ornery and hated to cook outside, so he headed for a nearby shack. A pack rat had already taken up residence.
 Joe Wright and his daughters, Jenny and Laura, had come in. Joe was deathly scared of pack rats. He had a big knife with which to kill the rat if it came near him. There was a thick block of wood used for a stool, that had a pan of water sitting on it. Another guy with a stick of wood was chasing the rat and Joe was keeping his distance. As the fellow went by the 'stool' his spur hooked on it knocking the stool and pan of water over, which hit the rat killing it. All bedlam broke loose when he threw the rat over in Joe's direction!!

ADVENTURES OF COWPUNCHING
by Con Anderson

   By the summer of 1915, homesteaders had taken up nearly all of the land north to the tiver some 30 miles from Roy and east to the Musselshell River. Much of these lands were in the river breaks which were hills or deep coulees. To understand how rough these lands were, remember that the Missouri River here eroded soil down over 900 feet. The creeks and coulees were eroded down in like manner. By this time, the Government had allowed 640 acres as homestead lands.
   I had great dreams of owning many cattle and using much of this land. In the spring of 1915 this area was open for claims which permitted a homesteader to be away from his claim six months of the year. This way he could work for others and make a "Grub Stake" to buy necessities.
   In 1914 a Mr. Brockway and Mr. Vaughn (horse outfit) took 500 head of their horses south of the river and grazed them on unfenced lands in the Indian Butte country about five miles from the river. These horses were in the charge of Joe Searles. Indian Butte was a higher point of land on one of the ridges running to Armells Creek where an Indian war was fought in the earlier days. In the cattle round up days of the 1880's and 90's, every higher point of ground was given a name as were the creek crossings, such as Haystack Butte, Lookout Mountain, Button Butte, Chain Buttes, Three Princesses, Cottonwood Crossing, and so on. Naming these points was necessary for rounding up cattle.
   Many horses and cattle were really wild and some traveled or grazed in groups and were called wilds bunches. One day, Joe Searles, wishing to know if some of his horses had gotten into a wild bunch, asked me to help him ride. He selected two of his best and fastest saddle horses. We located the wild bunch near Indian Butte. When the wild bunch saw us we were still a mile away and they went east at a wild run. We took after them and did not overtake them until we reached Button Butte some 12 or 15 miles to the east. This ride was in very rough terrain with sagebrush and cut coulees up hill and down. What a ride!! Exciting--yes, perhaps more so than the horse or car races of today.
   An incident I enjoy remembering took place in the fall of 1914, when the King cattle were taken to Walter Haney's ranch near the Judith Mountains. One special cow could not be found. Later Henry King located her with a wild bunch of cattle and had me help take her to Mr. Haney. I had a well broke saddle horse, but Henry was riding a young horse which had been ridden only twice before. We caught up to this bunch after a mile of riding, then we cut out this cow along with two others, and started for the town of Roy some twenty five-miles away. We rode fast before these cows were slowed down to a walking gait. The King cow soon began to show signs of anger. When we reached Crooked Creek, the cows went into a shallow pool of water which was under a cutbank about 15 feet high. We could not drive them out because of the fighting attitude of the cows so we rode to where we could pick up some rocks to throw at them. We were on the top of the creek bank where Henry could not throw these rocks from his horse, so he got off his horse. This cow had tried several times to climb this steep cutbank, each time falling back, so Henry thought he was safe afoot. The cow tried again and it seemed that this time she would succeed. Henry started running across the prairie as fast as he could. I rode after him laughing. Henry said, "She could never have caught me!"
   We finally got these cows to moving again and as we came near Roy where more people were located, their fenced lands provided lanes for roads to be built. While driving up the first lane, we came to a homesteader's cabin; their gate was open, and our wild cow went through it. A young boy seeing the cow came out carrying a broom to drive her back. He just got back in the house before the cow could hit him.
   Next we came to Box Elder Creek where there was a large county bridge. There was a lot of high brush on the north side where the cows stopped. This was trouble again but we saw a cow puncher come riding towards us. As we waited Henry and I changed horses and Henry asked for help. Henry, being a good roper, caught the cow with his lariat rope, the other man doing the same. Then they dragged the cow across the
 

 bridge and some 100 feet beyond. Henry, leaning down, got the other man's rope off. When the cow got up she hooked the horse Henry was riding, then seeing me not too far away on the tired pony, she made a run for me. I thought she would hit us broadside. I threw my leg forward, and the horse had moved enough that the cow hooked him in the rear. "Whoopie!!" with the second bucking jump I went sky-high. I came down head first and made a fast run to and under the bridge, the cow right at me. Henry was really laughing. The cow went back across the bridge and headed back to her home range. The other two cows had gone back before. Well, that cow was mad and on a real rampage by now. Henry crossed the bridge after her and I got on the bronc again. When Henry came within 100 feet of the cow, she turned and chased him back across the bridge. Henry and I headed up the lane (fenced road) towards Roy with the cow after us. Whenever she stopped, we would go back toward her, and she would take after us again, dragging the long rope. Part way up this lane we met a Ford car and the driver honked his horn, thinking the cow would get out of his way. The cow did not, so the driver went around her, going fairly fast. The cow made a lunge after the car but missed it by a few inches. Well, on we came, the cow following us. When we were nearly to the stockyards in Roy, we came to an open gate in the fence, to the north near the creek and much brush. The cow went in here, and Henry, following her grabbed the rope and tied it to some heavy brush. We then went on to the livery barn and got three mounted, men. They roped the cow using one rope each to keep the cow from attacking if she managed to get up. They dragged the cow into the stockyards where all the rope were taken off. We then went to supper after having gone all day without food. I went to our home ranch five miles southeast of Roy, saying to Henry he could get help to finish the trip the next morning.
   I saw Henry a few days later and asked him who, helped him. "No one would help," he answered, "but then, I did not need help. When I opened the stockyard, gate, she came after me so I took off for the Walter Haney ranch and the cow chased me all the way. "This was a tease and a chase for about 10 miles.

