rnoon of the
second day's dry drive, but we finally scaled the last divide, and
there, below us in the valley of the South Platte, nestled Ogalalla,
the Gomorrah of the cattle trail. From amongst its half hundred
buildings, no church spire pointed upward, but instead three fourths
of its business houses were dance halls, gambling houses, and saloons.
We all knew the town by reputation, while the larger part of our
outfit had been in it before. It was there that Joel Collins and his
outfit rendezvoused when they robbed the Union Pacific train in
October, '77. Collins had driven a herd of cattle for his father and
brother, and after selling them in the Black Hills, gambled away the
proceeds. Some five or six of his outfit returned to Ogalalla with
him, and being moneyless, concluded to recoup their losses at the
expense of the railway company. Going eighteen miles up the river to
Big Springs, seven of them robbed the express and passengers, the
former yielding sixty thousand dollars in gold. The next morning they
were in Ogalalla, paying debts, and getting their horses shod. In
Collins's outfit was Sam Bass, and under his leadership, until he met
his death the following spring at the hands of Texas Rangers, the
course of the outfit southward was marked by a series of daring bank
and train robberies.

We reached the river late that evening, and after watering, grazed
until dark and camped for the night. But it was not to be a night of
rest and sleep, for the lights were twinkling across the river in
town; and cook, horse wrangler, and all, with the exception of the
first guard, rode across the river after the herd had been bedded.
Flood had quit us while we were watering the herd and gone in ahead to
get a draft cashed, for he was as moneyless as the rest of us. But his
letter of credit was good anywhere on the trail where money was to be
had, and on reaching town, he took us into a general outfitting store
and paid us twenty-five dollars apiece. After warning us to be on hand
at the wagon to stand our watches, he left us, and we scattered like
lost sheep. Officer and I paid our loans to The Rebel, and the three
of us wandered around for several hours in company with Nat Straw.
When we were in Dodge, my bunkie had shown no inclination to gamble,
but now he was the first one to suggest that we make up a "cow," and
let him try his luck at monte. Straw and Officer were both willing,
and though in rags, I willingly consented