nce on a
reservation where the Indians could have got me easy enough if they had
been on the war-path. It was the first winter I ever spent on a Northern
range, having gone up to the Cherokee Strip to avoid--well, no matter.
I got a job in the Strip, not riding, but as a kind of an all-round
rustler. This was long before the country was fenced, and they rode
lines to keep the cattle on their ranges. One evening about nightfall
in December, the worst kind of a blizzard struck us that the country had
ever seen. The next day it was just as bad, and BLOODY cold. A fellow
could not see any distance, and to venture away from the dugout meant
to get lost. The third day she broke and the sun came out clear in the
early evening. The next day we managed to gather the saddle horses, as
they had not drifted like the cattle.

"Well, we were three days overtaking the lead of that cattle drift, and
then found them in the heart of the Cheyenne country, at least on that
reservation. They had drifted a good hundred miles before the storm
broke. Every outfit in the Strip had gone south after their cattle.
Instead of drifting them back together, the different ranches rustled
for their own. Some of the foremen paid the Indians so much per head to
gather for them, but ours didn't. The braves weren't very much struck
on us on that account. I was cooking for the outfit, which suited me in
winter weather. We had a permanent camp on a small well-wooded creek,
from which we worked all the country round.

"One afternoon when I was in camp all alone, I noticed an Indian
approaching me from out of the timber. There was a Winchester standing
against the wagon wheel, but as the bucks were making no trouble, I gave
the matter no attention. Mr. Injun came up to the fire and professed
to be very friendly, shook hands, and spoke quite a number of words in
English. After he got good and warm, he looked all over the wagon,
and noticing that I had no sixshooter on, he picked up the carbine and
walked out about a hundred yards to a little knoll, threw his arms in
the air, and made signs.

"Instantly, out of the cover of some timber on the creek a quarter
above, came about twenty young bucks, mounted, and yelling like demons.
When they came up, they began circling around the fire and wagon. I was
sitting on an empty corn-crate by the fire. One young buck, seeing that
I was not scaring to suit him, unslung a carbine as he rode, and shot
into the fire before