COWBOY DAYS IN FERGUS COUNTY
14 January 1915

   Judge Roy E. Ayers (later, Governor of the State of Montana) reminisces his cowboy experiences. Singular Case of "Rock and Rye", two steers that became pals and long escaped the butcher's block.
 Roy E. Ayers, Montana's youngest district judge, is a genuine ex-cowboy, but there are plenty of other men now occupying official positions in this state who once rode the range. The Judge was always "the kid" with the outfits and he was still a good deal of a kid when he stopped riding and came to Lewistown to attend school, later going east to college. He looks back on those days of the range with affection and has a soft spot in his heart for the cow-punchers. The other day a point came up in conversation in the judges chambers that led him to a reminiscent vein. This followed upon the heels of some dictation to Hal B. Gibson, the court stenographer, and he was still present and becoming interested he took down Judge Ayers' talk, transcribed it, and here it is just as it came from the lips of the judge:

   "Yes, Doc, I know I am slow in relating to you any of my reminiscenses of the range, but this morning, in going through those of my belongings which I do not permit my wife, or any other person, to handle, I ran across my old forty-five still sticking in its scabbard and hanging on the same belt that I used to wear when I was on the range. The belt won't go around me now by about eight inches, but the sight of it made me wish that I could buckle it on and climb to the middle of a cayuse and comfortably seat myself in the full flower stamped "Clarence Nelson". But I can't do it, Doc, for two reasons: First, I peddled my "Clarence Nelson" when I went away to study law, and second, there ain't no horses like I used to ride, and if there were, there ain't no range to ride 'em on. But, Doc, it made me remember a little incident that I know you would enjoy.

In the Good Old Days

   It was along in the early nineties, before Jim Hill's or John Rockefeller's iron horse had ever trespassed upon Fergus county dirt. It was before the dry-land farmer, in even his most fantastic dreams, had ever thought of Fergus county. It was before barbed wire had taken possession of the streams, and before we thought that a post hole would ever be dug upon the benches. Yes, Doc, in those days thousands of cattle roamed the ranges of Fergus county at will, and in that portion lying east of the Judith Mountains browsed over the finest range ever selected by the bovine. From the Missouri river north to the Musselshell on the south, and even to the land of the Crows, we gathered the finest beef that ever decorated the Chicago stockyards.

The Real Cowboys

   At that time the range was ridden semi-annually by scores of cow- punchers--but not of the class we sometimes see now. No, they didn't come from Montgomery Ward, nor were they the parcel post variety. Most of them knew no other home than the cow camp on the range. Most of them had no possessions except a "private", a saddle, and a gun, and their stock in trade and commodity of exchange was a post-graduate education in the great school of experience, which education had been acquired from lessons taught by Dame Nature. They could tell the time of day and night by the sun and stars; they could tell when a storm was coming and when it was going to break, by the instinct in their own bodies and minds and by the acts of the horses and cattle, and their judgement as to whether it was going to be a dry summer or a hard winter was usually good. In fact, Nature spoke to them in all her various languages.
 

A Great Roundup

   The time of which I speak was the year that McNamara & Marlow bought the Circle Bar from the English Syndicate. So numerous were the cow outfits at the time that on one circle at the junction of several ranges, known as the Buffalo corral, more than a hundred cowboys made a roundup composed of men from all the leading outfits of central Montana. The principal brands represented were: the Z, the FBar, The RL, the Horseshoe Bar, the Circle C, and others too numerous to mention. To illustrate the size of the roundup that day, it is appropriate to say that the state association got returns from forty-one mavericks branded at the Buffalo corral.
   You say that you are not familiar with the brute creation, but Doc, I assume that you, like the poet Burns, can see in every living thing a fellow mortal. And this is especially true of the brute creation, for I have many times noticed elements of their nature characteristic of the higher animal called man. Love and hatred, generosity and selfishness, jealousy, fear and courage are sometimes as much in evidence in the lower animals as in the higher.

