarity with them is indispensable. The illustrations are unusually good.

¶ The author's Myths of Greece and Rome, Myths of Northern Lands, and Legends of the Middle Ages, each, price $1.50, present a fascinating account of those wonderful legends and tales of mythology which should be known to everyone. Seventh and eighth year pupils will delight in them.

AMERICAN BOOK COMPANY

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JAMES OTIS'S PIONEER SERIES

=ANTOINE OF OREGON=: A STORY OF THE OREGON TRAIL.

=BENJAMIN OF OHIO=: A STORY OF THE SETTLEMENT OF MARIETTA.

=HANNAH OF KENTUCKY=: A STORY OF THE WILDERNESS ROAD.

=MARTHA OF CALIFORNIA=: A STORY OF THE CALIFORNIA TRAIL.

=PHILIP OF TEXAS=: A STORY OF SHEEP RAISING IN TEXAS.

=SETH OF COLORADO=: A STORY OF THE SETTLEMENT OF DENVER.

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