ROOSEVELT FOUND L LODGE depressed during his short stay at Nahant. The extent to which Independent revulsion had gathered against James G. Blaine-and, by extension, against Lodge for supporting him-must have amazed them both. Almost to a man, the intellectual and social aristocracy of Massachusetts had decided to vote for Cleveland. The list of Republican opponents to Blaine contained such names as Adams, Quincy, Lowell, Saltonstall, Everett, and Eliot. These were the same names which had so often been borne on a silver tray into Lodge's parlor. Now, suddenly, the tray was empty, and his friends were snubbing him in the street. Lodge confessed that supporting Blaine was "the bitterest thing I ever had to do in my life." What particularly hurt was the widespread assumption that he had sold his conscience for a Congressional nomination in the fall. depressed during his short stay at Nahant. The extent to which Independent revulsion had gathered against James G. Blaine-and, by extension, against Lodge for supporting him-must have amazed them both. Almost to a man, the intellectual and social aristocracy of Massachusetts had decided to vote for Cleveland. The list of Republican opponents to Blaine contained such names as Adams, Quincy, Lowell, Saltonstall, Everett, and Eliot. These were the same names which had so often been borne on a silver tray into Lodge's parlor. Now, suddenly, the tray was empty, and his friends were snubbing him in the street. Lodge confessed that supporting Blaine was "the bitterest thing I ever had to do in my life." What particularly hurt was the widespread assumption that he had sold his conscience for a Congressional nomination in the fall.46 It was time, Roosevelt decided, to come to the aid of his stricken friend. He himself had said nothing publicly since his confession of support for Blaine at St. Paul, except to telegraph an ambiguous denial of the interview from Medora.47 No sooner had he returned to Chestnut Hill on 19 July than he summoned a reporter from the No sooner had he returned to Chestnut Hill on 19 July than he summoned a reporter from the Boston Herald Boston Herald and announced, once and for all, that he, too, would support the Republican presidential ticket. and announced, once and for all, that he, too, would support the Republican presidential ticket.

While at Chicago I told Mr. Lodge that such was my intention; but before announcing it, I wished to have time to think the whole matter over. A man cannot act both without and within the party; he can do either, but he cannot possibly do both...I am by inheritance and education a Republican; whatever good I have been able to accomplish in public life has been accomplished through the Republican party; I have acted with it in the past, and wish to act with it in the future; I went as a regular delegate to the Chicago convention, and I intend to abide by the outcome of that convention. I am going back in a day or two to my Western ranches, as I do not expect to take any part in the campaign this fall.48 He arrived back in New York to find Bamie's doormat piled with abusive letters. "Most of my friends seem surprised to find that I have not developed hoofs and horns," he wryly told Lodge.49 Harder to take, perhaps, was the criticism of Alice's family, voiced by her uncle, Henry Lee: "As for Cabot Lodge, nobody's surprised at Harder to take, perhaps, was the criticism of Alice's family, voiced by her uncle, Henry Lee: "As for Cabot Lodge, nobody's surprised at him; him; but you can tell that young whipper-snapper in New York from me that his independence was the only thing in him we cared for, and if he has gone back on that, we don't care to hear any more about him." but you can tell that young whipper-snapper in New York from me that his independence was the only thing in him we cared for, and if he has gone back on that, we don't care to hear any more about him."50 Reform newspapers, whose hero Roosevelt had so recently been, were loud in their denunciations of him. The Evening Post Evening Post thundered that "no ranch or other hiding place in the world" could shelter a so-called Independent who voted for the likes of James G. Blaine. Roosevelt sent a mischievous message to the editor, Edwin L. Godkin, accusing him of suffering from "a species of moral myopia, complicated with intellectual strabismus." Godkin, who was a man of little humor, forthwith became his severest public critic. thundered that "no ranch or other hiding place in the world" could shelter a so-called Independent who voted for the likes of James G. Blaine. Roosevelt sent a mischievous message to the editor, Edwin L. Godkin, accusing him of suffering from "a species of moral myopia, complicated with intellectual strabismus." Godkin, who was a man of little humor, forthwith became his severest public critic.51 Roosevelt did not seem to mind his sudden unpopularity. When the rumor that Grover Cleveland was the father of a bastard flashed across the country on 21 July,52 he could afford to laugh at the Independents who had already bolted to the Governor's side. Although he seemed, in a final interview on 26 July, to be talking only about his life out West, he subtly sounded a favorite theme: that of the masculine hardness of the practical politician, as opposed to the effeminate softness of armchair idealists. he could afford to laugh at the Independents who had already bolted to the Governor's side. Although he seemed, in a final interview on 26 July, to be talking only about his life out West, he subtly sounded a favorite theme: that of the masculine hardness of the practical politician, as opposed to the effeminate softness of armchair idealists.