Steers Who Were Pals

   As they came to my notice these many moons ago, a brotherly love between two steers, whose affection and care for each other, is seldom equalled among men and
Women.
   ROCK and RYE--for these were the names Tom Shaw, the foreman of the Two-Bar outfit gave them--first saw a Montana sunrise on a squatter's claim on the lower Musselshell country, and there they lived and grew until almost ready for market. But God had destined that their fate should be somewhat different from the average Montana steer, for, at the age of three they were sold to a bullwhacker transporting freight from Junction, on the Yellowstone, to Fort Magginis, and in that team the two steers I speak of, worked till the price of horses went down and the price of beef went up. Then they were turned out upon the range for a life of freedom among the sagebrush and buffalo grass, in order that they might put on the necessary flesh to be salable over the butchers block. That fall they were picked up in the roundup in the breaks of the Missouri, fifty miles or more from the place of release. They were ranging and feeding alone, perfectly contented in each other's company, and absolutely disregarding all the rest of cow society.
   The beef herd that fall, as usual, was in charge of the best and most careful cowboys in the outfit, whose sole duty was to see that the herd did not lose any of its weight and quality by its journey over the range to Billings, the shipping point; and it was then that these companions of the range, in showing such marked friendship and brotherly love for each other, became a study for every man in the outfit--except the cook, who never pemitted himself to study about anything.

A Remarkable Pair

   Sometimes while watering the herd, Rock would lose sight of Rye, and then the big steer would suddenly show an amount of nervous energy that would do credit to the best "rustler" Montana ever knew. He would rush through the herd, pushing other steers aside, and call and bellow until a response from Rye united them once more. When they had eaten buffalo grass to their hearts content, a glance or low moo from one to the other would indicate that it was time for them to select some secluded spot, lie down together and quietly chew their cuds.
   As sometimes happens, a stampede would occur, and then Rock and Rye would take advantage of their early training and not run far--they would immediately attempt to get out of the herd and reach free and neutral soil, and there would watch the stampede with the calmness of a present-day delivery horse watching a passing automobile. So great was their love for each other that on one occassion a horse and rider were knocked down by one of the steers, a bonus by the foreman of a new Stetson was offered to any puncher who could separate the pair single-handed.

Get a Respite

   Oft-times at night while standing my regular guard and listening to the "attempted" lullaby of my partner across the herd, have I seen those two steers lying side by side in the moonlight, seemingly as comfortable as two children tucked snugly in bed together, while across the prairie I could hear the wailing of the coyote--that remarkable outcast of the range--mingled with the ringing of the horse bells in the herd. One night, thinking that all was well, I took my back track to meet my partner and get "the makin's". My partner and I rested and smoked together until time to wake the next relief, and as he galloped on to camp to wake the boys for the last guard, I rode around the herd--which was conspicuous by the absence of Rock and Rye. I did not tell the boys who relieved me, because I thought we would find those partners of the range at daybreak in a nearby coulee, but much to my surprise, they were not over-taken short of ten miles distant, and as the foreman was with the boys who followed them, and the long drive would not increase their value for beef, it was decided to leave them to be picked up and shipped with the next herd, which would pass by that same place some three weeks later and be handled by the same men; for it was well known that the rest of the outfit on the home ranch would have another herd ready as soon as those in charge of the beef returned.
   In two days more, we had safely loaded our herd upon the cars and started it on the long journey to the tables of capital at the other end. As the season was growing late, we did not stop long to put red paint on the then "cow town"--Billings--but hurried back in order that we might load another herd before equinoctial. But, Doc, you may believe it or not, they turned Rock and Rye over to us again, having picked them up in their old haunts near the Missouri--but we lost them again in much the same way, but this time not on my guard; they got away earlier in the night during the watch of Bob Levens, now mayor of Billings. And so it happened for several years that unsuccessful attempts were made to bring those partners of the range to their doom. But years dimmed their sight and slowed their pace, and finally Rappel brothers earned a commission for selling them to Swift & Company.
So these two had wandered from calfhood to maturity, and in the summer must have had a good time, for they picked range where the grass was plenty and the water was good. But in winter--how then? You know, Doc, cattle of their class were never fed, and surely those two, like many a puncher, must have seen some hard times. Often at night, under the shelter of a friendly cutbank, they heard the howl of the blizzard singing a song of starvation. And how often they must have seen each other get thinner while eating sagebrush and willows and snow when the grass was all covered and the water holes frozen? And how thankful they must have been when friendly chinook solved for them, and in their favor, the problems of life and death. 
 

A Few of the Old Guard

   Rock and Rye are probably forgotten by most of those on that roundup, but to me they have always been a study--or probably I should say not forgotten by most of them, because now it occurrs to me that many of the boys have crossed the Great Divide. Many of them had then grown old in the saddle--I was the "kid" of the bunch. Some died with their boots on, others made their exit in the usual quiet manner. However, there are few of us left--none in jail, and none are in the saddle. Some are trying to "make it" go on a dryland farm; some are clinging to their old friend, the horse, by running livery barns; others have been, and still are, in the sheriffs office, an honor to which all cow-punchers aspire, and from which class the best sheriffs are made. The place where Buffalo corral stood is now a thriving community under the Winner irrigation project, and the rest of the range over which we worked, instead of having a few isolated cow camps, is now a great settled comunity of prosperous and thriving dry-land farmers; and in that land once ruled by the bronco and the cowboy, now we have the reign of the plow horse and the school ma'am. 

Farewell, old range, you are no more;
You have swiftly yielded to the biner' s roar. 
Your sunny slopes with grass once dented 
Are fields of grain by the farmers planted; 
Where the Indian and the buffalo used to roam
We find some dry-land farmer' s home.
Where the sun-tanned puncher with his brand. 
Used to follow the herds to increase his band, 
Where the old freighter, in his rough way, 
Skinned along some twenty miles a day,
Where patches of sagebrush covered the ground, 
Now we find a dry-land farmer's town.

