hen some
long-haired old Cracker drops into the nearest station with his gun and
pistol, and wants the telegraph operator to settle immediately on the
basis of the Cracker's claim for damages, which is always absurdly high.
At first the railroads demurred, but the cowboys lined up in the "bresh"
on some dark night and pumped Winchesters into the train in a highly
picturesque way. The trainmen at once recognized the force of the
Cracker's views on cattle-killing, but it took some considerable
"potting" at the more conservative superintendents before the latter
could bestir themselves and invent a "cow-attorney," as the company
adjuster is called, who now settles with the bushmen as best he can.
Certainly no worse people ever lived since the big killing up
Muscleshell way, and the romance is taken out of it by the cowardly
assassination which is the practice. They are well paid for their
desperate work, and always eat fresh beef or "razor-backs," and deer
which they kill in the woods. The heat, the poor grass, their brutality,
and the pest of the flies kill their ponies, and, as a rule, they lack
dash and are indifferent riders, but they are picturesque in their
unkempt, almost unearthly wildness. A strange effect is added by their
use of large, fierce cur-dogs, one of which accompanies each
cattle-hunter, and is taught to pursue cattle, and to even take them by
the nose, which is another instance of their brutality. Still, as they
only have a couple of horses apiece, it saves them much extra running.
These men do not use the rope, unless to noose a pony in a corral, but
work their cattle in strong log corrals, which are made at about a day's
march apart all through the woods. Indeed, ropes are hardly necessary,
since the cattle are so small and thin that two men can successfully
"wrestle" a three-year-old. A man goes into the corral, grabs a cow by
one horn, and throwing his other arm over her back, waits until some
other man takes her hind leg, whereat ensues some very entertaining
Graeco-Roman style.

[Illustration: 40 A BIT OF COW COUNTRY]

When the cow is successful, she finds her audience of Cracker cowboys
sitting on the fence awaiting another opening, and gasping for breath.
The best bull will not go over three hundred pounds, while I have seen a
yearling at a hundred and fifty--if you, O knights of the riata, can
imagine it! Still, it is desperate work. Some of the men are so reckless
and active that they do no