Old man Ryan, one of the owners of the cattle, was with us that day, and came ahead of the cattle to get some coffee. When he seen I had coffee made, he was very pleased, and told me I was a great boy. But when he went to pour out his coffee, he spied those bones. He asked me what they were, and when I told him he nearly fainted, and would not touch the coffee. But it didn’t affect those hungry cowboys when they got there; they told me I was wonderful, but the old gentleman said I was simply terrible. The old man was a very devout Catholic and said I would surely go to Hell when I died. We would put those cattle in the government corral and an army officer would just look them over and accept them. They didn’t weigh them, but bought them so much a head. After the inspector passed on them, they would call five or six Indians with their rifles. They would get up on the corral fence and shoot every one of them before they touched one. Then the army officer would take so many Indian families to each steer and let them divide it up. There was three tribes there, with a chief at the head of each tribe. I don’t know how many Indians was in each tribe but it looked like about 3,000 Indians—all Siouxs. In about two hours there wouldn’t even be a tail of a steer left. Each family took their portion and went to their different camp grounds. Those three chiefs’ names were Sitting Bull, Rain in the Face, and Gall—the latter two looked like old seasoned warriors, both had been wounded in battle several times. Sitting Bull was a younger man and looked like he had some white blood in his veins. The old time Indians claimed Sitting Bull was not the great warrior that he got credit for and that he did not plan the massacre of General Custer and that Rain in the Face was the great man in that battle. Every time those steers were shot down in the corral, before any beef was divided, Rain in the Face made a speech—I don’t know what it was about, but the roar of applause was terrific. That fall when we got the beef all delivered, we took the saddle horses to Mandan, North Dakota, on the Northern Pacific Railroad and shipped them back to Montana. The cowboys went by passenger train. Those cowboys had been on the Indian reservation all summer and could not get any refreshments, and as they had all their wages they made Mandan a lively town for a Hay and a night. There was about twenty of them, and it was some job getting them cowboys loaded on that train, and after we got started it took the train crew all their time to keep them straight. Them days they heated the chair cars with a coal heating stove. One old cowboy got a raw steak out of the diner, and before the conductor knew it he was cooking it on top of the stove and the car was full of smoke. The conductor took it away from him and throwed it out of the car and gave the old man hell. The old man was very mad and told the conductor he didn’t know nothing, as that was the proper way to cook a steak.