An even though these changes in vocation and industry have come to pass, and the man in his arrogance still claims the Spirit Land only for himself, yet who can say that there may not be found at this moment, roaming side by side, an eternal continuation of the friendship of Rock and Rye!"
by Roy E. Ayers

GRAZING DISTRICTS
by Warren Willmore

   The government land opened for homesteading, called public domain, was all a part of the Louisiana Purchase. After the surveying, certain sections in each township were reserved for the support of the public school system. These sections, and county lands acquired by tax foreclosure after being abandoned by the homesteaders, were used as free range until 1934 when the Taylor Grazing Act closed all federal lands to free grazing.
   In 1929 the pioneering venture of the people of the Mezpaw Pumpkin Creek area of southeastern Montana had the idea of cooperative grazing districts. Two coops were started, which resulted in the State Grazing Act passed in 1933 by the legislature.
   The first two grazing cooperations had very little federal government land, but a lot of county and state school lands. They had blocks of school lands, a result of a trade of timber lands of western Montana for grass land in the eastern section. There are no such blocks of school lands in our area, just sections 16 and 36 in each township.
   In 1934, Mike Hickey, L.C. Willmore, Ralph Jensen and other ranchers in western states began to work for control of the ranges, the result being the Taylor Grazing Act passed in Congress which closed all federal land to free grazing.
   In August of 1934 stockmen in the Crooked Creek area met at the Rossiter School house and in October of that year stockmen in the Indian Butte area met at the Willmore ranch, to formulate plans to create grazing districts. At the meeting, at Willmores, Fergus No. 1 District was planned. It was to go from Winifred east to the county line, along the south side of the Missouri River and south for about 172 miles. At a meeting held in November, the decision was made to split the Fergus No. I as it was too big and the Indian Butte District was incorporated. Armells Creek was the western line. Indian Butte was approved as a grazing district cooperation in January of 1935. It was the first such district organized under Montana Laws with the approval ol the Montana Grazing Commission. These districts had about 200,000 acres of open range land. They were incorporated so the members could control the range from over grazing and develop livestock water.
    In 1935, with 30 more districts in the planning, the state created and organized the Montana Grazing Commission, by an act of the 24th legislative assembly to admininster the Taylor Grazing Act in Montana and to supervise the work and promulgate the rules and regulations. Senator L.M.A. Wass, of Roy, was the first chairman. This group was called the Grass Commission until it was abolished when the Department of Resources took over in 1976. Montana is the only state with state cooperative grazing districts.
   The first grass survey, the result of the 1933 State Grazing Act, to figure the carrying capacity of a range, was done by Bill Johnson of Roy. The survey, done at that time, compares with later work. It takes 40 acres to summer a cow and calf, on the average; less near the mountains and up to a hundred in the breaks. There is one school section on the north side of the river that will summer one cow and a calf.
 

    Under the laws of the Montana Grass Conservation Act, anyone who ran livestock from 1929 to 1934, called priority years, could apply for membership in the districts. This qualified them for a permit on federal lands.
   In 1935 the War Department bought the river ranches from Fort Peck to Cow Island with the ranches on the upper end receiving a life time lease. Several were members of the Indian Butte District.
   In 1936 the grazing districts paid the first fees to the Secretary of Interior. When the fee system was set up under the Bureau of Land Management (BLM), one fourth of those fees came back to the county in lieu of taxes.
   In 1936, a very dry year, the grazing districts were recipients of a program to build several stockwater dams, under WPA. The districts were set up to improve the range and there was a provision in the law that there had to be a dam built so that no cow had to walk more than a mile for water. It was at this time that many of the dams were built, among them the huge Valentine reservoir. There were also rules regarding fences, size of stud horses, kinds of bulls, etc.
   That same year an area, averaging 6 miles on each side of the river, was set aside by executive order to create the Ft. Peck game range, to be managed for the small game of eastern Montana. This area is now known as the Charles M. Russell Game Refuge.
   In 1938 several ranches that were members of these grazing districts sold their places to the government under the Bankhead and Jones Act. The drouth of the 30's had discouraged them. These ranches were bought for about $3 per acre. The grazing districts were required to lease these lands for grazing.
   The Soil Conservation Service administered these lands and transferred the grazing rights from the purchased lands and increased them, on the remaining ranches. In the beginning cattle could run on the range for 10 months out of the year, now they are run for 7 months on summer range and wintered the other 5 months within the boundaries of the ranches.
   In 1940 the grazing districts re-incorporated as State Cooperative Districts to get the state lands under lease. From 1944-1946 the two districts bought about 45,000 acres of county land. They had been leasing 75,000 acres, but were losing land to individuals so were forced to protect their land by buying all remaining county land.

INDIAN BUTTE GRAZING DISTRICT

   After the first planning meeting in October of 1934 the decision was made that the Fergus No. 1 area was too big, so at a meeting in November of that year interested parties again met at the Willmore Ranch and the Fergus No. 1 was split and the Indian Butte Grazing District was formed. As reported in 1935:

The first officers of the Indian Butte Grazing District were: President, Mike Hickey; Vice President, L.C. Willmore; Sec.-Treasurer, Mrs. Josie H. Jones; directors, John Beck, Herb Beck and Ralph Jensen. There were about 15 members present.

