<h2><SPAN name="CHAPTER_X" id="CHAPTER_X"></SPAN>CHAPTER X</h2>
<p class="center">THE OKLAHOMA GRAFTER</p>
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<p class="cap_1">THAT evening at the hotel he asked me
whether I wished to double my money
by selling my relinquishment. "No,"
I answered, "but I tell you what I do
want to do," I replied firmly. "I am not here to
sell; I am here to make good or die trying; I am here
to grow up with this country and prosper with the
growth, if possible. I have a little coin back in old
'Chi.'" (my money was still in the Chicago bank)
"and when these people begin to commute and want
to sell, I am ready to buy another place." I admired
the fellow. He reminded me of "the richest man in
the world" in "The Lion and the Mouse," Otis
Skinner as Colonel Phillippi Bridau, an officer on the
staff of Napoleon's Army in "The Honor of the
Family", and other characters in plays that I greatly
admired, where great courage, strength of character,
and firm decision were displayed. He seemed to
have a commanding way that one found himself
feeling honored and willing to obey.</p>
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<p>But getting back to the homestead. I looked
over my claim and found it just as I had left it the
fall before, excepting that a prairie fire during the
winter had burned the grass. The next morning
I returned to Oristown and announced my intentions
of buying a team. The same day I drew a draft
for five hundred dollars with which to start.</p>
<p>Now if there is anywhere an inexperienced man is
sure to go wrong in starting up on a homestead, it is
in<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</SPAN></span>
buying horses. Most prospective homesteaders
make the same mistake I did in buying horses, unless
they are experienced. The inefficient man reasons
thus: "Well, I will start off economically by buying
a cheap team"—and he usually gets what he
thought he wanted, "a cheap team."</p>
<p>If I had gone into the country and bought a team
of young mares for say three hundred dollars, which
would have been a very high price at that time, I
would have them yet, and the increase would have
kept me fairly well supplied with young horses,
instead of scouting around town looking for something
cheaper, in the "skate" line, as I did. I
looked at so many teams around Oristown that all
of them began to look alike. I am sure I must have
looked at five hundred different horses, more in an
effort to appear as a conservative buyer than to
buy the best team. Finally I ran onto an "Oklahoma"
grafter by the name of Nunemaker.</p>
<p>He was a deceiving and unscrupulous rascal, but
nevertheless possessed a pleasing personality, which
stood him in good in his schemes of deception, and
we became quite chummy. He professed to know
all about horses—no doubt he did, but he didn't
put his knowledge at my disposal in the way I
thought he should, being a friend, as he claimed.
He finally persuaded me to buy a team of big
plugs, one of which was so awkward he looked as
though he would fall down if he tried to trot.
The other was a powerful four-year-old gelding, that
would have never been for sale around Oristown if
it hadn't been that he had two feet badly wire cut.
One was so very large that it must have been quite
burdensome<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</SPAN></span>
for the horse to pick it up, swing it
forward and put it down, as I look back and see
him now in my mind.</p>
<p>When I was paying the man for them I wondered
why Nunemaker led him into the private office of
the bank, but I was not left long in doubt. When
I crossed the street one of the men who had tried
to sell me a team jumped me with: "Well, they got
you, did they?" his voice mingled with sarcasm and
a sneer.</p>
<p>"Got who?" I returned question.</p>
<p>"Does a man have to knock you down to take
a hint?" he went on in a tone of disappointment
and anger. "Don't you know that man Nunemaker
is the biggest grafter in Oristown? I would have
sold you that team of mine for twenty-five dollars
less'n I offered 'em, if the gol-darn grafter hadn't
of come to me'n said, 'give me twenty-five dollars
and I will see that the coon buys the team.' I
would have knocked him down with a club if I'd
had one, the low life bum." He finished with a
snort and off he went.</p>
<p>"Stung, by cracky," was all I could say, and feeling
rather blue I went to the barn where the team
was, stroked them and hoped for the best.</p>
<p>I then bought lumber to build a small house and
barn, an old wagon for twenty dollars, one wheel
of which the blacksmith had forgotten to grease,
worked hard all day getting loaded, and wearied,
sick and discouraged, I started at five o'clock P.M.
to drive the thirty miles to Calias. When I was
out two miles the big old horse was wobbling along
like a broken-legged cow, hobbling, stumbling, and
making<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</SPAN></span>
such a burdensome job of walking, that I
felt like doing something desperate. When I
looked back the wheel that had not been greased
was smoking like a hot box on the Twentieth
Century Limited.</p>
<p>The sun was nearly down and a cold east wind
was whooping it up at about sixty miles an hour,
chilling me to the marrow. The fact that I was a
stranger in a strange land, inhabited wholly by
people not my own race, did not tend to cheer my
gloomy spirits. I decided it might be all right in
July but never in April. I pulled my wagon to the
side of the road, got down and unhitched and
jumped on the young horse, and such a commotion
as he did make. I am quite sure he would have
bucked me off, had it not for his big foot being so
heavy, he couldn't raise it quick enough to leap.
Evidently he had never been ridden. When I got
back to Oristown and put the team in the barn and
warmed up, I resolved to do one thing and do it
that night. I would sell the old horse, and I did,
for twenty-two-fifty. I considered myself lucky,
too. I had paid one hundred and ninety dollars
for the team and harness the day before.</p>
<p>I sat down and wrote Jessie a long letter, telling
her of my troubles and that I was awfully, awfully,
lonesome. There was only one other colored person
in the town, a barber who was married to a white
woman, and I didn't like him.</p>
<p>The next day I hired a horse, started early and
arrived at Calias in good time. At Hedrick I hired
a sod mason, who was also a carpenter, at three
dollars a day and we soon put up a frame barn
large<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</SPAN></span>
enough for three horses; a sod house sixteen
by fourteen with a hip roof made of two by fours for
rafters, and plain boards with tar paper and sod
with the grass turned downward and laid side by
side, the cracks being filled with sand. The house
had two small windows and one door, that was a
little short on account of my getting tired carrying
sod. I ordered the "contractor" to put the roof
on as soon as I felt it was high enough to be
comfortable inside.</p>
<p>The fifth day I moved in. There was no floor,
but the thick, short buffalo grass made a neat carpet.
In one corner I put the bed, while in another I set
the table, the one next the door I placed the stove,
a little two-hole burner gasoline, and in the other
corner I made a bin for the horses grain.</p>
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<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</SPAN></span></p>
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