He laboriously drew
upon it and made E-O which of course destroyed the former brand.
"Then here," he continued, as he drew 13, "all ye've got ter do is
this--313." I gasped in amazement, not at his cleverness as a
brand-destroyer, but at his honest abandon. With a horrible operatic
laugh, such as is painted in "The Cossack's Answer," he again
laboriously drew (+) (the circle cross), and then added some marks which
made it look like this: S(+)S. And again breaking into his devil's "ha,
ha!" said, "Make the damned thing whirl."
I did not protest. He would have shot me for that. But I did wish he was
living in the northwest quarter of New Mexico, where Mr. Cooper and Dan
could throw their eyes over the trail of his pony. Of course each man
has adjusted himself to this lawless rustling, and only calculates that
he can steal as much as his opponent. It is rarely that their affairs
are brought to court, but when they are, the men come _en masse_ to the
room, armed with knives and rifles, so that any decision is bound to be
a compromise, or it will bring on a general engagement.
There is also a noticeable absence of negroes among them, as they still
retain some _ante bellum_ theories, and it is only very lately that they
have "reconstructed." Their general ignorance is "miraculous," and quite
mystifying to an outside man. Some whom I met did not even know where
the Texas was which furnishes them their ponies.
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