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narrow escapes from the Indians on the
Llano, and advised us to keep a good
look-out for them when we got there —
that they were as “ thick in that section
as pig tracks around a corn-crib.”
They had not tasted bread for nearly
three months, and we gave them a few
pounds of hard-tack, which they began
to munch at once, as if it had been the
greatest delicacy in the world. In re
turn, they presented us with some dried
beavers’ tails, and half-a-dozen buffalo
tongues. After some further confab,
we bid the trappers good-bye, and pro
ceeded on our way.
In about an hour afterwards we reach
ed the timber skirting the Seco. Just
as we were entering it, we discovered a
herd of wild cattle quietly grazing on
the edge of it, four or five hundred
yards below us. Uncle Seth immedi
ately ordered us to conceal ourselves
within the timber, and to wait there
until he could slip down and get a shot
at the cattle, as he said he wanted some
“ fresh” for supper.
“Now, boys,” said he, as he dis
mounted from his horse and tied him
to a tree, “don’t budge a foot from
here, until you hear my gun crack;
then make for me as fast as you can,
for I reckon I shall git meat. And
don’t forgit to bring my horse along
with you.” And so saying, he re
capped his gun, and started off at a
“dog-trot” through the open timber.
I dismounted from my horse, and
went to the edge of the woods, from
whence a distinct view of the cattle
could be had, to watch the effect of
Uncle Seth’s shot. In about a quarter
of an hour, I saw a faint puff of white
smoke issue from the edge of the
woods, just opposite the spot where
the cattle were grazing, and before the
report of the gun reached me, I saw
one of them tumble headlong to the
ground, and the remainder of the herd
scamper away in the wildest affright. I
hastened back to my horse, and mount
ing him, we all hurried off to assist
Uncle Seth in butchering his game, and
came up just as he was giving the ani
mal the coup de grace , by drawing his
butcher knife across its throat. The
game proved to be a fine yearling, as
fat as a stalled ox.
“I could have killed a larger one,”
said Uncle Seth, apologetically, “but
there wa’nt no fat cows in the drove,
and a yearlin’ is much better meat than
a bull.”
Whilst some of us held the horses,
the rest assisted Uncle Seth in peeling
the hide from the yearling. When this
was accomplished, with his butcher
knife he cut out the’tender loin, and
about twenty pouuds of steak from the
hams.
“It’s a great pity,” said he, “to
leave so much good inert on the pe
rara for the cayotes ; but there’s no
help for it, for we can't destroy more
than we’ve got. Howsomdever,” he
added, when he_had tied the pieces of
BURKE’S WEEKLY FOR BOYS AND GIRLS.
meat he had cut from the carcase on
the pack-mule, “we will strike camp
purty soon; and I think we might as
well take the critter’s head too —it’s
the best part of an animal when it’s
fixed up right.”
“Ki! Mass Seth,” said Cudjo, “how
you gwying to cook ’em? You can’t
bile him in de coffee pot, and you can’t
fry him in de frying pan.”
“Nevermind,” said Uncle Seth, as
he cut off the head, and fastened it to
the horn of his saddle, “ I’ll show you
how to cook it when we git to camp.”
It was not more than a quarter of a
mile to the creek in a direct line, and
as soon as we came to it we struck
camp near a fine pool of water, under
the shelter of some spreading live oaks.
Our camping place was just on the
edge of a beautiful little prairie, co
vered with luxuriant grass, which af
forded fine pasturage for our animals.
Whilst Cudjo was busy preparing sup
per, Uncle Seth dug a pit in the ground
with his butcher knife, sufficiently deep
to receive the yearling’s head. In and
about this pit he piled up a quantity
of wood, and set fire to it. When the
heap had burned to coals and ashes, he
cleared out the pit, and placed the
yearling’s head in it, just as it had
been taken from the animal. Then
covering it with hot embers and ashes,
he built another fire over all, and left
it to its fate.
“ It’s a slow way of cooking, boys,”
said Uncle Seth, “but in the mornin’
we’ll have a breakfast off of it that’ll
beat all natur in the way of vittels.”
Uncle Seth had noticed a bee tree,
as we came along, in the timber which
was near us ; and after disposing of his
yearling’s head, he and Lawrence and
myself concluded to get the honey.
Willie begged so hard that we let him
go with us. Though the moon was
shining, we took a torch to help us
kill the bees. We soon found the tree,
and after taking as much honey as we
could possibly use, we returned to
camp, just as Cudjo gave us the pleas
ing intelligence that supper was ready,
and we took our positions around the
platters with appetites well sharpened
by our long day’s ride.
Cudjo had cooked the steaks to per
fection, and after disposing of two or
three pounds a-piece, we came to the
conclusion that the meat of wild cattle
was more juicy, rich and tender than
that of the domesticated animals. It
is more like bear meat or venison, and
has what sportsmen term the genuine
game flavor.
“Mr. Pitt,” said Henry, with his
mouth so full of steak he could hardly
articulate, “do you know where these
wild cattle originally came from?”
