Our First Night on the Trinity

The live stock were turned out that night to wander as they would. We had no fear of their straying, for since leaving Fort Towson all the animals had been pushed forward at their best pace, and every one was sufficiently weary to remain near at hand.

Before darkness had come we learned that the little chaparral cock was not the only neighbor we were to have in our new home, for there came from the distance what sounded like screams of pain, and sharp, yelping barks. The hair stood up on Gyp's back, and he bared his teeth as if ready for a most desperate struggle, while I took good care to keep him close beside me as I tumbled into the two-mule cart for my rifle, not knowing what danger threatened us.

Then father laughed heartily and told me that the dismal, blood-curdling noises which I heard came from a pack of coyotes, or wolves, howling, perhaps in expectation of getting supper. He predicted that we would soon become accustomed to such disagreeable noises, for there was little doubt but that these beasts would remain our neighbors until we could kill them off, or, at least, make them afraid of venturing near our clearing.

A large part of the goods was thrown out of the wagons that we might spread our beds in comfort, for it was expected that we should live under the canvas coverings until we had built our house; the first work necessary was the setting up of some kind of shanty to serve as a cook room.

That night, however, a fire was built in the open, and over it mother prepared the evening meal while father and I milked the cows. With smoking hot corn bread, fried bacon, bacon fat in which to dip the bread, and plenty of fresh milk, we had such a meal as tired emigrants could fully appreciate.