   Over the course of the years many others have taken over and served on the board of directors. Some of those who served on the board were: Swend Holland, Larry Jordan, Ray McNulty and Joe Mauland. Vernon Puckett held the job of secretary for over 40 years. The present day directors are: Charles Petranek, chairman; Wilbert "Hap" Zahn, Dan Cimrhakl, Joe "Speed" Komarek and Perry Kalal. Helen Umstead is hired as secretary.
   The rules, laws and regulations governing the district have changed many times over the years; many of the changes having to do with its relationshp to the CMR game range. The game range was managed by the BLM and Fish and Wildlife until 1976 when the Fish and Wildlife took over.
   The Willmore Ranch is the only one of the original ranches involved in the formation of the grazing district, still in operation by the same family.

CROOKED CREEK COOPERATIVE GRAZING ASSOCIATION 
by Carol Sluggett

   On August 22, 1934 the stockmen interested in the formation of a grazing district on Antelope and Crooked Creek held a meeting at Rossiters School House. The meeting was called to order and Vernon Puckett was elected chairperson. Temporary officers were elected: Rolly Rossiter, president; Joe Peoples, vice president; Vernon Puckett, Secretary-treasurer, and executive board members Charles Southworth, Carl Gautier and Bill Galloway. Those present were: W.C. Galloway, Joe Peoples, Frank Southworthl Laurence Kauth, Charles Southworth, Swan Johnson, Rolly Rossiter, Gib Distad, Joe Kosir, Nick Spiroff, Carl Gautier and Vernon Puckett.
   The second meeting was held on Sept. 17, 1934. Those present in addition to the above were: Andrew Murphy, H.E. McLaughlin, Frank Murphy, Frank Messinger, Frank Perry, A.J. Hughes and Mike Myers.
   Permanent officers were elected: A.J. Hughes, president; Charles Southworth, vice president; Vernon Puckett, secretary-treasurer; executive board: Joe Peoples, Carl Gautier, W.C. Galloway and Nick Spiroff.
   At the November 14, 1934 meeting it was decided to call the district Crooked Creek Cooperative Association and that the meeting place would be Rossiter School house in Fergus Co. and the post office to be Roy, Montana.
   In the fall of 1949 it was decided to contact Indian Butte about building a fence between Crooked Creek and Indian Butte districts. (Up to that time cattle roamed freely and ranchers in either district would spend many days and travel many miles to round up their livestock).
   In the fall of 1964 and 1965 most of the allotments
 

 were fenced to individual except for J. Styer-E. Styer, Spiroff- E. Styer and Sluggett-Pitman and E. Styer and Spiroff were individualized in 1980.
 Vernon Puckett was secretary for 45 years, retiring in December of 1979. Ed Styer has served the longest time on the board, since 1950, making it 38 years.
Present board members are: President, Lester Sluggett; vice president, Bob Fink; and Carol Sluggett, secretary-treasurer. Other members of the board are Ed Styer, Lee Iverson and John Gilpatrick.
   The Crooked Creek District is joined on the east by the Chain Butte District. Sections of the Grass Range Grazing District lay within the boundaries of this history area.

WPA DAYS
by Frank Cimrhakl and John Siroky

   During the years of drouth and low farm prices the Works Progress Administration started a project in 1936-37 to give local people some form of employment near their homes. This project was to build stockwater dams in the area; starting 20 miles northeast of Roy and extending 20 miles east. The dams were to be built about 3 miles apart.
   All work was done with horses. Each dam site had up to 12 four-horse teams. Each team pulled a 5-foot fresno, one behind the other. Everyone moved very fast. A helper would load the fresno, holding onto a Johnson bar to steady; then the driver had to hold the lever so as not to lose the dirt before he got to where it was to be dumped on the fill. Two other operators did all the plowing, each using a one-bottom, sulky plow. Each plow was pulled by four horses. All ground had to be plowed, as fresno's only picked up loose dirt.
   There were several dams built at one time. Earl Rife was foreman on one dam; Les Simpkins on another. The dams were numbered as built, from 1 to 13. There were other dams, in other areas, being built at the same time. Some of the men working on our crew were: William Kudzia, Gus Souchek, Claude Satterfield, Bill Larson, Con Anderson, John Siroky, Joe Siroky, Frank Cimrhakl, John Umstead, Roy Umstead, Murray Cottrell, Ernie Peters, Flunky Scanlon, Stibal, Joe Kasala and Guy Townsend, the time keeper. He rode out everyday and kept check on everyone.
   Walt Braiser, from the Montana Elevator at Roy, delivered hay to each site at $40 a ton and oats at $4 a hundred. Everyone paid for the feed for their horses. Jess Woodcock, with a 1936 Ford truck and a 1000 gallon tank, delivered water from the Roy railroad well to stockwater tanks for the horses at each site at no cost to operators.
   Some had tents to live in; others slept under the wagons where the horses were tied and fed. The men worked in ten day shifts, all that was allowed in a month. There would be another crew that worked another ten day shift. Over 85 people worked in the two shifts. For each 10 day shift they received $112.
   All dams, when completed, were riprapped with rock on the water side. I (Frank C.) was with a crew that hauled rock for riprapping. I had a 1927 Chev. flat bed truck and with Laurence Christensen helping, picked up rock on the range near the dam site. We hauled 8 loads each day. Vaughn Tindall, with a stone boat and two horses, hauled the rocks to where three men were doing the riprapping. Charles Yusta was the foreman.
   My brother-in-law, Frank Stepan and I, lived in a tent on the site, slept on a mattress on the ground and cooked with a small campstove for the 10 days each month. On our last shift, in October, we had 3" of snow. Albert Jakes lived nearby, so we moved into their house to finish the shift. Today, people on the job would be living in campers. Flunky Scanlon had the best living, as he had a tent on a hayrack with a bed, campstove and the best comfort on the job. Some called it the Hilton Hotel.
   Frank Stepan was on the riprap crew and got $4 per day. I received $4.50 for the use of my truck and for myself $4, for a total of $85 for a 10 day shift.
   Dam No. 1 had the only cement spillway. I hauled sand from the Turner bottom on the Missouri River. Wilder still had a post office and store where we would buy gas and supplies.
Everyone appreciated the chance to earn $40 a month, close to home. This was one good project the government did for this area as all the dams have good stock-water in them to this day.
   Another WPA project was mattress making. Roy Umstead was the foreman on this job. Materials, sheeting and cotton batting, were shipped in and the mattresses were made in the dance hall at Roy. There were 30 or more individuals involved. Six to eight would work on a mattress at a time. When through they were "just like boughten ones". "We (John Siroky) used ours for many years".
   These mattresses were to replace the straw ticks most people were using up to that time. Workers received no wages, but each received a mattress. No  mattresses were ever sold, all were for those who worked on the project.

