Humboldt County High School - Winnada Yearbook (Winnemucca, NV)

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On the second morning they were working their way along the edge of a large clump of mahogany. After a few minutes of working, Big Ike noticed the flitting forms of Indians, worming in and out among the trees. Upon a careful scrutiny out of the corner of his eye, Ike noticed that the Indians were all heavily armed, and that they peered unceasingly in the direction of the fence builders. Under the pretense of inspecting the work, Ike warned the punchers of the danger and told them that if any of them didn’t want to take the risk they could return to the chuck wagon. All of them, however, expressed their desire to stay to the end. After an hour or so Black Hawk, the big Indian chief, came out of the trees and showed his desire to speak with the white boss. As soon as all of the punchers had crowded around, Black Hawk said: This Indian hunting ground. No wantum white man makum fence!” Big Ike told the chief that white man had permit from big boss in Washington. Black Hawk scowled and said: Indian no likum big boss permit; white man take all Indian hunting ground; make Indian hungry, white man better stop makum fence.” With this the Indian stalked off into the trees. The Bar O waddies went right on with their fence building. Shortly after the boys had eaten their lunch and resumed work, a warning shot from the woods bored a hole in Easy’s hat, and another imbedded itself in the wagon seat just below Big Ike. The cowboys were forced to return to camp for they had not brought their guns along to fix the fence. On the following morning the Bar O force went back to fence building, this time with their guns tied down, and rifles near at hand; all except Easy who just shoved his gun into his holster and left his rifle in the wagon. Before the sun was up the Indians gave their last warning by shooting the team pulling the wagon. Someone made the mistake of firing a hasty shot at one of the shadow forms among the trees. For his pains he received a bullet in the fleshy part of his leg. The flighty punchers would not stand for this, so in reply they sent a rally of shots into the trees which drew several loud grunts and a return fire. The fight was on. The punchers hadn’t a chance in the open so they made a run for their horses and beat a hasty retreat down the hillside. Fifty heavily armed Indians charged after them, venting their skill and shrill war cries as they rode. A stray shot hit John in the shoulder, knocking him from his horse. Hall and Harvey who were behind him, hastily left their horses and lifted him onto his horse amid his protests that they should go and let him die. A few yards from the cowpuchers stood an old mine which they entered. There they found the cook with two butcher knives and a large ladle. The Indians who were close upon them dropped behind nearby trees and continued fire. A slug ricocheted off the side of the tunnel and striking Sam along side of the head putting him out of the play; another hit Bill in the side. Big Ike received a broken wrist, thus leaving the Bar O in a sad plight. All of a sudden Easy, who had not been participating in the fight, grunted and reached in his pocket, drawing out his shattered knife, which had saved him a broken leg. With a cry of rage Easy bounded out of the tunnel and down the dump, firing as he went. The other boys, fearing that he would be killed, rushed after him, calling to him to come back. When the Indians saw the huge man lunging down the dump, killing one of their men at every shot, they became uneasy. When they saw the rest of the Bar O rushing after Easy, yelling madly, the Indians fled over the hill, leaving their ponies and twelve dead behind them. When the rest of the boys caught up with and quieted Easy they looked at him with astonishment written on their faces, as Easy explained with a foolish grin: The dern Redskins broke my knife.”

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GQOqi n A Easy Gets Sore By James Gayer THE long lanky form of Easy was doubled up in the wood box. He was sharpening his beloved knife, as was his favorite pastime. Easy well fitted his name. The rest of the Bar O waddies had been trying to make him angry for two years but had never succeeded. Whatever was said Easy took it with a broad grin. All of the boys liked Easy but anyone of them would have gladly taken a beating or would have lost a month’s pay to see him fight. Big Jake, the owner of the Bar O, bellowed: Come on, Easy, we’re ready to go.” Easy stalked out of the bunk house, climbed leisurely on his sleepy roan horse. By the time Easy had squared himself around in the saddle the other boys were through the gate. Easy put his horse to a trot, and was soon riding beside the lumbering mess wagon. The whole Bar O crew was headed for Canyon Creek to fence in six thousand acres grazing land. Big Ike had secured a forty-year grazing permit on this territory. Canyon Creek was a hunting ground for the Indians. There were seventeen springs around which lived innumerable sagehens. The springs ran together, forming a creek in which big native trout throve. The banks of the creek were lined with cottonwoods, furnishing an ideal camping ground and plenty of fuel. The uppermost part of the slopes were covered with scrub mahogany, which was thickly populated with deer and quail, an Indian’s paradise. As the canyon was twenty-four miles from the home ranch, it took the greater part of the day to reach the desired spot, pitch camp, and eat the meal prepared by Sing, the Chinese cook. Right after chuck the boys sat around the fire, talking and joking about the work all cow punchers hate, that of making fence. Not long after sundown, three Indians came to their camp with fish, venison, and sagehen, to trade for sugar, bacon, coffee, or tobacco. The immobile faces of the Indians showed nothing but friendliness. However, they bent sidelong glances at the wagons loaded with axes, picks, shovels, post-hole diggers, and barbed wire. After some trading had been done the Indians took their silent leave and the tired cowboys rolled into their blankets. Shortly before sunrise the next morning everyone was rudely awakened by the cook, who was drumming on the dishpan with a iarge spoon. The aroma of coffee and bacon assailed the nostrils of the men as they dressed hastily in the crisp mountain air. After washing their faces in cold spring water they ate ravenously of bacon, eggs, and hot cakes. After eating, all of the men except Sing, set out to build fence. It would take nearly three months to fence in the six thousand acres of land. Big Ike assigned the work to different men; Easy, Sam, Long, a short, dark puncher; Bill Black, a tall, lanky fellow; and John Sims, a big blond rannie, were to dig post-holes, the hardest and most disliked part of the work. Hall Johnson, the big Swede, Bing Jones, a fat flunky, and Harvey Smith were to stretch wire; Jack Caldwell, a tenderfoot, was put to driving staples; and Big Ike himself was to drive the wagon and to help otherwise when needed. The first day they all cursed and swore a great deal for they weren’t used to that kind of labor. Bing puffed and blew so hard, and Johnson grunted so much that between the two it sounded like a hungry managerie. That night they found that they had done more work than they had expected. All hands laughed and joked in the anticipation of finishing quite soon. N lii ■ I fQmQ 1111 11111 111n mu 1=E r ■: : ■: :■ t t 1.......... |7TTr ttttt I ■ ill—ITiTI hit [ IT w Page 24

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= ca n; PDtJPlJppa: Pioneers By Jack St. Clair IS The pioneers were husky, Braved many dangers, too; The Indian bands were many, The pioneers were few. At every turn was hardship, Hunger and thirst prevailed. Daunted by nothing were they, Their courage never failed. Such men could but create A land where freedom reigns, A land of courageous souls, No hand of wealth restrains. jpODH st«...