It would electrify some of my friends who have accused me of representing the kid-glove element in politics if they could see me galloping over the plains day in and day out, clad in a buckskin shirt and leather chaparajos, with a big sombrero on my head. For good healthy exercise I would strongly recommend some of our gilded youth to go West and try a short course of riding bucking ponies, and assist at the branding of a lot of Texas steers.53 With that the ex-Assemblyman boarded a train with Sewall and Dow and returned to Dakota.

"WELL, BILL, WHAT do you think of the country?" asked Roosevelt. It was 1 August 1884, and the two backwoodsmen were spending their first night in the Badlands, at the Maltese Cross Ranch. do you think of the country?" asked Roosevelt. It was 1 August 1884, and the two backwoodsmen were spending their first night in the Badlands, at the Maltese Cross Ranch.

"I like it well enough," said Sewall, "but I don't believe that it's much of a cattle country."

"You don't know anything about it," Roosevelt protested.

Sewall obstinately went on: "It's the way it looks to me, like not much of a cattle country."54 Roosevelt shrugged off this remark. With a thousand new head just arrived from Minnesota ("the best lot of cattle shipped west this year," said the Bad Lands Cowboy) Bad Lands Cowboy) and six hundred veterans of last winter browsing contentedly on the river, he could see no reasons for pessimism. and six hundred veterans of last winter browsing contentedly on the river, he could see no reasons for pessimism.55 The next morning he ordered Sewall and Dow north to the downriver ranch-site, with a hundred head "to practice on." They left under the supervision of a grumpy herder, who was doubtful about Sewall's capacity to stay on his horse. Sewall, jouncing along uncomfortably, allowed that he had more experience "riding logs." The next morning he ordered Sewall and Dow north to the downriver ranch-site, with a hundred head "to practice on." They left under the supervision of a grumpy herder, who was doubtful about Sewall's capacity to stay on his horse. Sewall, jouncing along uncomfortably, allowed that he had more experience "riding logs."56 Roosevelt remained behind. There was a certain amount of soothing to be done at Maltese Cross. Merrifield and Ferris had not been pleased to discover, on returning from St. Paul, that a couple of Eastern lumbermen had displaced them in the boss's esteem. Since Roosevelt intended to build his home-ranch downriver, and would spend most of his time there, it was obvious whose company he preferred. Merrifield in particular was a man of easily bruised ego: perhaps to mollify him, Roosevelt asked if he would be his guide in a major hunting expedition later that month.57 This was the "trip into the Big Horn country" of Wyoming that he had been excitedly planning since June. "You will probably not hear from me for a couple of months," he warned Bamie, adding with relish, "...if our horses give out or run away, or we get caught in the snow, we may be out very much longer-till towards Christmas."58 He stopped short of telling his nervous sister that he had set his heart on killing the most dangerous animal in North America-the Rocky Mountain grizzly bear. He stopped short of telling his nervous sister that he had set his heart on killing the most dangerous animal in North America-the Rocky Mountain grizzly bear.