SCHOOLS

"TOMBOY"
by Esther Potterf Hill

She may be clad in ruffled skirt
Or ragged jeans, an old sweatshirt,
Sunday slippers shined so neat
Or dirty sneakers on her feet.

Her fingernails are polished bright,
Her hair, in curlers, done up tight;
'Round her neck's a pretty locket,
Nails and string in bulging pocket.

She loves to swim, to throw a ball,
To climb a tree (and never fall).
To dig for worms and then to fish,
And apple pie's her favorite dish.

She wears a holster, packs a gun.
Her eyes are always full of fun,
Her cheeks a-bloom, her manner grand--
(A big raw carrot in her hand).

Her joyous laughter rings out true;
She loves to live--she's never blue.
She is sometimes good, sometimes bad--
God's special gift to Morn and Dad.

   Esther Potterf Hill of Lewistown was a 1942 Roy High School graduate. Classmates remember that she always had a "flair" for writing. Esther is the daughter of Dee and Lena Potterf, early day business people of Roy.
   Mrs. Hill was, for a time, editor of the Lewistown News Argus; a paper that she worked for, for many years.

COUNTRY SCHOOLS
by Donna Lund

   The history of a country school is hard to trace as schools were often moved around. Sometimes the buildings were moved, sometimes school was held in a different building. When the school sat by Smiths, it was called Smith's school even though the name in the Superintendent's office might be Paradise. Then the Paradise school might be moved nearer to Jones, and the neighborhood then called it Jones School.
   In the early days, school was sometimes only held for a couple of months at a time. Then school might start again in a couple of months, sometimes with a different teacher.
   Sometimes the children would be 15 or 16 and still in the sixth grade. Weather could prevent the children from coming all the time, especially if they lived a ways from the school. The boys sometimes had to go to work and came to school when they had time.
    Winnie Rife recalls a time when a child in the neighborhood came to school and was very cold. The teacher - she thinks it was Benjamin Pierce - put a lamp or lantern inside an apple crate and set the child on the top of the crate to warm her up.
   Country schools were good experience, as there was a variety of ages and children learned to get along with them all.
  The teachers were sometimes ladies from the neighborhood. In some areas it was preferred that the teacher be single. But when there were not enough single teachers, the married ones were hired. Teachers often did not mention they were married in order to have a better chance at a school.
   The following article by Margaret Hedman tells about a year in Little Crooked school. It could have been any country school, as the narrative is typical of most country schools.
   Individual schools are listed in the communities where they were located.

GOING TO SCHOOL IN THE COUNTRY
by Margaret Hedman

   The hot, dry, breathless summer of 1930 had a sameness like any summer. Charles and I had our everyday chores -- tending the turkeys and chickens, running errands to and from the garden, watching and listening for the milk cows, -- however, we had noticed an unusual amount of whispering and spelling between our parents. A common practice in those days--keep kids uninformed. We had frequent visits from our neighbors, Willmores and Jensens. The same hush-hush chatter continued, nonetheless the mystery solved itself in about two weeks for they told us we were moving to Little Crooked to attend school instead of Roy.
   They explained how and why it was necessary for an attendance of five pupils which were Marie Webb Zahn, who lived at Wilder, she would board with Mrs. Jensen, the teacher. My mother planned to move into a one room 15 x 20 feet shack for the school year. She would board two of our neighbor kids, Warren and Bob Willmore, Charles and I made the necessary five. "But where is Little Crooked?" we asked. My dad said "We'll make a run over there then you can see where you'll be

