to the passengers in the overland stages at two dollars per meal. This would seem high, but flour cost twenty-five dollars for a fifty-pound bag, and other necessaries were equally high. I remember the battle with the Indians nine miles west of the fort, near Ackerly's ranch. Two women were brought to the fort and placed in the hospital tent, where they were cared for. It was said one woman was scalped, and whether they lived or died I cannot say, but the reports of the hospital would show. I remember that one morning, about ten o'clock, the Indians made a great dash through the grounds of the fort, below on the Platte river; and for a time all was excitement with rumors that the fort was attacked.

New rules were made at the fort that no private business should be carried on within the four-miles limit; therefore old Sam Watt, myself and others had to go. The reason for this was that Adams, Green & Co. became the sutlers at the fort. That was in the summer of 1866. While at the fort I built a ranch on the main road to Fort Laramie, twenty-two miles up Lodgepole Creek. This ranch was on the west side of the valley and close to a dry creek, that in the spring used to fill up and become a large stream. It drained a large valley directly back of my ranch in a northwesterly direction and nearly at right angles to Lodgepole Creek valley. Here the history of my settlement, or intended settlement in Nebraska begins. By some my ranch was called "Farrell's Ranch" and by others the "Twenty-two Mile Ranch". Most of the time at the ranch life was monotonous; then, again, wagon trains used to stop there and make things quite lively. This section of your state at that time had few ranchmen and no settlers. In the first place, the Indians would make it too uncomfortable for anyone who tried to make a home there, as the Cheyenne wanted it for their hunting grounds, and it was pretty good for that use at that time. They had to go only

ten miles east or west to find plenty of antelopes and buffaloes. Farther northeast[?], toward Cheyenne, in the timber section, there were deer and moose. At the ranch we had no trouble in getting antelopes, as they used to show themselves on the bluffs on either side of the valley.

One afternoon, about the last of August, 1866, I was riding on an Indian pony from my ranch to Julesburg. At a point about nine miles from Julesburg, as it was getting dark, I was traveling south, the creek at my left and the bluffs at my right, when suddenly my pony's head turned west toward the bluffs and his ears shot backward and forward very excitedly. He kept this up for quite a while and then began to increase his speed and tried to leave the road, making toward the bluffs. I looked in the direction that he was trying to go and saw what I thought was a band of Indians looming up on the crest of the bluff and riding parallel to my course, in the same direction. It seemed to me a race for life, and I desperately dug the spurs into the pony's flanks. I had a great struggle to keep him on the road. He seemed to want to go to the Indians, as I supposed because he was a real Indian pony. Soon my Indians left the bluffs and were heading me off, still gaining on me and getting closer to the road. I had hoped to beat them, but it was of no use. I then began to think of turning back as there seemed to be about a mile between us; just at this time they had reached the road and were crossing it and to my great relief and astonishment I discovered they were a herd of antelopes going down to the creek to water. I was almost paralyzed from excitement and exhaustion.

There were three ranches between Julesburg and the divide the point where the road left Lodgepole Creek and turned north toward the Platte or Mud Springs; there was one ranch at Mud Springs. The first ranch was twelve miles from Julesburg. It was a temporary affair, made of

lumber, and did not last long. I cannot recall the ranchman's name. My ranch was next, twenty-two miles from Julesburg; the next fifteen miles farther on, and Mud Springs was next to that. The ranch next beyond mine was kept by a Frenchman named Louis Rouillet (?) and Jim Pringle. They did a very large business. They afterward left the ranch and moved to Sidney Station, on the Union Pacific railroad, situated a few miles up the valley. The ranch at Mud Springs was kept by a man named James McArdle, who did a very good business. The last time I saw him he was starting for Texas.

My ranch was built of sod. It was about 15x18 feet, and the walls were three feet thick. It had a rear and a front door and three windows, one on either side of the front door and the other on the south side, looking down the road. These windows were built like portholes, bevelled off on two sides and bottom, and each had two small panes of glass. I had heavy double battened doors, and the roof was of sod laid on poles. I began an addition to the ranch house, in the rear, which I never finished, but used it as a stable for my mules and ponies. On my way from California, twenty-four years ago, from the car windows I saw the walls of the ranch still standing. My two brothers lived with me at the ranch. I had quite a number of men working for me from time to and cutting wood in winter. I remember that the names of four of them were, Dickenson, Wiley, Tibbets, and Walden, but always called "blueskin". He was about sixty-five years of age. He drove a stage to and from Chillicothe, Ohio, before there were any railroads at that town. Tobacco juice was always running down his protruding chin. He was a peculiar character and chewed and swore by note. I also had a colored man, Dick Turner, who was very faithful and trustworthy. He went west

time, making hay in summer

with Captain Greene to Fort Laramie and was on his way back to the states when I got him.

In the summer of 1866 I cut and put up about twenty tons of hay. It was not of a very good quality. Some of it I used myself and some of it I sold, but most of it was overrun by freighters' cattle in the storms of the winter of 1866-67; some of the wagon masters would pay me a little for the hay they took and others nothing. There was an officer at the fort who, while he was supposed to be giving all his time to the government, did a little private business with a cattle train. I will not mention his name. His cattle not only used my hay in a big storm, in March, 1867, but destroyed what might have been used by myself; his wagon master gave me a receipt for the hay, but the gallant officer refused to pay. I brought suit in Julesburg, catching him over from the fort with his light wagon and tried to put a lien on it, but the lawyers discovered that there was no jurisdiction in such cases in that part of the territory, so I lost the claim. I mention this to show what law-abiding citizens there were in those good old days. In 1867 I cut and put up about fifty tons of hay and put it in two ricks, one of thirty, and the other of twenty tons. The larger rick was burned.

In the summer of 1867, the men were making hay on the west side of the creek when the Indians made a dash down on them, but as the Indians had been seen before they left the bluffs and were delayed by high water in the creek, the men got away safely.

Another day Dick, the colored man, was down fishing and before he discovered them the Indians were almost upon him, but on the other side of the creek. He ran so fast to the ranch that he dropped at the door and could hardly speak. Dick's steel trap down at the creek caught an otter by the hind leg and he would not be led or driven.

Every time Dick pulled him the otter made a dive for Dick and they kept up the game until they got to the ranch, and it seemed as though Dick was the worst used up of the two.

We caught a coyote in the trap, and we thought we could tame him. We had made a house for him, but after keeping him several months we found he was just as wild as the day we caught him, so let him go. I got up one morning, early, as we had been annoyed all night by coyotes; we thought there were about a thousand of them, but, to our surprise, I found only two or three. I shot at them with my old musket, wounding one of them so badly that he had to drag his hind legs after him. He started to run up the cañon, and, thinking that a blow of the gun would kill him, I followed him nearly a mile as fast as I could run when he stopped and faced around to fight me. I was so exhausted that I could not raise my gun, so I made up my mind to let him go.

I was attacked several times by the Indians, usually very early in the morning. According to the New York Herald "the Farrell Ranch was burned and they were killed and scalped". I came very near being killed one day while alone at the ranch. A half dozen Cheyenne, led by Chief White Eye, marched in without ceremony. They were somewhat friendly at first. The chief sat on the counter near a show case and demanded sugar and coffee and a silk handkerchief and other trinkets, and I got a pair of moccasins in exchange. The others wanted whisky. I had a loaded gun outside the counter, and one of the Indians picked it up and pointed it at me; but I lifted the lid of the counter and went out and took the gun from him, which made him very angry. Another of them caught a mouse and brought it over and put it under my nose, ordering me in broken English to eat it. By this time they were getting very ugly and demanded whisky. Two of