. Philip of Texas; a story of sheep raising in Texas. ly be bunched. Oxen will becomewilder through fear of a norther than they can bemade through the shrieking and yelling of Indians whoare trying to stampede them. ON THE TRAIL ONCE MORE On the second morning after our arrival at FortTowson we set off once more, father and mother lead-ing the way in mule cart, and I followingbehind the three wagons, while John and Zeba broughtup the rear with the cattle, which, having had a welcomerest at the fort, were now traveling at a reasonablyrapid pace, so fast, in fact, that Gyp and I had to
. Philip of Texas; a story of sheep raising in Texas. ly be bunched. Oxen will becomewilder through fear of a norther than they can bemade through the shrieking and yelling of Indians whoare trying to stampede them. ON THE TRAIL ONCE MORE On the second morning after our arrival at FortTowson we set off once more, father and mother lead-ing the way in mule cart, and I followingbehind the three wagons, while John and Zeba broughtup the rear with the cattle, which, having had a welcomerest at the fort, were now traveling at a reasonablyrapid pace, so fast, in fact, that Gyp and I had to urgethe sheep along at their best speed lest we be overrun. Before the end of the first days journey, so fathersaid, we should cross the border line of the repubHcand be in Texas. 52 PHILIP OF TEXAS The way Jed through uninteresting country, fairlycovered with woodland. About noon, we came uponquite an extensive clearing, where some settler hadestablished himself and his family. Father left uslong enough to ride up to the rude little cabin, at some. distance back from the trail. When he returned hesaid that this was a cotton plantation owned by somemixed-blood Choctaws who had settled here a few yearsbefore. CROSSING THE RED RIVER They told father that we should soon reach the RedRiver, but that we would have no special difficultyin making the crossing, for there was a small ferry atthe river owned and operated by an Indian. CROSSING THE RED RIVER 53 Early in the afternoon we came to the river. Wecould see the ferry moored to the farther side of thestream, but there was no Indian anywhere called and I shouted; Zeba astonished us allby the shrill whistle which he made with his G}np seemed to appreciate our predicament, forhe ran up and down the river bank barking louderthan he ever did before. When all this noise failed to arouse the ferryman,I began to despair of our ever getting across the riverbefore night came on. Father, however, seemed tothink that
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Keywords: ., bookcentury1900, bookdecade1910, booksubjectfrontierandpioneerli