He wanted to leave within two weeks, but extra ponies had to be found and he was forced to postpone his departure to 18 August. In the interim he roamed restlessly through the Badlands, riding thirty miles south to visit the Langs, and forty miles north to check up on "my two backwoods babies." Exploring his new property with Sewall, he came upon the skulls of two elks with interlocked antlers. "Theirs had been a duel to the death," he decided. It was just the sort of symbol to appeal to him, and he promptly named the ranch-site Elkhorn.59 Apart from a touch of diarrhea, brought on by the alkaline water of the Little Missouri, Sewall and Dow seemed to be adjusting well to Dakota, and enjoying their new work. During the day they worked at making Roosevelt's hunting-shack habitable (it would serve as a home until the big ranch house was built), and at night took turns in watching the herd. Sewall still had misgivings about the Badlands as cattle country, while admitting that its "wild, desolate grandeur...has a kind of charm."60 Roosevelt used almost the same words in his letter to Bamie of 12 August.

...I grow very fond of this place, and it certainly has a desolate, grim beauty of its own, that has a curious fascination for me. The grassy, scantily wooded bottoms through which the winding river flows are bounded by bare, jagged buttes; their fantastic shapes and sharp, steep edges throw the most curious shadows, under the cloudless, glaring sky; and at evening I love to sit out in front of the hut and see their hard, gray outlines gradually growing soft and purple as the flaming sunset by degrees softens and dies away; while my days I spend generally alone, riding through the lonely rolling prairie and broken lands.61 He spent whole days in the saddle, riding as many as seventy-two miles between dawn and darkness. Sometimes he rode on through the night, rejoicing in the way "moonbeams play over the grassy stretches of the plateaus and glance off the windrippled blades as they would from water."62 His body hardened, the tan on his face deepened, hints of gold appeared in his hair and reddish mustache. "I now look like a regular cowboy dandy, with all my equipments finished in the most expensive style," he wrote Bamie. His buckskin tunic, custom-tailored by the Widow Maddox, seamstress of the Badlands, gave him particular delight, although its resemblance to a lady's shirtwaist caused some comment in Medora. "You would be amused to see me," he accurately wrote to Cabot Lodge, "in my broad sombrero hat, fringed and beaded buckskin shirt, horse hide chaparajos or riding trousers, and cowhide boots, with braided bridle and silver spurs." His body hardened, the tan on his face deepened, hints of gold appeared in his hair and reddish mustache. "I now look like a regular cowboy dandy, with all my equipments finished in the most expensive style," he wrote Bamie. His buckskin tunic, custom-tailored by the Widow Maddox, seamstress of the Badlands, gave him particular delight, although its resemblance to a lady's shirtwaist caused some comment in Medora. "You would be amused to see me," he accurately wrote to Cabot Lodge, "in my broad sombrero hat, fringed and beaded buckskin shirt, horse hide chaparajos or riding trousers, and cowhide boots, with braided bridle and silver spurs."63 It was probably during these seventeen free-ranging days that Roosevelt had his famous encounter with a bully in Nolan's Hotel, Mingusville, thirty-five miles west of Medora.64 The incident, which has since become a cliche in a thousand Wild West yarns, is best told in his own words: The incident, which has since become a cliche in a thousand Wild West yarns, is best told in his own words: I was out after lost horses...It was late in the evening when I reached the place. I heard one or two shots in the bar-room as I came up, and I disliked going in. But there was nowhere else to go, and it was a cold night. Inside the room were several men, who, including the bartender, were wearing the kind of smile worn by men who are making believe to like what they don't like. A shabby individual in a broad hat with a cocked gun in each hand was walking up and down the floor talking with strident profanity. He had evidently been shooting at the clock, which had two or three holes in its face....As soon as he saw me he hailed me as "Four Eyes", in reference to my spectacles, and said, "Four Eyes is going to treat." I joined in the laugh and got behind the stove and sat down, thinking to escape notice. He followed me, however, and though I tried to pass it off as a jest this merely made him more offensive, and he stood leaning over me, a gun in each hand, using very foul language...In response to his reiterated command that I should set up the drinks, I said, "Well, if I've got to, I've got to," and rose, looking past him.As I rose, I struck quick and hard with my right just to one side of the point of his jaw, hitting with my left as I straightened out, and then again with my right. He fired the guns, but I do not know whether this was merely a convulsive action of his hands, or whether he was trying to shoot at me. When he went down he struck the corner of the bar with his head...if he had moved I was about to drop on my knees; but he was senseless. I took away his guns, and the other people in the room, who were now loud in their denunciation of him, hustled him out and put him in the shed.