“Yes,” said Mr. Pitt, helping him
self to another slice of steak about the
size of his foot, “ the stock was brought
here by the Spaniards, who first settled
this country more than a hundred and
fifty years ago. Some of their settle-
ments were broken up by the Ineians,
and the stocks of horses and cattle
about them, unherded and uncared for,
in the course of time relapsed into a
state of nature. This occurred the more
readily, from the fact that the mildness
of the climate, and the great abundance
of nutritious grasses throughout the
year, rendered them independent of
the aid and protection of man. From
these have descended all the immense
herds of wild cattle and horses that
now roam the country from the moun
tains to the shores of the Gulf of Mex
ico. There is one singular fact,” he
continued, “in regard to these wild
cattle, which is, that there is no variety
of colors among them, such as we find
amongst domesticated animals. They
are all, without exception, of one uni
form dun color, with a dark streak
down the back, extending from the
shoulders to the root of the tail. On
the contrary, the colors of the mustangs
or wild horses are even more varied
than those of our domesticated ani
mals.”
“Uncle Seth,” said Willie, “I have
often heard old hunters tell about the
immense herds of wild horses they had
seen on the plains between the Nueces
and the Rio Grande, and I should like
to know how many you think you ever
saw at one time.”
“I can’t answer your question ad
zactly,” said Uncle Seth; “but once,
when I was out on the Pintos, about
two years ago, I saw a drove of mus
tangs that was rnore’n five or six miles
long, for it was a dead level perara,
and the horses kivered the yearth, just
as fur as I could see ; and the trompin’
of their hoofs made sich a racket, that
I couldn’t hear a man speak in five foot
of me.”
“ Why, Uncle Seth,” said Willie,
“that story beats Baron Munchausen.
It would take a million of horses to
cover a dead level prairie as far as you
could see.”
“ 1 don’t care how many it would
take,” said Uncle Seth, as he broke a
cake of hard-tack across his knee, and
dipped a portion of it in the sop ; “all I
know is, that the horses were thar, es
it tuck twenty millions of’em.”
“ Oh! 1 didn’t mean to dispute your
word, Uncle Seth,” said Willie; “only
it seems to me it would require a vast
number of horses to cover so much
ground.”
“ Yes, it does,” replied the old man,
“ but how many I can’t say, for I didn't
count ’em. I ruther expect they had
banded together like the turkeys we
seed to-day, to make a move from one
part of the country to another, where
water perhaps was more plentiful, or
the grazing better.”
After supper, we spread cur blankets
on the grass around the fire, and
stretched ourselves upon them; for
although we had pitched the tent, the
weather was so dry and pleasant that
no one cared to occupy it.
“It’s too soon to go to sleep yet,”
said Lawrence, “and I move that Un
cle Seth tell us another yarn.”
Uncle Seth bit off the end of a plug
of “ James River,” and after chewing
upon it meditatively for a while, he
took deliberate aim at a blazing chunk
that had rolled down from the fire, and
spit it out the first pop.
“ Well, boys,” said he at length, “ I
don’t believe I ever told you about the
tight race the Ingens gin me last fall,
on the head of York’s Creek. You see,
I had gone up thar along with a party
of surveyors that had hired me to hunt
for ’em. They had agreed to pay me
three dollars a day, for every day that
I furnished them as much meat as they
could eat; and I never missed arning
my wages but once while we was out
on the trip, and that was the day the
Ingens gin me sich a close race. But a
feller can’t hunt to do any good, with a
crowd of Ingens screechin’ behind him
like a pack of hungry wolves ; and even
arter he gits away from ’em, es lie’s as
lucky as I was, it kinder onsettles his
narves for a while, so that he can’t
draw a sure bead upon anything—least
ways I’ve found it so.
“ Well, on the day the Ingens crowd
ed me so, I had started olf from camp
as usual to get my supply of meat, but
somehow the deer seemed to be oncom
mon scace, aud I reckon I travelled
fully five mile before I got a shot.
Howsomdever, I at last got a ctnnop
at a drove of old bucks, and I ‘ upped’
one of the biggest of’em in his tracks. ,
I got down from my pony (for I wa’lit
ridin’ Roarer then), and hitched him to
a bush, until I could butcher the deer.
There was a purty large perara to the
north of me, and jest as I had about
half peeled the hide from the buck, I
happened to look in that direction, and
I seed fifteen or twenty Cotnanches
cornin’ right for me ‘ lickety split,’ jest
as fast as their ponies could carry ’em.
I seed very plain I should have to put
off skinnin’ my deer till a healthier sea
son, so I grabbed up my gun, bounced
on my pony, and started for camp with
all the ruu 1 could git out’ll him with
whip and spurs.
“I hilt my own purty well with the
Comanches for maybe so a mile; but
then I begin to see that they was
creepin’ up on me, and as there was
at four mile ylt betwixt me and
camp, I thought there was a tolerable
fair chance for your Uncle Seth to lose
his sculp before he could make the
‘riffle.’ Howsomdever, when I found
there wa’nt no show to beat the Ingens
a fair race, I concluded 1 would try
and play ‘old soldier’ upon ’em.
“About three-quarters of a mile from
me, in the direction of camp, there was
a low range of hills, with some scat
terin’ chapparal on the fur side of it,
and I detarmined to make a push and
git to the hills so fur ahead of’em, as
to give me time to dodge ’em in a way
that jest then had come into my mind.