Newspaper Page Text
The Last "Roundup"
CONTINUED FROM PAGE FOUR. Among the other brands that would stand out in the red, raw flesh of mav ericks. would be 3 V, used by John i. Murphy of Helena. This brand was later changed to 79. RL was 1 the brand of the Ryan Brothers located f-t the bis bend of the Musselshell Ri\ 'er. This outfit was noted for its splendid racing horses, among which was "Montana.' a world winner in his class. 1 he HX outfit was owned by Samuel Coffman. This brand is still in existence used by John Chandler. The NF brand was used by the North Field Ranch Company, an English con cern with its headquarters a few miles cast of the present town of Roundup. The Horseshoe Bar Ranch was located rear the present town of Broadview. Other brands that might have been seen were the Circle Bar, N Bar. IH. Box, end Dude E. The last mentioned had a significance that the uninitiated would not at first fully appreciate. It was a brand adopted by the Remington Fire Arms Company that owned and operated a ranch near Elso. The brand was a la roe E made like a Greek char acter, at first the cowboys didn't know what the brand was, but when they dis covered that it was an E they immedi ately gave it the appellation of "Dude E." If the roundup was for the purpose of securing cattle for shipment to fui- 1 fill large contracts, faster progress was made. Billings was generally the ob jective point. Here three and four trainloaa of Montana rangers would be loaded out on the next day after the arrival of the drive, and it often developed into a gigantic contest to see which outfit would top the market. The life of the cowpuncher is not all hurry and hustle. He too has his recreation and his festive seasons. The cirrival of the outfit at the quaint old town of Roundup was generally the oc casion for the social event of the year. The drive was left in the care of one guard on the outskirts of the village, the rest of the outfit proceeding to en liven the town by filling the air with : shouts and shots. In the evening the dance hall is the: center of the merry festival. What a j dance! The whole town is out, old &nd young, big and little, cowboys and clerks, fat bartenders and mere babies, fell join without regard to any conven tionality in the jolly time. Every per son knows every other person. No cutaway or pomp will go. No need for formal introduction! There are no blushing wall flowers, all are doing their utmost to keep step to the rag time music that goes well with boots, chaps, spurs ana six-shooters. If the hilarity slackens someone smokes up the hall ! and puts another air hole in the ceil ing with his forty-five. The gay time continues till dawn when the cowboys with a few parting shouts and shots be gin the drive again. Such was the roundup of twenty or more years ago, such were the scenes every dry along the valley of the Mus selshell. But the tide of immigration has transformed the valley in the same way that it transformed other fertile valleys to the eastward. Stockmen View W Mie» Ne. 2 •< th* kapeUic CmI C«apuy, Sforiag Sled Tipple aad Cradle B*z Car Leader, 1 1 : j ! fought desperately against the stream, and discouraged all efforts at settle ment. I hev have destroyed landmarks. They have never made known to the world the richness of the soil. They even told the "pilgrim" that it would be impossible to get a living from this land. They even yet console them raising an important part of his farm ing, and if he does not. the lack of profits will torce relinquishments, and thus bring about a partial restoration of former range conditions. But in spite of their efforts and vain hopes, the evo lution has come and today the tiller of the soil has almost displaced the pic new settler will have to make stock selves with the mistaken idea, that the turesque cowboy, and the ranchman with his thousands of acres of range for cattle, horses or sheep has been forced out of business by reason of lack of range country. Now the shacks of the homesteader dot the valley where for merly for miles and miles the chuck wagon and immense herds of cattle were the only visible signs of life. The tendency is ever towards the small farm managed by the individual farmer on a small intensive plan. With the spread of immigration, and advanced knowl edge in agriculture and stock-raising two acres of land is being made to do the work of ten or fifty acres of range. And what has become of the cow boy, the hero of the plains. He has almost vanished. Now and then one comes to town in the conventional garb of chaps, boots, spurs, and broad rimmed hat, but he is a lonely figure, and his appearance only serves to re freshen the memory of some tradition of the days of the range. Why has he gone? His usefulness is gone. Cat tle are now kept within fences and are fed in small pastures where the natural grass of the prairies has been supplant ed by fodder. Cattle that are accus tomed to the sight of human beings, and can be led about by the horn, and fat farm-fed beeves, are driven in small, decorus