volume one IN THE D U D L E Y C L A R K - Ohio Vine Tours

From Ft. Belknap, on their journey’s
first leg, they made a mere five miles.
Charley Goodnight—Tejano, as the Apache called him—turned out to be
a wise soul all of thirty years old, whose knowledge of the land and the beasts
he drove, and of the men who rode with him, was remarkable and deep.
He taught his men—those who were green or tender—that the stampede
was especially to be guarded against during the first ten days on the trail.
It could amount to several weeks before the animals were satisfactorily trail
broke. Hence, all men were instructed to sleep—when sleep was possible—
on the ground in their sougans with their horses staked nearby. It was not
unusual for a cowboy, during this breaking-in period, or whenever the threat
of stampede seemed imminent, to keep his boots on for weeks at a time, and
to sleep no more than two hours out of twenty-four.
“A stampedin’ herd is hard to fathom,” Goodnight explained around the
fire to his hands, on their first night out. “Once it starts to run, it becomes
almost chronic. An’ even though th’ herd might run itself to exhaustion,
their nervous tension doesn’t subside there. Night after night, they have
been known to take fright at somethin’. I seen three thousand steers dozin’
in peace—only a few restless old fellows on their feet—with th’ night riders
circling ’round ’em at an easy gait. Then—somethin’ happens. Lord
knows what. An’ them animals are up on their feet with unbelievable
suddenness—as quick as the flash of a wakeful eye, unexpected as the flush
of a covey of hidden quail—an’ with an ungodly roar of hoofbeats, an’ the
distinct quaking of the earth, they will be up together in a second—an’ be
gone. Whereas, an instant ago they slept in peace, scattered an’ headed
to every point of the compass, now they’re on their feet, headed in th’ same
direction, in th’ pitch of night, a wall of beef that will flatten a man until he
is indistinguishable from th’ earth itself.”
Throughout Charley Goodnight’s speech—one that he had oft repeated—
his partner, Oliver Loving, an older man, seemed to draw into himself, and
remained mute, happy to reside on the sidelines.
ROY ROGERS IN THE 21ST CENTURY 2