I gave them permission to take the fallen hides,
and in return received many kindnesses where a few days before I had
been confronted by shotguns. This was my first experience with Texas
fever, and the lessons that I learned then and afterward make me
skeptical of all theories regarding the transmission of the germ.
The story of the loss of my Colorado herd is a ghastly one. This fever
is sometimes called splenic, and in the present case, where animals
lingered a week or ten days, while yet alive, their skins frequently
cracked along the spine until one could have laid two fingers in the
opening. The whole herd was stricken, less than half a dozen animals
escaping attack, scores dying within three days, the majority
lingering a week or more. In spite of our every effort to save them,
as many as one hundred died in a single day. I stayed with them for
six weeks, or until the fever had run through the herd, spent my last
available dollar in an effort to save the dumb beasts, and, having my
hopes frustrated, sold the remnant of twenty-six head for five dollars
apiece. I question if they were worth the money, as three fourths of
them were fever-burnt and would barely survive a winter, the only
animals of value being some half dozen which had escaped the general
plague. I gave each of my men two horses apiece, and divided my money
with them, and they started back to Colorado, while I turned homeward
a wiser but poorer man.
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