Next morning Roosevelt heard to his satisfaction that the bully had left town on a freight train.65

ANOTHER THREAT, from a more powerful adversary, arrived at Elkhorn one day in the form of a letter from the Marquis de Mores. It coolly announced that Roosevelt had no title to the land around his ranch-site. In the summer of 1883 the Marquis had stocked it with twelve thousand sheep; therefore the range belonged to him.66 Like most Americans, Roosevelt had a profound contempt for sheep. Not only did the "bleating idiots" nibble the grass so short that they starved out cattle, they were, intellectually speaking, about the lowest level of brute creation. "No man can associate with sheep," he snorted, "and retain his self-respect."67 In any case, the Marquis's flock had not survived the winter. Roosevelt curtly informed de Mores, by return messenger, that only dead sheep remained on the range, and he "did not think that they would hold it." In any case, the Marquis's flock had not survived the winter. Roosevelt curtly informed de Mores, by return messenger, that only dead sheep remained on the range, and he "did not think that they would hold it."

There was no reply, but Sewall and Dow were warned to look out for trouble.68

ONE MELANCHOLY DUTY awaited Roosevelt before he set off for the Big Horns on 18 August awaited Roosevelt before he set off for the Big Horns on 18 August: the collation of some tributes, speeches, and newspaper clippings into a printed memorial for Alice Lee. the collation of some tributes, speeches, and newspaper clippings into a printed memorial for Alice Lee.69 Having arranged them as best he could, he added his own poignant superscription, under the heading "In Memory of my Darling Wife." Having arranged them as best he could, he added his own poignant superscription, under the heading "In Memory of my Darling Wife."

She was beautiful in face and form, and lovelier still in spirit; as a flower she grew, and as a fair young flower she died. Her life had always been in the sunshine; there had never come to her a single great sorrow; and none ever knew her who did not love and revere her for her bright, sunny temper and her saintly unselfishness. Fair, pure, and joyous as a maiden; loving, tender, and happy as a young wife; when she had just become a mother, when her life seemed to be but just begun, and when the years seemed so bright before her-then, by a strange and terrible fate, death came to her.And when my heart's dearest died, the light went from my life forever.

The manuscript was sent to New York for private publication and distribution.70 Roosevelt sank briefly back into total despair. Gazing across the burned-out landscape of the Badlands, he told Bill Sewall that all his hopes lay buried in the East. He had nothing to live for, he said, and his daughter would never know him: "She would be just as well off without me." Roosevelt sank briefly back into total despair. Gazing across the burned-out landscape of the Badlands, he told Bill Sewall that all his hopes lay buried in the East. He had nothing to live for, he said, and his daughter would never know him: "She would be just as well off without me."

Talking as to a child, Sewall assured him that he would recover. "You won't always feel as you do now and you won't always be willing to stay here and drive cattle."

But Roosevelt was inconsolable.71

A MONTH LATER MONTH LATER, his mood had improved considerably. "I have had good sport," he wrote Bamie, on descending from the Big Horn Mountains, "and enough excitement and fatigue to prevent overmuch thought." He added significantly, "I have at last been able to sleep well at night."72 Readers of Roosevelt's diary of the hunt might wonder if by "excitement" he did not mean "carnage." A list culled from the pages of this little book indicates just how much blood was needed to blot out "thought." (Since Alice's death his diaries had become a monotonous record of things slain.) 17 Aug. "My battery consists of a long .45 Colt revolver, 150 cartridges, a no. 10 choke bore, 300-cartridge shotgun; a 4575 Winchester repeater, with 1,000 cartridges; a 4090 Sharps, 150 cartridges; a 50150 double barrelled Webley express, 100 cartridges."

