Reed Anthony, Cowman | Page 4

in the woods, feeding and thriving on the
mast, but before killing time we always baited them into the fields and
finished their fattening with peas and corn. It was customary to wait
until the beginning of winter, or about the second cold spell, to butcher,
and at the time in question there were about fifty large hogs to kill. It
was a gala event with us boys, the oldest of whom were allowed to
shoot one or more with a rifle. The hogs had been tolled into a small
field for the killing, and towards the close of the day a number of them,
having been wounded and requiring a second or third shot, became
cross. These subsequent shots were usually delivered from a
six-shooter, and in order to have it at hand in case of a miss I was
intrusted with carrying the pistol. There was one heavy-tusked
five-year-old stag among the hogs that year who refused to present his
head for a target, and took refuge in a brier thicket. He was left until the
last, when we all sallied out to make the final kill. There were two rifles,
and had the chance come to my father, I think he would have killed him
easily; but the opportunity came to a neighbor, who overshot, merely
causing a slight wound. The next instant the stag charged at me from
the cover of the thickety fence corner. Not having sense enough to take
to the nearest protection, I turned and ran like a scared wolf across the
field, the hog following me like a hound. My father risked a running
shot, which missed its target. The darkies were yelling, "Run, chile!
Run, Mars' Reed! Shoot! Shoot!" when it occurred to me that I had a
pistol; and pointing it backward as I ran, I blazed away, killing the big
fellow in his tracks.
The other occasion was years afterward, when I was a trail foreman at
Abilene, Kansas. My herd had arrived at that market in bad condition,

gaunted from almost constant stampedes at night, and I had gone into
camp some distance from town to quiet and recuperate them. That day I
was sending home about half my men, had taken them to the depot with
our wagon, and intended hauling back a load of supplies to my camp.
After seeing the boys off I hastened about my other business, and near
the middle of the afternoon started out of town. The distance to camp
was nearly twenty miles, and with a heavy load, principally salt, I knew
it would be after nightfall when I reached there. About five miles out of
town there was a long, gradual slope to climb, and I had to give the
through team their time in pulling to its summit. Near the divide was a
small box house, the only one on the road if I remember rightly, and as
I was nearing it, four or five dogs ran out and scared my team. I
managed to hold them in the road, but they refused to quiet down,
kicking, rearing, and plunging in spite of their load; and once as they
jerked me forward, I noticed there was a dog or two under the wagon,
nipping at their heels. There was a six-shooter lying on the seat beside
me, and reaching forward I fired it downward over the end gate of the
wagon. By the merest accident I hit a dog, who raised a cry, and the last
I saw of him he was spinning like a top and howling like a wolf. I
quieted the team as soon as possible, and as I looked back, there was a
man and woman pursuing me, the latter in the lead. I had gumption
enough to know that they were the owners of the dog, and whipped up
the horses in the hope of getting away from them. But the grade and the
load were against me, and the next thing I knew, a big, bony woman,
with fire in her eye, was reaching for me. The wagon wheel warded her
off, and I leaned out of her reach to the far side, yet she kept abreast of
me, constantly calling for her husband to hurry up. I was pouring the
whip into the horses, fearful lest she would climb into the wagon, when
the hub of the front wheel struck her on the knee, knocking her down. I
was then nearing the summit of the divide, and on reaching it, I looked
back and saw the big woman giving her husband the pommeling that
was intended for me. She was altogether too near me yet, and I shook
the lines over the horses, firing a few shots to frighten them, and we
tore