MOTHER AND I MEET AT LAST.

After spending a week with aunt Mary, I grew restless and pulled for Galveston to visit my uncle "Nick." I went by way of steamboat down Buffalo bayou, leaving my horse and saddle in Houston.

I landed in the "Island City" one evening about dark. The first man I met, I inquired of him, if he knew where Mr. Nicholas White lived? "Why of course," was his quick answer, "I have known him for seventeen years." He then gave me the directions how to find him.

His wife, whom he had just married a short while before, she being his second wife, met me at the door and escorted me to the bed room where I found the old fellow three sheets in the wind. He soon braced up though and tendered me a hearty welcome.

The next day he spent in showing me around the city and introducing me to his friends as his little nephew who had to "skip" from western Texas for stealing cattle. I remember there were several high toned officials among the ones he introduced me to; one of them I think was Tom Ochiltree—a red-headed Congressman or Senator, I forget which.

The old gentleman had a horse and buggy, consequently I had a regular picnic, during my stay, driving up and down the beach watching the pretty girls go in bathing.

I remained there two weeks and on taking my departure uncle "Nick" presented me with a Spencer Carbine—one he had captured from a yankee while out scouting during the war. I was very proud of the gift for I had never owned a repeating rifle before.

I landed in Houston flat broke, but wasn't long in making a raise of ten dollars from aunt Mary. Boney-part had been taken good care of during my absence, which made him feel too rollicky—he tried to pitch me off when I got on him.

After bidding aunt Mary and uncle "Jim" good-bye I struck out for Allen, Pool & Co.'s ranch on Simms' bayou. There I hired to a Mr. Joe Davis of Clear creek, who had the contract furnishing beef to the Gulf, Colorado and Santa Fe R. R. which was just building out from Galveston.

About the first of September I mounted Ranger, a pony I swapped Boney-part for and lit out for Tresspalacious. My wound by that time was about well.

On arriving at Mr. "Tom" Kuykendall's at the head of Tresspalacious river, I learned that mother was at Mr. Morris', at the mouth of Cashe's creek, waiting for me. She had arrived there just a few days after my departure—for parts unknown, as no one knew where I was going.

You see after getting shot I wrote to mother telling her of the accident and also sending her some money, as I was in the habit of doing when flush. Hence, like a kind mother, she came out to be of service to me, but arrived too late.

It is needless to say we were glad to meet, for the first time in several long years.

I went right to work trying to rig up a home for her. She had brought some money with her and I sold a lot of Mavricks—some of those I branded the winter previous—for two dollars a head, therefore we both together had money enough to build and furnish a shanty.

As Mr. Morris was just going to Indianola in his schooner we sent by him after our lumber, etc. But before he got there the "big" storm, which swept nearly every soul from the Peninsula and nearly wiped Indianola out of existence, struck him and scattered his boat, money and everything he had aboard to the four winds of Heaven. He and his son "Tom" barely escaped with their own lives.

Mother and I experienced a share of the same storm too; we were still at Mr. Morris.' The storm came about ten o'clock at night and blew the Morris mansion down, leaving us, Mrs. Morris, her three children and a step-son, "Jim," mother and myself to paddle around in water up to our waists until morning.

When daylight came the Bay shore was lined with dead cattle just as far as the eye could reach; cattle that had blown into the water and drowned.

When Mr. Morris got back he started a new ranch up at the head of Cashe's creek, where I had camped the winter before and I built mother a shanty a few hundred yards from his, so she wouldn't get lonesome while I was away.

I built it out of an old torn down house that I bought from Mr. John Pierce on "tick" for I was then financially "busted."

Cattle didn't die very badly that coming winter, therefore I did not make much money. But towards spring I got my work in branding Mavricks. Some days I would brand as high as fifteen or twenty head.

That spring there was a law passed prohibiting the carrying of pistols and I was the first man to break the law, for which they socked a heavier fine to me than I was able to pay; but I found a good friend in the person of Mr. John Pierce who loaned me the desired amount without asking for it.

The first of April I hired to W. B. Grimes to go "up the trail" at thirty dollars per month. I bade mother good bye, promising to return, sure, that coming fall.

Our outfit consisted of twenty-five hundred head of old mossy-horn steers, a cook and twenty-five riders, including the boss, Asa Dawdy, with six head of good horses to the man.

