Theodore Roosevelt: An Autobiography
sometimes leather shaps, although often they merely had their trousers
tucked into the tops of their high boots. There was a good deal of rough
horse-play, and, as with any other gathering of men or boys of high
animal spirits, the horse-play sometimes became very rough indeed; and
as the men usually carried revolvers, and as there were occasionally one
or two noted gun-fighters among them, there was now and then a shooting
affray. A man who was a coward or who shirked his work had a bad time,
of course; a man could not afford to let himself be bullied or treated
as a butt; and, on the other hand, if he was "looking for a fight," he
was certain to find it. But my own experience was that if a man did not
talk until his associates knew him well and liked him, and if he did
his work, he never had any difficulty in getting on. In my own round-up
district I speedily grew to be friends with most of the men. When I went
among strangers I always had to spend twenty-four hours in living
down the fact that I wore spectacles, remaining as long as I could
judiciously deaf to any side remarks about "four eyes," unless it became
evident that my being quiet was misconstrued and that it was better to
bring matters to a head at once.
If, for instance, I was sent off to represent the Little Missouri brands
on some neighboring round-up, such as the Yellowstone, I usually showed
that kind of diplomacy which consists in not uttering one word that
can be avoided. I would probably have a couple of days' solitary ride,
mounted on one horse and driving eight or ten others before me, one of
them carrying my bedding. Loose horses drive best at a trot, or canter,
and if a man is traveling alone in this fashion it is a good thing to
have them reach the camp ground sufficiently late to make them desire
to feed and sleep where they are until morning. In consequence I never
spent more than two days on the journey from whatever the point was at
which I left the Little Missouri, sleeping the one night for as limited
a number of hours as possible.
As soon as I reached the meeting-place I would find out the wagon
to which I was assigned. Riding to it, I turned my horses into the
saddle-band and reported to the wagon boss, or, in his absence, to the
cook--always a privileged character, who was allowed and expected to
order men around. He would usually grumble savagely and profanely about
my having been put with his wagon, but this was merely conventional on
his part; and if I sat down and said nothing he would probably soon ask
me if I wanted anything to eat, to which the correct answer was that I
was not hungry and would wait until meal-time. The bedding rolls of
the riders would be strewn round the grass, and I would put mine down a
little outside the ring, where I would not be in any one's way, with my
six or eight branding-irons beside it. The men would ride in, laughing
and talking with one another, and perhaps nodding to me. One of their
number, usually the wagon foreman, might put some question to me as to
what brands I represented, but no other word would be addressed to me,
nor would I be expected to volunteer any conversation. Supper would
consist of bacon, Dutch oven bread, and possibly beef; once I won
the good graces of my companions at the outset by appearing with two
antelope which I had shot. After supper I would roll up in my bedding as
soon as possible, and the others would follow suit at their pleasure.
At three in the morning or thereabouts, at a yell from the cook, all
hands would turn hurriedly out. Dressing was a simple affair. Then each
man rolled and corded his bedding--if he did not, the cook would leave
it behind and he would go without any for the rest of the trip--and came
to the fire, where he picked out a tin cup, tin plate, and knife and
fork, helped himself to coffee and to whatever food there was, and ate
it standing or squatting as best suited him. Dawn was probably breaking
by this time, and the trampling of unshod hoofs showed that the night
wrangler was bringing in the pony herd. Two of the men would then run
ropes from the wagon at right angles to one another, and into this as
a corral the horses would be driven. Each man might rope one of his own
horses, or more often point it out to the most skillful roper of the
outfit, who would rope it for him--for if the man was an unskillful
roper and roped the wrong horse or roped the horse in the wrong place
there was a chance of the whole herd stampeding. Each man then saddled
and bridled his horse. This was usually followed by some resolute
bucking on the part of two or three of the horses, especially in
the early days of each round-up. The bucking was always a source of
amusement to all the men whose horses did not buck, and these fortunate
ones would gather round giving ironical advice, and especially adjuring
the rider not to "go to leather"--that is, not to steady himself in the
saddle by catching hold of the saddle-horn.
As soon as the men had mounted, the whole outfit started on the long
circle, the morning circle. Usually the ranch foreman who bossed a given
wagon was put in charge of the men of one group by the round-up foreman;
he might keep his men together until they had gone some ten or fifteen
miles from camp, and then drop them in couples at different points. Each
couple made its way toward the wagon, gathering all the cattle it could
find. The morning's ride might last six or eight hours, and it was still
longer before some of the men got in. Singly and in twos and threes they
appeared from every quarter of the horizon, the dust rising from the
hoofs of the steers and bulls, the cows and calves, they had collected.
