There was a shortage of good ox drivers that spring and Captain “Jim Crow” found it difficult to supply the number he needed. Twenty-five dollars a month “and found” were the wages. One evening, while we were lounging around the corral, waiting for supper, three men came up on foot, inquiring for the captain of the train. They were good looking, well dressed men, two of them wearing silk hats, but bearing no resemblance to the ordinary ox driver. They said they were stranded and looking for work. They proposed to Captain Chiles to hire to him for drivers, while they disclaimed any knowledge of the calling. [Illustration: “JIM CROW” CHILES LAUGHED.] “Jim Crow” laughed, and after interrogating them as to their antecedents, said he would hire them on probation. “I will take you along,” he said, “and if I find you can learn to drive cattle before we get to Council Grove, the last settlement on the road, then I’ll keep you; otherwise not, and you must look out for yourselves.” They were invited to supper and assigned to a mess. One of them was named Whitcom. He hailed from Massachusetts and had never seen a yoke of oxen in his life, but he was strong, sturdy and active, and before we reached New Mexico he was rated the most dextrous driver in the outfit. Moreover, his team looked better than any in the train when we reached the end of our journey. Ten years ago Whitcom was living in Cheyenne, and was one of the wealthiest cattle raisers in the state of Wyoming. Another of the three hailed from Cincinnati. He wore a threadbare suit of broadcloth and a “plug” hat, and was tall, angular, awkward, slip-shod and slouchy in appearance. He had been employed in his father’s banking house in Cincinnati, and was accomplished in penmanship and a good accountant; but he proved to be utterly unfit for an ox driver. He could not hold his own among his rough companions, and became the object of their jeers and derision. By unanimous consent he was given the name of “Skeesicks,” and by this name he was known ever afterwards. The third of the trio proved to be a fairly good driver, and is now a prosperous merchant in the state of Montana. Among the drivers was a young Mexican, Juan, who had been in the employ of the Chiles brothers for years. Through him we were enabled to converse with the Kiowas and Comanches when we reached them. Many of the Indians could speak or understand Spanish, but could not understand a word of English. We had men among the teamsters from Tennessee, Kentucky, Arkansas and Texas. They soon became known and answered to the name of their own state. “Tennessee” and “Texas” prided themselves on the size and weight of their whips, and the loudness of the noise they could make in popping them.