Everything went on lovely with the exception of swimming swollen streams, fighting now and then among ourselves and a stampede every stormy night, until we arrived on the Canadian river in the Indian territory; there we had a little indian scare. When within a few miles of the river, Dawdy went on ahead to look up a good crossing; it wasn't long until we discovered a terrible dust on the trail between us and the river; it looked like it might be a cyclone coming, but instead of that it was our boss returning. He galloped up almost out of wind telling us to stop the herd and make preparations for war, as the woods along the river were covered with indians on the war path.

After getting everything in shape for war, he selected two of his best armed men, which happened to be Otto Draub and myself, to go back with him and try to make peace with the red devils. We scoured the woods out thoroughly, but only succeeded in finding one old, blind "buck." Asa had, no doubt, seen him and imagined the rest. From that time on though we were among indians all the time; and they used to try and scare Asa into giving them "wo-ha's," (cattle) but he wasn't one of the scaring kind—except when taken by surprise.

Everything went on smoothly again until we arrived at "Salt Fork" close to the Kansas line. It was raining and storming terribly when we hove in sight of the above named river. Asa went on ahead with the wagons—we having an extra one along then to haul wood and water in—to find a crossing, but on arriving there he found it very high, almost swimming; he succeeded in getting both wagons over though. He then galloped back to hurry the herd up.

We were just about a mile from the river when he came dashing up saying: "Whoop 'em up boys! for she's rising a foot every second."

When we got there she was "bank full" and still rising. It was at least half a mile to the opposite side and drift wood was coming down at a terrible rate, which made it dangerous to cross. But the wagons being over made it a ground hog case—or at least we thought so.

The old lead steers went right into the foaming water without a bit of trouble and of course the balance followed.

Henry Coats was in the lead of the herd, Asa Dawdy and Otto Draub on the left point, while negro "Gabe" and I kept them from turning to the right.

We were all—that is we fellows on the points—out in swimming water when Henry Coats' horse went under, which scared the leaders, causing the whole herd to turn back amidst terrible confusion. Coats came very near drowning. We worked for half an hour or more trying to get the herd to take water again, but failed. The river continued to rise until she was over a mile wide.

Suffice it to say, we remained there seven days without anything to eat except fresh meat without salt. It rained during the whole time nearly, so that we didn't get much sleep on account of having to stay with the cattle night and day.

The first grub we got was from a lot of soldiers camped on the opposite side of the wicked little stream "Wild Horse." They were waiting for it to go down so they could proceed to Wichita, Kansas, their destination.

The boss, Dawdy, a fellow by the name of Hastings and myself found the "blue coats" while out hunting a lot of steers lost the night before during a severe storm. We had spied the white tents off to the southward and pulled out for them, in a gallop.

On arriving within a few hundred yards we found out that a swift stream of muddy water laid between us.

They were camped right on the opposite bank from where we stood. Dawdy yelled over asking if they could spare some chuck? "Yes" was the quick response, "If you will come over after it."

Dawdy and Hastings both looked at me, as much as to say: "Charlie it all depends on you." I was considered an extra good swimmer.

After shedding my heaviest clothes—there being officers' wives in camp, so that I couldn't undress altogether—I put spurs to "Yankee-doodle" and went into her. It was at least two hundred yards across, but I made it all O. K.

When the captain found out how long we had been without grub he ordered the cook to bring out some cold biscuits. He brought out a large pan full, and after I got my fists full, a lot of the soldiers took the balance and selecting a narrow place, threw them over one by one to Dawdy and Hastings.

After hiding a dozen or two fat Government biscuits under my belt, I began studying up a plan by which I could get some flour and salt, also coffee, over. At last I hit upon a plan: I got a wash-tub from the captain's wife and filling it full of such stuff as we needed, launched her out into the water; I swam by the side of it and landed on the opposite side about half a mile below where I started in at. I then took the tub back thanked our benefactors, mounted Yankee-doodle and pulled for the other shore feeling a thousand per cent. better.

We arrived at camp about sundown and the boys went to work baking bread by rolling the dough around a stick and holding it over the fire. Some of them sat up all night eating, trying to make up for lost time.

The sun came out next morning for the first time in eight long days and towards evening we made it across the river. The wagons we found at the "Pond Creek" ranch on the Kansas line. The cooks had been having a soft time.