herds a mile or less to the neigh boring railroad station, and it is often that the driver is the stable boy who may have helped to "feed" that morn ing. There is no need of the roundup, the saddle-bunch, the chuck-wagon, the night-wrangler, or the stray man ; the ability to brand, rope and cut-out is possessed by only a few who, at an earlier time took part in that interesting life. The cowboy is not fitted tor any other employment. He will not become a farmer. The fact is, he cannot, be has attained no greater success as a farmer than the cabby has as a chauf feur. To h im it appears ridiculous that the "pilgrim" or "nester," as he calls the homesteader, should walk ten or twelve miles to his claim. The cow puncher "wouldn't do it on a bet," he would wait for a saddle-pony or break one in for the trip. He is not lazy or indolent, but he has been educated in the manners and customs of the old days of the range, and his whole train ing has been for a different life than that of the farmer. He could make a frontiersman, but not a farmer. The cowboy will disappear as the buffalo-hunters have disappeared. A generation or two will pass away, and then the fringed hero of the west will be no more. 1 here are but few left now ro tei 1 the true story of life in the early days in the valey, in the gulches, and on the bench-lands. Now and then and especially in the holiday season an old time cowpuncher winds his way to town partly because of a desire to associate with other people, and partly tiv.ties of Christmas. Then it is that fragments of the story so full of inter est and adventure fall, to be gathered up and moulded into thrilling novel, j then it is that the generation of today more fully appreciate the noble courage of these men, who blazed the trails, drove the savage, induced the railroad and made possible the va-t empiie that i< j growing in the heart of the treasure state. T et the cowboy is at once the best known and the most widely misrepre- ; sented type of western man. In the east i the popular conception is that he is a 1 half wild man. delighting in dangerous ! quarrels, and in shooting-up the town. : But it is false. This conception is ! gained from the exceptions. 1 rue there have been and there still are those cow punchers. who have the mistaken idea that it is typical ot the vocation to en gage m wild adventure and boisterous I outlawery. But they are lew and are hated by the large majority, playwrights who give the blear-eyed, : hard-hearted villian a prominent part in the western «tory, do it for the sake of ; spectacular display and not for the sake ! o! portraying the preceding type. On the contrary the cowboy is big i hearted, whole-souled, and radiates a wealth of good cheer. He is plain and blunt and honest. He admires his straightforward companion and expects respect in return. Accustomed to a free life on the plains, he is naturally impatient of restraint. The air he breathes is full of the spirit "that one man is as good as another." He is liberal to a fault, and will give his all to his fellow workman because he feels sure of its return. He does not shoot up the town, and his means pre vent gambling. Most ranee bosses de mand that their men neither drink nor gamble. If a rowdy looks for trouble, he is bound to find it no matter where he is, and if his lot be in the land of the cowboy, his punishment is sure and quick, for he is generally hated as one who misrepresents his calling. I he same odium attaches to the "cattle rustler," and even today if the sligthest suspicion of the commission at some ear ly time of this great crime hangs over the head of a cattleman he is still dis trusted and held in dishonor, while a horse thief may be shot dow n or lynched upon apprehension. 1 his is the rough but honest code of honor of the cowboy, who will soon become a historic figure. With a love of fair play and a «trong sense of roueh and readv honestv he goes into the roundups each fall and spring with that vim that is characteristic of his class. His play would be work to most men, but it makes for Purdy manhood. His work requires skill and practice, and he is proud of his dexterity. Such is the life of the true hero of the west, who is vanishing in our day. His work is done. The boys will never again gather along the Musselshell. The last round up has been made, the evolution is al most complete, and the herd of the cowboy has a new- birth of civilization. Get in right fT i-truns night Fail Slumber Holies. A pleasant surprise to greet his eyes on the 2 ~ th Ties. oOÇ' to $1.00 (Fad) Asking $'2T 1 " > dan ages, the widow of the Ionian policeman nam ed Bari seam who f<-]] from the boat City of Poison summer and was drowned, ha* b -tituted suit in the district court at Kalispel through Attorney H. P. Napton. Pariseau was intoxicated at the time and the widow claims tnat it was through negligence of the captain that he was allowed to fall. Ten minor children were named as co-plaintiffs. KBcesKsasesa Stinar Bob'* «Ht IHdMWKWUim T WAS Christmas in a mining