Life of Tom Horn: Government Scout and Interpreter

Front Cover
For J. C. Coble by the Louthan Book Company, 1904 - Apache Indians - 317 pages
Tom Horn was a government scout, Mexican interpreter, lawman and detective. He left home at 14 and headed west where he worked on the railroad and as a stage coach driver. He learned to speak Mexican and at age 16 he was hired by the U.S. Calvary as an interpreter. On the day before his 43rd birthday he was hanged for murder. This autobiography is a personal account of his exciting life during the Indian wars in pursuit of the Apache chief, Geronimo.
 

Contents

I
17
II
25
III
32
IV
38
V
49
VI
57
VII
63
VIII
73
XIII
125
XIV
134
XV
146
XVI
159
XVII
172
XVIII
184
XIX
195
XX
208

IX
83
X
94
XI
103
XII
114

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Page 309 - Life is like a mountain railroad With an engineer that's brave; We must make the run successful, From the cradle to the grave. Watch the curves, the fills, the tunnels; Never falter, never quail; Keep your hand upon the throttle, And your eye upon the rail.
Page 249 - EARLY IN APRIL of 1887, some of the boys came down from the Pleasant Valley, where there was a big rustler war going on and the rustlers were getting the best of the game. I was tired of the mine and willing to go, and so away we went. Things were in a pretty bad condition. It was war to the knife between cowboys and rustlers, and there was a battle every time the two outfits ran together.
Page 309 - Life is like a mountain railroad. With an engineer that's brave; We must make the run successful, From the cradle to the grave; Watch the curves, the fills, the tunnels; Never falter, never quail; Keep your hand upon the throttle. And your eye upon the rail.
Page 309 - Keep your hand upon the throttle, And your eye upon the rail. "As you roll across the trestle, Spanning Jordan's swelling tide, You behold the Union Depot, Into which your train will glide. There you'll meet the Superintendent, God the Father, God the Son, With the hearty, joyous plaudit, 'Weary pilgrim, welcome home.
Page 309 - You will roll up grades of trial; You will cross the bridge of strife; See that Christ is your conductor On this lightning train of life; Always mindful of obstruction.
Page 231 - Then, too, the renegades all began to think more of me because I had headed off the scouts and would not let them kill any more women and children; and, taking it altogether, I was getting to be a great man in my own estimation! * * * [Personal Recollections of General Miles: On page 471, Captain Maus, in his account, says: "I can not commend too highly Mr.
Page 259 - The Killing of the Captain,' by John Heard, ST., published some months ago in the Cosmopolitan Magazine." [Horn's narrative is now resumed.] In the winter I again went home, and in the following spring I went to work on my mine. Worked along pretty steady on it for a year, and in 1890 we sold it to a party of New Yorkers. We got $8,000 for it. We were negotiating for this sale, and at the same time the Pinkerton National Detective Agency at Denver, Colorado, was writing to me to get me to come to...
Page 51 - Geronimo got up out of a crowd of Indians and came over and shook hands with Sieber, and for the first time in my life I saw this man of whom I had heard so much from both Indians and white men. Certainly a grand-looking war chief he was that morning as he stood there talking to Sieber; six feet high and magnificently proportioned, and his motions as easy and graceful as a panther's. He had an intelligent-looking face, but when he turned and looked at a person, his eyes were so sharp and piercing...
Page 23 - Shed" died and he was pretty badly done up himself. Dad was called the hardest man to whip in northwest Missouri, but when he came home that night he looked to me like a man who had had at least what I would have called enough. I was about fourteen years old by this time and I wanted to go somewhere. I had heard of California and thought that would be a good place to go. Dad and I had a disagreement one day and he had the trace of a single buggy harness in his hand, and he struck at me with it. I...
Page 313 - Now, I wish to state that during the time of three or four years he was around me, and with me, I never once saw him under the influence of liquor. The most he ever drank was a glass of beer when out with a gang of the boys. And knowing him, as I do, and taking all into consideration, I can not, and will not, ever believe that Tom Horn was the man the papers tried to make the world believe he was.

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