Two or three of the men were left to take care of the herd while the
others changed horses, ate a hasty dinner, and then came out to the
afternoon work. This consisted of each man in succession being sent into
the herd, usually with a companion, to cut out the cows of his brand or
brands which were followed by unbranded calves, and also to cut out any
mavericks or unbranded yearlings. We worked each animal gently out to
the edge of the herd, and then with a sudden dash took it off at a run.
It was always desperately anxious to break back and rejoin the herd.
There was much breakneck galloping and twisting and turning before its
desire was thwarted and it was driven to join the rest of the cut--that
is, the other animals which had been cut out, and which were being held
by one or two other men. Cattle hate being alone, and it was no easy
matter to hold the first one or two that were cut out; but soon they
got a little herd of their own, and then they were contented. When
the cutting out had all been done, the calves were branded, and all
misadventures of the "calf wrestlers," the men who seized, threw, and
held each calf when roped by the mounted roper, were hailed with yelling
laughter. Then the animals which for one reason or another it was
desired to drive along with the round-up were put into one herd and left
in charge of a couple of night guards, and the rest of us would loaf
back to the wagon for supper and bed.
By this time I would have been accepted as one of the rest of the
outfit, and all strangeness would have passed off, the attitude of my
fellow cow-punchers being one of friendly forgiveness even toward my
spectacles. Night guards for the cattle herd were then assigned by the
captain of the wagon, or perhaps by the round-up foreman, according to
the needs of the case, the guards standing for two hours at a time
from eight in the evening till four in the morning. The first and last
watches were preferable, because sleep was not broken as in both of
the other two. If things went well, the cattle would soon bed down and
nothing further would occur until morning, when there was a repetition
of the work, the wagon moving each day eight or ten miles to some
appointed camping-place.
Each man would picket his night horse near the wagon, usually choosing
the quietest animal in his string for that purpose, because to saddle
and mount a "mean" horse at night is not pleasant. When utterly
tired, it was hard to have to get up for one's trick at night herd.
Nevertheless, on ordinary nights the two hours round the cattle in the
still darkness were pleasant. The loneliness, under the vast empty sky,
and the silence, in which the breathing of the cattle sounded loud, and
the alert readiness to meet any emergency which might suddenly arise
out of the formless night, all combined to give one a sense of subdued
interest. Then, one soon got to know the cattle of marked individuality,
the ones that led the others into mischief; and one also grew to
recognize the traits they all possessed in common, and the impulses
which, for instance, made a whole herd get up towards midnight, each
beast turning round and then lying down again. But by the end of the
watch each rider had studied the cattle until it grew monotonous, and
heartily welcomed his relief guard. A newcomer, of course, had any
amount to learn, and sometimes the simplest things were those which
brought him to grief.
One night early in my career I failed satisfactorily to identify the
direction in which I was to go in order to reach the night herd. It was
a pitch-dark night. I managed to get started wrong, and I never found
either the herd or the wagon again until sunrise, when I was greeted
with withering scorn by the injured cow-puncher, who had been obliged to
stand double guard because I failed to relieve him.
There were other misadventures that I met with where the excuse was
greater. The punchers on night guard usually rode round the cattle in
reverse directions; calling and singing to them if the beasts seemed
restless, to keep them quiet. On rare occasions something happened that
made the cattle stampede, and then the duty of the riders was to keep
with them as long as possible and try gradually to get control of them.
One night there was a heavy storm, and all of us who were at the wagons
were obliged to turn out hastily to help the night herders. After a
while there was a terrific peal of thunder, the lightning struck right
by the herd, and away all the beasts went, heads and horns and tails in
the air. For a minute or two I could make out nothing except the dark
forms of the beasts running on every side of me, and I should have been
very sorry if my horse had stumbled, for those behind would have trodden
me down. Then the herd split, part going to one side, while the other
part seemingly kept straight ahead, and I galloped as hard as ever
beside them. I was trying to reach the point--the leading animals--in
order to turn them, when suddenly there was a tremendous splashing in
front. I could dimly make out that the cattle immediately ahead and to
one side of me were disappearing, and the next moment the horse and I
went off a cut bank into the Little Missouri. I bent away back in the
saddle, and though the horse almost went down he just recovered himself,
and, plunging and struggling through water and quicksand, we made the
other side. Here I discovered that there was another cowboy with
the same part of the herd that I was with; but almost immediately we
separated. I galloped hard through a bottom covered with big cottonwood
trees, and stopped the part of the herd that I was with, but very soon
they broke on me again, and repeated this twice. Finally toward morning
the few I had left came to a halt.
It had been raining hard for some time. I got off my horse and leaned
against a tree, but before long the infernal cattle started on again,
and I had to ride after them. Dawn came soon after this, and I was
able to make out where I was and head the cattle back, collecting other
little bunches as I went. After a while I came on a cowboy on foot