 living this school year." Happily we all fit in a topless Model T. to jiggle and bounce the 22 miles across hills and a rough road to Wilder Trail. Having crossed it we could plainly see a huge log building, the Little Crooked Community Hall which would be our school house.
    Enroute we had picked up Mrs. Jensen, now our inspection tour group was complete. Immediately when viewing the long interior of the hall, it was decided to partition the stage end of the building for a teacherage.
   The building we were to live in had to be skidded into place between a reservoir and the school house. At one time it belonged to Alfred Heathcote.
Fall-1930. As I remember, we were amazed with the different atmosphere. The huge room had a bare wood floor, high ceiling and ample windows on the side walls.
   The school desks were double wide booth like structures which made it convenient for the teacher to sit with the pupil for class. The teachers desk had a very practical appearance, no doubt home made also.
   The building was heated by a wood burning heater in the middle of the room. Our lights were either a kerosene lamp or a gas lantern run by hi-test gas and mantles. "Heaven help the kid that broke the last mantle".
   Our school day was from 9:00 to 4:00 with one hour for lunch. Our subjects met the requirements plus music and art education. For music, Mrs. Jensen had a wind-type phonograph. When she played the instrumental sides, we were to guess or know the type of instrument by imitating playing the correct instrument - such as violin, flute, horn and piano. We also learned the basics in note reading from a scale that remained on the blackboard continuously.
   For art work, we decorated the windows with seasonal objects made from heavy construction paper.
   We had a 15 minute recess twice a day. Mrs. Jensen waving a hand brass bell in the doorway meant times up. If we had wandered too far out of hearing, we had to make up the time; very annoying.
   Mrs. Hart was our County Superintendent of schools. She had a chauffeur, and they came in a Model A coach. She would make a visit in the fall and another toward spring- then we had to show off what we had accomplished in some manner. What I hated most, probably why I remember it, was standing up imitating Mrs. Jensens selection of musical instrument in accompaniment to her favorite instrumental side. You never knew what she was going to pick for you. Such as she might say, "Today you play the flute, Margaret".
   Our play time or free time was seasonal. The fall days were spent roaming over the near by hills and down to the Creek where we picked out sticks and willows that would make suitable stick horses.
   This doesn't sound like much today; but to us in the 1930's, picking out a good stick horse became quite an art. First you had to find a good willow not too big, not too small. If you wanted a buckskin, you carefully scraped the very top of the bark off; and if you needed a palomino to put style to your bunch of horses, you scraped deeper taking all the bark off leaving a pretty whitish color.
   Marie always had the stick horse that bucked the hardest, forever throwing her to the ground. My brother, Charles, always had a big old clumsy stick just right for a sheepherder, which he was when we played ranch and range war. Bob and I strung along with the more gentle type.
   While Warren's semi-wild string always had the best one wire cut or one of Marie's studs had torn his favorite. Our imagination ran wild in those days.
   Winter. In winter we built snowmen and slid down hills in our homemade sleds. Did some skating if the ice was thick on a near by dam. As I remember only about two of us had skates. We looked forward to seeing W.E. Jones, the mailman, for the Wilder Route.
   Spring, 1931. After a long winter, spring was welcome. Away we ran again over the hills, watching the last bit of snow melt and run down the coulee, looking for flowers and small animals. As I have mentioned before, we lived near a reservoir. Near the water was a circle of stones and an old tin frying pan someone had no doubt set up to make a meal.
   I can remember us planning to build a fire in the circle of stones. As the shack we lived in was out of sight and the school house was quite a distance, we felt safe. As we were all watching a lizzard being boiled alive, my mother came over the dam banking and needless to say we all got a licking, a scolding and lessons on fire. We never anticipated tell-tale smoke signals.
   When we went back to school in Roy, it was proven the two years at Little Crooked did us no harm.

ANNA ROBERTS DUFFY REMEMBERS DAYS AS SCHOOL MA'AM
by Roberta Donovan

Lewistown News Argus -- December 19, 1971.

   A half century has come and gone, but Mrs. Duffy of Fort Maginnis still remembers the days when she was a pioneer school teacher in the Central Montana communities.
   Mrs. Duffy, then Anna Roberts, had completed normal school at Dillon and taught one year in Cascade County when she decided to accept a position in School District #5, some 25 miles east of Lewistown. There were three schools in the district, the Fort Maginnis, the Alpine and the Dengel School. The young school ma'am caught the Great Northern train in Great Falls. While waiting in the depot there, she started visiting with another young lady, a Miss Hanson, and learned that she also was going to Lewistown to accept a school. They changed to the Milwaukee in Lewistown for the ride to Grass Range.

