TX BIOS:  W. F. (Uncle Bill) Kellis
   Selected and converted.American Memory, Library of Congress.
   
   Washington, 1994.
   
   Preceding element provides place and date of transcription only.
   
   This transcription intended to be 99.95% accurate.
   
   For more information about this text and this American Memory
   collection, refer to accompanying matter.
   
   U.S. Work Projects Administration, Federal Writers' Project (Folklore
   Project, Life Histories, 1936-39); Manuscript Division, Library of
   Congress.Copyright status not determined.
   
   00011
   
   Folk Stuff - Range Lore
   
   Range-lore
   
   Elizabeth Doyle
   
   San Angelo, Texas.
   
   Page one
   
   RANGE-LORE
   
   W. F. (Uncle Bill) Kellis, long time Editor of Sterling City's only
   surviving newspaper and jovial "Uncle" of the town tells the following
   story:
   
   "I'm getting into my late 80's but I'm still able to freeze out every
   newspaper that comes to town. I tell them I just sit still and keep on
   raising turnips and taters until I starve them out.
   
   "I will have to tell you my story which I've entitled, "Saved by Big
   Breeches". This incident took place about fifty years ago when I
   raised cattle on the K L S Ranch.
   
     NOTE: C12 - Texas
     
   00022I helped with round-ups on the Half Circle S and the U ranches
   and on one occasion when I was riding a pretty tough bronc on a
   round-up he ran away with me and left the shreds of my trousers
   hanging on the mesquites. I was certainly in a fix when I went home
   and the wife laughed at me. I had a suit but it was not fit to ride
   in, so I went to [??] Cooper's store at Montvale and invested in the
   only pair of pants he had in the store. I wore 31 waist size and the
   new purchase was a size 40. Next morning when I donned my new trousers
   the wife snickered again but I had no choice, I had to wear them. The
   seat of these breeches, after I was in them, had room for a negro
   family. Truly, they hung low and wide as I rode off to a round-up on
   Lacy Creek. I had to cross a mountain and as I started down on the
   other side I dismounted and led my horse, because it was so steep and
   rocky. I had just stepped off a ledge of rock when my horse shied and
   pulled back on the reins, suspending me for a moment with one foot on
   the rock and the other one stretched out over open space. A big six
   foot rattler which was coiled on the side of the rock struck just at
   this moment and hung his fangs in the spacious seat of my new
   breeches. Dropping my bridle reins, I went down that mountain at a
   rate that any modern speed fool might envy. I was yelling, 'Snake!
   Snake!' just as if I expected to be heard and I don't suppose there
   was a human being within five miles of me. I turned somersaults and
   rolled 00033and kicked and did all the maneuvers of the Big Apple, I'm
   sure, but that booger held right on. At last I leaped over a catelaw
   and dragged that snake loose on the thorns, but kept on running until
   I reached level ground. When I had regained consciousness and enough
   breath to start back I cautiously made my way back the trail and found
   that monster about as angry as I was scared. I threw a big rock at him
   and he coiled himself under a catelaw and declared war, without
   leaving it to a vote. After pounding him with many rocks, which only
   angered him the more, I chanced to remember my carbine on my saddle
   and made quick work of blowing off that rascal's head. I have often
   shuddered to think what might have happened had I not had on my big,
   baggy breeches. I hesitate to relate the story because it sounds so
   much like what could be classed as only a "snake story", but it is
   true, every word of it, and I have dreamed of that snake at least a
   hundred times, always awakening with a severe case of the jitters.
   
   "Speaking of losing my breeches calls to mind a noted cowhand of
   Concholand, one Julius McKinney who like "Wimpy" was always hungry. It
   was common knowledge among the denizens of ranchland that Julius could
   eat more food than any four men. He was a good cowhand but always
   preferred the job of "coosie" at the chuck wagon because he could get
   plenty to eat 00044there. Being a good cook, Julius was always popular
   at the round-ups. One day as he was preparing the noon meal, he
   decided to wash his clothes, which consisted of a pair of ancient
   ducking pants and a hickory shirt. He was sure he could get them dried
   and back on before the boys got in off the range for dinner, so he
   proceeded to cut holes in some corn sacks for his neck, arms, and
   legs, and got into them while he washed his shirt and pants and hung
   them out on the fence to dry. He was "scaring up chuck" for the boys
   and had just finished a pan of biscuit dough when he thought to go see
   if his clothes had dried. To his dismay the shirt and pants were gone.
   Looking down toward the river he spied two old U cows standing under
   the shade of a big hackberry tree, complacently chewing on his pants
   and shirt. These two bovines were noted as the worst chewers on the
   ranch. Dismayed at his plight, Julius gave chase to those old cows,
   trying to recover his raiment because without them he could never face
   the boys, all dressed up in his corn sacks; they would razz him to
   death. After exhausting himself in the futile chase he gave up in
   despair and returned to camp. Knowing that he could never be seen in
   the corn sack suit he determined to get away somehow, so he mounted
   one of the wagon mules and rode for San Angelo, fifty miles away, the
   nearest place at which he could purchase shirt and pants. 00055Julius
   was in great distress, not wishing to be seen in this garb and he
   wondered how he would ever get into town. At the crossing on Dry Creek
   he met Bill Hiler, boss of the M S outfit. Bill was a great tease and
   thoroughly enjoyed the predicament in which Julius was placed but he
   remembered the many good meals he had eaten at the U chuck wagon where
   Julius presided as "coosie" and agreed to hide him away in the
   mesquites while he rode to town and bought him some clothes. He
   refused to let Julius go into town after he got all dressed up in his
   new shirt and pants, because he knew he would celebrate by getting
   drunk. Instead, he compromised by bringing him back a bottle in his
   saddle pockets. Julius stayed at the [?] S Ranch that night and rode
   into the U camp next day all dressed up like a negro preacher. His
   appearance greatly delighted the puncher who had drawn the red bean
   and was therefore forced to take Julius' place as "coosie"."
   0006Range-lore
   
   Elizabeth Doyle
   
   San Angelo, Texas.
   
   BIBLIOGRAPHY
   
   W. F. Kellis, Sterling City, Texas, interviewed, November 23, 1937.

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