19 Aug. 4 grouse, 5 duck.

20 Aug. 1 whitetail buck, "still in velvet," 2 sage hens.

24 Aug. "Knocked the heads off 2 sage grouse."

25 Aug. 6 sharptail grouse, 2 doves, 2 teal. sharptail grouse, 2 doves, 2 teal.

26 Aug. 8 prairie chickens.

27 Aug. 12 sage hens and prairie chickens, 1 yearling whitetail "through the heart."

29 Aug. "Broke the backs" of 2 blacktail bucks with a single bullet.

31 Aug. 1 jack rabbit, "cutting him nearly in two."

3 Sept. 2 blue grouse.

4 Sept. 2 elk.

5 Sept. 1 red rabbit, 1 blue grouse.

7 Sept. 2 elk, 1 blacktail doe.

8 Sept. Spares a doe and two fawns, "as we have more than enough meat." Kills 12 grouse instead.

11 Sept. 50 trout.

12 Sept. 1 bull elk, "killing him very neatly...knocked the heads off 2 grouse."

13 Sept. 1 blacktail buck "through the shoulder," 1 grizzly bear "through the brain."

14 Sept. 1 blacktail buck, 1 female grizzly, 1 bear cub, "the ball going clean through him from end to end."

15 Sept. 4 blue grouse.

16 Sept. 1 bull elk-"broke his back."

17 Sept. "Broke camp...Three pack ponies laden with hides and horns."73 Heading back to Dakota with his stinking cargo, Roosevelt killed a further 40 birds and animals on the prairie, making his total bag 170 items in just 47 days.74 So much for "excitement." As to "fatigue," he punished himself more severely, during these seven weeks, than ever before in his life. He covered nearly a thousand miles in the saddle and on foot, scorning a "prairie schooner" which accompanied him most of the way. The weather was often brutal, with winds powerful enough to overturn the wagon, and huge hailstones thudding into the earth with the velocity of bullets; but Roosevelt seemed to glory in it, once riding off alone into the rain. He camped in the Big Horns at altitudes of well over eight thousand feet, and at temperatures of well below freezing. Yet for all the thin air in his lungs and the chill in his bones, he pursued elk and bear with the energy of a hardened mountain-man: We had been running briskly [after elk] uphill through the soft, heavy loam, in which our feet made no noise but slipped and sank deeply; as a consequence, I was all out of breath and my hand so unsteady that I missed my first shot...I doubt if I ever went through more violent exertion than in the next ten minutes. We raced after them at full speed, opening fire; I wounded all three, but none of the wounds were immediately disabling. They trotted on and we panted afterward, slipping on the wet earth, pitching headlong over charred stumps, leaping on dead logs that broke beneath our weight, more than once measuring our full length across the ground, halting and firing whenever we got a chance. At last one bull fell; we passed him by after the others, which were still running uphill. The sweat streamed into my eyes and made furrows in the sooty mud that covered my face, from having fallen full length down the burnt earth; I sobbed for breath as I toiled at a shambling trot after them, as nearly done out as could well be.

He kept on going until he had killed the second elk, and pursued the third until "the blood grew less, and ceased, and I lost the track."75 Assuredly all this activity left Roosevelt little time to brood. Yet there was at least one final throb of grief. One night in the Big Horns, as bull elks trumpeted their wild, silvery mating-calls,76 he blurted out to Merrifield the details of his wife's death. He said that his pain was "beyond any healing." When Merrifield, who was also a widower, mumbled the conventional response, Roosevelt interjected, "Now don't talk to me about time will make a difference-time will never change me in that respect." he blurted out to Merrifield the details of his wife's death. He said that his pain was "beyond any healing." When Merrifield, who was also a widower, mumbled the conventional response, Roosevelt interjected, "Now don't talk to me about time will make a difference-time will never change me in that respect."77

