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Updated: May 20, 2025
'Fore we 'd got that bunch o' cattle twenty mile down the Cimarron we wus rounded up by a gang o' Cheyenne Injuns, headed by that ornery Koleta, and every horn of 'em drove off. Thar wa'n't no fight; the damn bucks just laughed at us, an' left us sittin' thar out on the prairie. They hogged hosses an' all." He wiped his face, and spat into the fire, while Hamlin sat silent, gun in hand.
After a hasty supper the march was resumed, and at sunrise the next morning they reached Maxwell's Ranch on the Cimarron, having made sixty-four miles in less than twenty-four hours. At ten o'clock on the second night thereafter, the command entered Fort Union.
Cimarron also was busy tuning his rebeck and trying over the melodies of the songs which Ranulph the troubadour had written for this little drama. It was based on the story of the ten virgins, and contained much by-play and shrewd comment on the follies and fashions of the day.
Thus, the regiment being dismounted by this misfortune at the threshold of the campaign, an important factor of my cavalry was lost to me, though as foot-troops the Kansas volunteers continued to render very valuable services till mustered out the next spring. A few days were necessarily lost setting up and refitting the Kansas regiment after its rude experience in the Cimarron canyons.
Only the small cattle owners suffered because of the drought. Riders told of the presence of plenty of water in the Canadian, the Cimarron, and the Ute. Carrizo held some. In fact, nearly all the streams held by the large ranchers seemed to contain plenty.
"Pard, heah's to the old Cimarron," said Blinky, as they drank again. Pan had no response. Memory of the Cimarron only guided his flying mind over the ranges to Las Animas. They drank and drank. Blinky's tongue grew looser. "Hold your tongue, damn you," said Pan. "Imposshiblity. Lesh have another." "One more then. You're drunk, cowboy." "Me drunk? No shir, pard.
Old Heck stepped to the door of the bunk-house and looked out across the valley. The Cimarron roared sullenly beyond the meadow. The lower field was a lake of muddy water, backed up from the gorge below. He glanced toward the circular corral. "What th' Who left horses up last night?" he asked of the cowboys dressing sleepily inside the bunk-house. "Nobody," Parker answered for the group.
Though famed as an orator, Red understood very well that, at times, action is everything, and there is death in long speaking. He was noted as a man who never missed his mark; and in the Cimarron country, which belonged to no state and therefore to no court, extensive and deadly had been his practise, without fear of retribution. Now, however, his bullet had gone astray.
He remembered a sensation something like it when he and Cimarron had crossed a mountain torrent in Spain on a log a hundred and fifty feet above the jagged rocks and tearing waters. And as on that occasion, Cimarron did his part as calmly and indifferently as if he were mending a strap in the donkey's harness. Certainly the play was a success.
"An ign'rant, savage, stupid brute!" he murmured bitterly, "well, I reckon she was right Hell!" he exclaimed aloud, "I wonder if Skinny'll remember about that upper crossin' bein' dang'rous with quicksand after the rain Guess he did," he finished as the two riders turned to the right toward the lower and more distant river ford and disappeared among the willows and cottonwood trees that fringed the Cimarron.
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