Chapter I

       Table of Contents

      Public Opinion in Texas—Change in Respect for Law and Order—First Visit—Romance vs. Reality—The Baker Hotel at San Antonio—Treatment of Impecunious Guests — "Seeing the Town" — "Flat Broke"—Engagement with a Ranchman—First Mustang Ride—Deserted at Pleasanton.

      In the following story of those years of my life which were passed on the broad tablelands of western Texas, I have endeavored to set down, plainly and truthfully, events as they actually occurred. I have always given the correct names of places, but in some instances have thought it proper to change the names of persons. During a recent visit to Texas, for the purpose of going over the scenes of the adventures of earlier days, I found a number of highly respected citizens, living exemplary lives, who had formerly been eagerly hunted by the officers of the law. It would be manifestly unfair to give their real names in this history, and so expose them to the criticism of their fellow citizens at this late day. In other instances, however, where the malefactors are notorious, I have not hesitated to use real names.

      In justice to the great state of Texas, I wish to say that the conditions which existed in the period embraced in this narrative have undergone a complete change, and that in no state in the Union is the law more respected than it is in Texas to-day.

      It was in September, 1874, that I first visited Texas. I was eighteen years old, and had only a short time before left the famous New Hampshire school where I had been a pupil for a number of years. My father, a Philadelphia merchant, was very indulgent to me, and I had never been obliged to contribute a penny toward my own support. The reading of books of travel and adventure had roused in me a spirit of unrest, and I wanted to see the world.

      Some copies of The Texas New Yorker, a paper published in the interests of some of the Southwestern railroads, came into my hands, and my mind was inflamed by the highly colored accounts of life in the Lone Star State. I read every word in the papers, and believed all I read. Since then I have learned that Colonel J. Annoy Knox, later of Texas Siftings, was one of the men who wrote the most lurid articles for The Texas New Yorker. I was a callow youth at the time, however, and had never met the genial Colonel. I should know better now than to take him so seriously, but his humor was all sober fact to me then.

      After reading of the wild, free life of the Texas cowboy, I made up my mind that life would not be worth living outside of Texas. In a few years—or was it months?—I had the assurance of Colonel Knox’s paper that, so surely as I went to Texas, I should be a cattle king, the owner of countless herds of beeves and unlimited acres of land. I forget now just how I was going to acquire these without money or experience, but I know the Colonel made it all as plain as daylight to me then. As a “boomer” he was a glorious success.

      About the first of September, then, I told my father that I had decided to try life in Texas, if he would give his permission. I said I knew that a fortune awaited me there, and I wanted to go and get it before someone else gobbled it up. To my vast astonishment, my father gave his consent, but said that if I went I must depend on my own exertions for a living. He suggested that my enthusiasm had obtained the upper hand of my judgment, but said that he would not stand in the way of my following my inclination to try a little outdoor life and shifting for myself. He gave me his blessing and $100.

      I started for Texas at once, my objective point being San Antonio. From there I intended to go farther west and find the site for my cattle ranch. Of course, this sounds ridiculous, but it seemed quite feasible to me at that time. Many and many a young man has gone out into the West with such ideas in his head; just as many and many an immigrant has come to America with the expectation of finding money lying loose in the streets for him to pick up as he pleased.

      At that time the railroad ran only to Austin, the capital of Texas, and about eighty miles from San Antonio. I went from Austin to San Antonio on top of a stagecoach. I had lived well on my journey, and when I came to pay my stage fare I found that my supply of ready money was getting dangerously low. But I had bought a six-shooter and felt that I was a real Texan, which made me happy. When I arrived in San Antonio I had $3.25. I went to the Baker House, a second-class hotel on the main plaza of the quaint old town. I was well dressed, and I had a sole-leather trunk filled with clothing, so, fortunately for me, I was not asked to pay for my board in advance.

      My first week in San Antonio was one of real misery. I knew that I could not pay my hotel bill when it should fall due, but farther than