ON 13 S SEPTEMBER, a nine-foot, twelve-hundred-pound grizzly reared up not eight paces in front of him: Doubtless my face was pretty white, but the blue barrel was as steady as a rock as I glanced along it until I could see the top of the bead fairly between his two sinister-looking eyes; as I pulled the trigger I jumped aside out of the smoke, to be ready if he charged; but it was needless, for the great brute was struggling in the death agony...the bullet hole in his skull was as exactly between his eyes as if I had measured the distance with a carpenter's rule.78 Feeling calm and purged, Roosevelt suddenly decided he would, after all, go back East to vote. He might even take part in the last few weeks of the campaign, and make a speech or two for Henry Cabot Lodge. In a letter to Bamie, written at Fort McKinney, Wyoming, on 20 September, he gave his first hint of paternal yearnings for Baby Lee: "I hope Mousiekins will be very cunning: I shall dearly love her."79 Impatience began to gather as the expedition creaked slowly homeward over three hundred miles of barren prairie. On 4 October, with seventy-five miles still to go, Roosevelt could stand the pace no longer. Leaving the wagon and extra ponies in care of his driver, he and Merrifield rode the remaining distance non-stop, by night.80 He allowed himself just one day to recover (having been in the saddle, almost continuously, for twenty-four hours) before riding another forty miles north to visit Sewall and Dow.81 They had unpleasant news for him: his forebodings of "trouble," after rejecting the Marquis's claim to the Elkhorn range, had been justified. E. G. Paddock-now more and more the power behind the throne of de Mores-had stopped by the ranch-site in late September, accompanied by several drunken gunmen. Finding Roosevelt away, the gang accepted lunch, sobered up, and rode off well stoked with beans and They had unpleasant news for him: his forebodings of "trouble," after rejecting the Marquis's claim to the Elkhorn range, had been justified. E. G. Paddock-now more and more the power behind the throne of de Mores-had stopped by the ranch-site in late September, accompanied by several drunken gunmen. Finding Roosevelt away, the gang accepted lunch, sobered up, and rode off well stoked with beans and bonhomie bonhomie. Since then, however, Paddock had begun to declare that the Elkhorn shack was rightfully his. If "Four Eyes" wished to buy it, he must pay for it in dollars-or in blood. Roosevelt, on hearing this, merely said, "Is that so?"82 Remounting his horse, he rode back upriver to Paddock's house at the railroad crossing. The gunman answered his knock. "I understand that you have threatened to kill me on sight," rasped Roosevelt. "I have come over to see when you want to begin the killing."

Paddock was so taken aback he could only protest that he had been "misquoted."83 Next morning Roosevelt left for New York, confident that from now on his ranch-site would be left in peace. Next morning Roosevelt left for New York, confident that from now on his ranch-site would be left in peace.

