Editor Free Press:
I will endeavor to give you a brief sketch of the ups and
downs of the fishing party, composed of R.
B. Miller, R. F. Miller, Byron Glasscock,
Oscar Martin, Walter Johnson and ye scribe,
who went down on the Clear Fork on Tuesday,
the 21st, to try their luck.
We started from Haskell about 9 a.m. and traveled without incident
until we reached the M O pasture where we
ran across three antelope, upon which R. F.
Miller, Glasscock and Martin commenced a
regular fusilade with their winchesters
which seemed to astonish the antelope who
looked as if they thought it was only a
harmless thunderbolt, or discharge of
fire-arms on a joyful occasion, and after
looking at the boys until their curiosity
seemed satisfied, they turned and ran off,
pursued by Miller, Glasscock and Martin who
chased one of the poor creatures over rough
rocky canyons until the poor thing broke two
of its legs, when R. B. Miller unhitched one
of the horses from the wagon and ran it to
death and brought it to the wagon. Query:
who deserves the credit of killing the
antelope?
We soon struck camp, lighted a fire and it was not long before the
sweet flavor of fried antelope was floating
away on the evening breeze, tempting our
already sharpened appetites.
After supper we were lounging around the
camp fire stretched in extenso on our
beds contemplating the star studded
firmament and vieing with each other in
telling hunting and fishing stories, when
Miller, the dislocated Oklahoma boomer,
began telling the most horrifying snake
stories we ever listened to, which caused us
all to draw close together near to the
speaker and listen with suppressed awe until
the tale was finished, when some one
suggested that in as much as we had come
prepared for snakes, that it would be a good
idea to put ourselves in shape to receive
all bites without harm. which met with
unanimous approval and after the remedy had
passed around several times, all fear of
snakes vanished from our minds and we all
went to sleep laughing in our sleeves,
thinking how easily we had circumvented the
venomous reptiles. Before going
to bed I placed the jug containing the
medicine close to my bed and laid down with
my face toward the north star and my mind
fixed on futurity, dropped off to sleep to
wake no more until just at day-break I was
aroused by a noise near my bed, and opening
my eyes I saw Walter Johnson and R. F.
Miller making off with the jug and I saw it
no more. Wednesday passed in
catching fish and killing squirrels and just
before supper R. A. Mason and S. W. Scott
arrived with a fresh supply of medicine and
a bag full of biscuits which Mr. Mason said
had been cooked by a certain young lady whom
S. W. S. and O. M. are very badly smitten,
and at supper they vied with each other to
see which could eat the greater number of
biscuits and succeeded in making it a tie
for when the last biscuit had been devoured,
they both looked like stuffed toads and
during the night, their minds were still on
the biscuits and the voice of Scott, echoed
by Martin, could be heard in doleful tones
using the words of the Psalmist: "Oh
Lord! thou hast flagelated me with biscuits;
now comfort me with paragoric for I am sick
at love"
But notwithstanding the overdose of
biscuits, they awoke next morning
looking sadder but were wise men.
We passed Thursday morning in fishing and hunting and the evening
in seining, i.e. making water hauls
with the sein, which required as much work
as if we were catching fish by the carload.
After working with the seine several hours
and being tired out, we drew it ashore and
ate supper. After supper while
most of us were lying beneath the tall pecan
trees on the banks of that pure and limpid
stream known as the Clear Fork of the Brazos
river, just between daylight and dark, an
apparition appeared before us. It was
clad in a single garment with a pair of
shoes on and one sleeve torn off at the
shoulder and was the most woebegone looking
creature on God's earth. It stood for
a moment before us then disappeared.
It was the opinion of us all that it was the
Ghost of some forlorn editor.
We were so frightened at this ghastly
appearance that we pulled our freight the
next morning to that future great city of
Haskell where we all arrived all O.K. Friday
evening.
H. R. |