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time ago. When I see my old comrades in town, bent with the weight of three-score and ten, I am reminded that my time to quit the walks of men is fast approaching, just a few years more at best, and we will all join the silent majority.
Here are my credentials : "I I solemnly swear and affirm" that I went the length of the trail up to Dodge City, Kansas, and from there to Pueblo, Colorado. "I further solemnly swear and affirm" that I will tell "not" all I saw and heard. Who would? It's a long time back —to remember ; and if you remember, would you care to tell? If you cared to tell, would you dare to tell, And if you dared to tell you'd be afraid ; and if you weren't afraid, you'd be "skeered" as Helmar Jenkins Booth.
My credentials further state that I was born when quite young, in 1863, at a little "jumping-off-in-the-road" place called Quihi, Medina County, Texas, on what was then known as the old John Heven place. We moved later to Sturm (meaning "storm") Hill, where I spent most of my childhood days.
Father was a stock raiser, and also took cattle on shares attending to the handling and care of them on the open range. My sister and I were sent to school in an old school house near by, on the Klappenbach ranch, to be "edjicated."
As children we were warned and taught to be on the lookout for Indians. We were told wild and weird stories of massacres and how Indians would steal children and torture them ; and which was not a "fairy story," but a fact. We were on our way home one evening after school when we saw in the distance a band of Indians coming in our direction. It took us but a moment to hide in a