ON 11 O OCTOBER, a Sun Sun reporter found the former Assemblyman pacing restless and ruddy-faced around the library of 422 Madison Avenue, a glass of sherry in his hand, anxious to discuss campaign politics. "It is altogether contrary to my character," Roosevelt explained, with the frankness that endeared him to all newspapermen, "to occupy a neutral position in so important and so exciting a struggle." He added, rather wistfully, that it was "duty," not ambition, that brought him back East. "I myself am not a candidate for any office whatsoever-for the present at least." The reporter pressed for a comment on Grover Cleveland, and elicited the following exchange, in which Roosevelt's moral disdain for the Governor shone clear: reporter found the former Assemblyman pacing restless and ruddy-faced around the library of 422 Madison Avenue, a glass of sherry in his hand, anxious to discuss campaign politics. "It is altogether contrary to my character," Roosevelt explained, with the frankness that endeared him to all newspapermen, "to occupy a neutral position in so important and so exciting a struggle." He added, rather wistfully, that it was "duty," not ambition, that brought him back East. "I myself am not a candidate for any office whatsoever-for the present at least." The reporter pressed for a comment on Grover Cleveland, and elicited the following exchange, in which Roosevelt's moral disdain for the Governor shone clear: Q. What do you think of Mr. Cleveland as a candidate for President of the United States?A. I think that he is not a man who should be put in that office, and there is no lack of reasons for it. His public career, in the first place, and then private reasons as well. Of these personal questions I will not speak unless forced to, as Mr. Cleveland has always treated me with the utmost courtesy. But if, as I said, it should become necessary for me to discuss personal objections...84 During his seven subsequent campaign speeches-delivered between 14 October and 3 November, mainly in New York and in Lodge's Massachusetts constituency-Roosevelt avoided the ugly accusations of debauchery which Republicans everywhere were flinging at Cleveland. Respect for that decent gentleman still lurked within him. He managed, however, to make at least one sanctimonious reference to "the immorality of breaking the seventh commandment."85 Innuendo of this sort, from a man as genuinely puritanical as Roosevelt, might have been acceptable had it not been flavored with hypocrisy. Cleveland's sexual peccadillo signified little, in national opinion. The Governor had made no attempt to hide the details, and the scandal had begun to die down.86 On the other hand, Blaine's sins, as a Speaker who had used the powers of office to promote his own portfolio, could not be easily forgotten. There was no question as to which candidate was the morally inferior. Roosevelt's statement that he was a Republican, and therefore bound to support Blaine, was understandable. Yet it could have been made in a letter from Dakota, rather than repeated On the other hand, Blaine's sins, as a Speaker who had used the powers of office to promote his own portfolio, could not be easily forgotten. There was no question as to which candidate was the morally inferior. Roosevelt's statement that he was a Republican, and therefore bound to support Blaine, was understandable. Yet it could have been made in a letter from Dakota, rather than repeated ad nauseam ad nauseam all over the East, on platforms festooned with portraits of a man he despised. all over the East, on platforms festooned with portraits of a man he despised.87 In later years, Roosevelt's support of the Plumed Knight proved to be something of an embarrassment to his admirers, including that most ardent of them, himself. Nobody has ever satisfactorily reconciled Roosevelt's passionate antagonism to Blaine in May and June with his equally passionate partisanship in October and November, although it has been argued that in bowing to the will of the party he was simply acting as a complete political professional.88 His many statements of support and non-support, his promises of action and threats of inaction, were bewilderingly self-contradictory. No adulterer could more adroitly combine illicit lovemaking with matrimonial obligations than Roosevelt in his relations with both wings of the party in 1884. While seducing the Independents, he promised to remain faithful to the Stalwarts; after abandoning the former, he assured them it was not out of love for the latter. His many statements of support and non-support, his promises of action and threats of inaction, were bewilderingly self-contradictory. No adulterer could more adroitly combine illicit lovemaking with matrimonial obligations than Roosevelt in his relations with both wings of the party in 1884. While seducing the Independents, he promised to remain faithful to the Stalwarts; after abandoning the former, he assured them it was not out of love for the latter.

In his defense it must be said that he never sounded insincere. He genuinely believed that an Edmunds might represent the "good" in politics, but that only a Blaine, as President, could effectively bring that "good" about. Still it is hard to avoid the conclusion of one disgusted classmate: "The great good, of course, was Teddy."89

ON 20 O OCTOBER Roosevelt was annoyed to read a report, by one Horace White, of his off-the-record, post-convention remarks in a Chicago hotel five months before. White, it turned out, was the journalist to whom he had blustered, late on the night of Blaine's nomination, that "any proper Democratic nomination will have our hearty support." In an obvious attempt to expose Roosevelt as a turncoat, White chose to report the interview now, when the ex-Assemblyman was back in the public eye; to make the blow more personal, he did so in the correspondence columns of Roosevelt was annoyed to read a report, by one Horace White, of his off-the-record, post-convention remarks in a Chicago hotel five months before. White, it turned out, was the journalist to whom he had blustered, late on the night of Blaine's nomination, that "any proper Democratic nomination will have our hearty support." In an obvious attempt to expose Roosevelt as a turncoat, White chose to report the interview now, when the ex-Assemblyman was back in the public eye; to make the blow more personal, he did so in the correspondence columns of The New York Times The New York Times. Roosevelt could do little but protest in a letter of reply that "I was savagely indignant at our defeat...and so expressed myself in private conversation." He had "positively refused" to say anything for publication, "nor did I use the words that Mr. White attributes to me."90 But the damage to his reputation had been done. But the damage to his reputation had been done.