camp in tha Rooky mountain«, forty year* ago. There were many men, but only one little girt. She waa alb ting In front of a fire* place, which occupied one whole end of "the beet oabln In camp." Her eeat waa g flat piece of pine log. Lying close th her waa a Mg fit Bernard dog. ' "lllner Bob saya that Santa Claua fomaa down the chimney; but now, ■over, we know better then that" took hold ot the dog*a collar, and 1 hie heed toward the fireplace, if he should get down the chlm r. he'd he homed up. He could not anything with him without geh wrmg a&jtomi witn him without mt» fltif tt Mmek mm* m pnt ^ An Interested Crowd at the Experimental Station on the Oluf Jeusvold Farm North of Roundup. I : ; ! i fire out tonight with that pall of water." Rover got up and took a lap or two and then came hack and waited for the rest of ttie story. She continued: "But I don't believe tny Santa Claus will come away out hero, where there Is only you and me. Here she stooped and whispered in the dog's ear. "We'll leave the win Sow open. Of course. Rover, I don't mind telling you why I am so anxious for Santa Clans not to come down that chimney. You see, I want a doll. Miner Bob says that Santa Claus brings you what you wlBh for. 1 Dever saw real dolls, but thpy must be beautiful things. This picture 1 ■eut out of a magazine la a doll, se Miner Bob saya. Whe\£! It mustn't eome down the chimney, Rover, It mustn't " In a few minutes the dog and the tittle girl were both fast asleep. Thlf time the child's head was pillowed on Rover's shaggy coat and In her hand •he tightly held an advertisement ot Christmas toys. Two men. sitting at a pine table in the other end of the cabin, were talk ing in a low, myaterlous manner. "We are 'most out of food, yon know," said one; "only five potatoes left. We paid $100 for the last, stick but we could not get another atlck for love or money. We have been mowed In now for three months, and we've got to count on four weeks more be fore there is any hope of getting out of here." "Yea, I know It," replied hla com panlon, "but I'm going to do It Juel the same." , j I j j , W. E. WYNNE GENERAL CONTRACTOR NSPECT our work on the new school build ing and the J. B. Ryan House in Roundup. Give us a Chance to Figure on Your Job. "You know the boas' orders," spoke up the first man, who was Miner Boh "We'll catch It tf we disobey, especial ly when starvation Is staring us In the face." "I can't help It," was the reply "put it all on me; I'll stand the blame." The men drew their chairs closer together, and there they worked fm several hours, stopping Just long enough to lift the little girl from the floor to her cot, where she went on dreaming of Santa Claus and the beautiful doll. It was a bitter cold night—a regular blizzard 1 Several miners lost their way going from one camp to the other and were frozen to death. Ant mais that failed to get under shelter were found dead next morning. The little girl remembers no more of that most terrible storm In the his tory of the camp, but next morning she was awakened early by her father trying to close a broken window. He said It had been crushed tn by the storm, but tbe little girl said, "No. Santa Claus did It." "lie's been here!" she cried, and In her excitement fairly rolled from her cot over the floor to the chimney. With rrles of "It's a doll—a doll!" she clasped to her heart the most beautiful thing she had ever seen, "it's my doll, all mine; and It's got eyes, and a nose, and a mouth, and ears and hair and auch a beautiful red flannel dress!" She kissed it agnln and again, and no heart ever came so near bursting with Joy as the heart of that little girl, way out fn tfie snöwed-ln mine, with death and starvation all about her. The two miners had eome in, and wera listening to the wonderful «tory as It fell again from the childish lips, "You used them all," Interrupted the father, gazing sternly at the man, "Yes." said Miner Bob, "we used them all." "It was wrong, very wrong?" "We could not help It." replied the other miner. "It was the only wajt to make It, and we'd rather go hungry the rest of our days than have the kid disappointed." The "kid." oblivious of anything but the blessed Joy of possessing a doll, was telling Rover: "Father thinks the wind broke the window. I forgot tg open it; hut, you see, Santa Claus knows Just what you want, so hd brought the doll through the window! to save her from getting dirty coming down the chimney." Little did she realize that of all tbg dolls found that Christmas morning In the stockings of the little ones all ove$ the United States not one was mads of as precious material as hers. Shf was clasping to her bosom the "onlj| five potatoes In camp." They had bee* carved Into "Mias Doll" by Miner Bob, and dressed In pieces of the only good red flannel shirt that the other man possessed. Forty Christmas days have passed since then, and they have all bees happy ones, but the peculiar and ex< qutslte satisfaction I experience In pressing to my heart "my potaU dell" has never been exceeded.