P. 45

    Aboard the train they made the acquaintance of a young man, Jerry Joslyn, and learned he was also to teach in the area. It ended up that Joslyn got the Dengel school, Miss Hanson the Fort Maginnis and Anna the Alpine.
   During that term of school, Anna lived with the Taylor family. She drove a team and buggy to school each day, picking up children along the route. There were 13 students in the school that year.
    In those days the school term was short, starting soon after the school election in the spring and continuing until winter weather forced it to close. The school was always out before Christmas; so instead of the traditional Christmas program the students usually presented a program for their parents at Thanksgiving time - if the school was still in session then.
   After teaching at the Alpine school, Maiden and New Year, Anna accepted the 79 school in the river breaks beyond Dovetail in what was then the northern edge of Fergus County.
   Reaching the school was a major problem. The railroad only ran as far as Roy, and the school was some distance beyond that. But with typical pioneer spirit, young Miss Roberts boarded the train and went as far as she could. Getting off the train in Roy, she asked a man how she could get to the 79. Pointing to a tall, lanky homesteader standing nearby, he told her that he was Gene Covert who lived near Valentine; and she might be able to catch a ride with him as far as his place, since he was just heading out with supplies.
   She rode to the Cover ranch, where she stayed overnight, and the next day Gene Covert's son, Bob, hitched up the team and buggy and drove her to her school in the breaks country.
   Anna gave up her teaching career to marry a young homesteader, Francis "Babe" Duffy on December 20, 1920. Babe took his bride home to his Fort Maginnis ranch, and she has lived in that area ever since. Her husband died in 1944, and she lived with her son, Tom.
   The Duffys had a total of seven children. In addition to Tom they are: Mrs. Betty Ann Harris of Fairfield; Dave of Lewistown; Chet, Dillon; Murray, Bozeman; Mrs. Dorothy Mays, in California; and Mrs. Ruth Burnett, Fairbanks, Alaska.
   Anna was originally from England. She came to this country with her mother and little sister in 1898, when she was five years old. An uncle, who lived near Great Falls, had lost his wife and written asking Anna's mother to come and keep house for him.
   Whether as a student near Great Falls, or a teacher in Cental Montana, school has played a prominent part in Anna's life.
   Anna Duffy passed away in November of 1988.

FERGUS COUNTY SUPERINTENDENTS
by Marie Zahn

AMANDA O. SWIFT AND LOUISE HART 

   Amanda O. Swift was Fergus County superintendent of schools from 1918 to 1924, after coming to Montana in 1912 and homesteading. Miss Swift was born in August of 1870 in Maine. She taught schools in Central Montana rural areas for many years and also was Petroleum County superintendent from 1925 to 1927.
   Much credit for the early success of country schools here, goes to the indomitable will and unfailing energy of Amanda Swift. The good of the children in this early era was her untiring purpose. Many a child in Fergus County received clothing and sometimes even money from her or from her appeal to others, so that the child might be able to continue school.
   Her sister, Alma Louise Hart, came to live with her in 1926 and they made their home together until Mrs. Hart's death, 26 May 1957. Mrs. Hart was born, 27 May 1873 in Maine, the daughter of Augustus and Abbie Swift, descendents of early pioneers from England.
   Alma Louise Swift was married to Elmer Hart of Greenfield, Mass.
   Mrs. Hart was a graduate of an eastern college and did practice teaching in Maine. She also held positions in the suburbs of Boston and in Randolph State Normal School, Vermont, before her marriage.
   After her husband's death in 1923, Mrs. Hart came to Montana as deputy to the county superintendent of schools, and was later elected to this office. She also taught two years in Lewistown schools. As County Superintendent, she visited all the county schools, first with horses and then by car, with her chauffeur at the wheel. Her last term ended the fall of 1932, when Pauline E. Patton of Fergus was elected, beginning in 1933.

    Mrs. Hart was buried at Greenfield, Mass. Miss Swift was 93 years when she died, 26 October 1963 at Warm Springs. The White Funeral Home was in charge.

LAWRENCE BARSNESS AND ELIZASETH BARSNESS GREEN
T I8 N R 23E Sec. 30, 19
Elizabeth Francis: Sec. 19

   Miss Elizabeth Francis and Lawrence Barsness came to Montana in 1914 and homesteaded adjoining claims southeast of Roy. She taught schools in the community and in 1917 they married and moved to Lewistown to make their home. Lawrence E. Barsness died in 1936, and Mrs. Barsness continued her teaching career. She taught Gilt Edge, Cheadle and Roy schools and was elected Fergus County Superintendent of Schools in 1942 and served until her retirement in 1954. She was dedicated to her profession.
   She married Floyd Green of Lewistown in 1953 and he died in June of 1955.
   Elizabeth Francis Barsness Green was born in May of 1890 at Vernon Center, Minnesota where she was schooled. She attended Mankato State Teachers College and received her B.A. degree at Colorado State College of Education at Greeley. She was a member of Delta Kappa Gamma, business women's sorority and DAR, the Lewistown Women's Club. She was an active member of the First Methodist Church of Lewistown. She died, 8 March 1958 at St. Joseph's Hospital, Lewistown. She is survived by her two sons: Larry Barsness of Missoula and Jack Barsness of Bozeman, and four grandchildren. She had two sisters and four brothers in Minnesota. 

• CBC riders, Frank Kincaid (background) and Bob Ingalls (foreground) at Zahn homestad, 1935.
   

• Disbrow-McVey and Bickle cowboys take a well-deserved break around the campfire, at Cottonwood Crossing on Crooked Creek, July 4, 1935. This was the last roundup wagon that ran in this country. Cowboys from left to right: Larry Jordan, Mark Stanley, Ben Burnett, Ted Allen and Arnold Zahn.
   

• A bunch of young cowboys during the early days of the open range. L. to R. Albert LaFountain, Marvin Sherman, Larry Jordan and John Hedman.
   

• Komarek School 1931. Back row, Left to right: George  Komarek, Stella Nevijel, Vlasta Stibal, Joe "Speed" Komarek, in the back row. Front row: Lada Stibal, Helen Moucka, Libby Stibal, Annie Komarek.

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