He consoled himself, in Boston, with the society of such intellectuals as William Dean Howells, Thomas Bailey Aldrich, and Oliver Wendell Holmes. These men came to a dinner at Lodge's in honor of Roosevelt's twenty-sixth birthday, and he glowed in the radiance of their conversation. "I do not know when I have enjoyed a dinner so much."91 As the campaign entered its final week, Blaine seemed poised for inevitable victory. His extraordinary personal magnetism had never been stronger. Audiences everywhere serenaded him with adoring choruses of "We'll Follow Where the White Plume Waves." The stolid Cleveland, meanwhile, droned on about the tariff and Civil Service Reform, trying to ignore catcalls of "Ma! Ma! Where's My Pa? Gone to the White House, Ha Ha Ha!"92 Then, in New York on 29 October, a garrulous Presbyterian minister, with Blaine standing at his side, publicly accused the Democratic party of representing "rum, Romanism, and rebellion." The candidate, who was only half-listening, did not react to this faux pas faux pas, and therefore seemed to condone it. An alert bystander reported the phrase to Cleveland headquarters, just one block away. Within hours it had been telegraphed to every Democratic newspaper in the country. Headlines and handbills amplified the insult a millionfold. Overnight Blaine's support among anti-prohibitionists, Catholics, and Southerners shrank away. In New York alone he lost an estimated fifty thousand votes.93 On Election Day, 4 November, Grover Cleveland became the nation's first Democratic President in a quarter of a century. On Election Day, 4 November, Grover Cleveland became the nation's first Democratic President in a quarter of a century.

IN A LETTER OF CONDOLENCE to Henry Cabot Lodge, whose bid for Congress had received a humiliating rejection in the polls, Roosevelt raged against "the cursed pharisaical fools and knaves who have betrayed us." to Henry Cabot Lodge, whose bid for Congress had received a humiliating rejection in the polls, Roosevelt raged against "the cursed pharisaical fools and knaves who have betrayed us."94 Evidently he ascribed the Republican defeat to Independent defectors, although every other political commentator in the country blamed it on the Presbyterian minister. The fact that he and Lodge had helped muster the Independents at Chicago, only to fall in behind the regular Republicans later, did not seem to indicate any betrayal on their part. Evidently he ascribed the Republican defeat to Independent defectors, although every other political commentator in the country blamed it on the Presbyterian minister. The fact that he and Lodge had helped muster the Independents at Chicago, only to fall in behind the regular Republicans later, did not seem to indicate any betrayal on their part.

But three days after this letter to Lodge, he wrote a mea culpa mea culpa which shows that all his essential decency and common sense had returned, if not yet his optimism. which shows that all his essential decency and common sense had returned, if not yet his optimism.

Of course it may be true that we have had our day; it is far more likely that this is true in my case than yours...Blaine's nomination meant to me pretty sure political death if I supported him; that I realized entirely, and went in with my eyes open. I have won again and again; finally chance placed me where I was sure to lose whatever I did; and I will balance the last against the first...I shall certainly not complain. I have not believed and do not believe that I shall ever be likely to come back into political life; we fought a good winning fight when our friends the Independents were backing us; and we have both of us, when circumstances turned them against us, fought the losing fight grimly out to the end. What we have been cannot be taken away from us; what we are is due to the folly of others; and to no fault of ours.95 In larger retrospect it may be seen that Roosevelt had done exactly the right thing, obeying the dictates of a political instinct so profound as to be almost infallible. He did not realize his luck, as he miserably returned to Dakota, but a Republican victory might have destroyed his chances of ever becoming President. The grateful Blaine would have offered him a government post, along with all the machine men who supervised the campaign; Roosevelt would thereafter have been associated with the corrupt Old Guard of the nineteenth century, rather than the enlightened Progressives of the twentieth. His decision not to "bolt" after Chicago was equally fortunate. Cleveland would not likely have rewarded him, and later Republican conventions would remember him as a man of doubtful loyalty.

All in all, a Republican defeat was the best thing that could have happened to Roosevelt in 1884. The fact that three alliterative words brought about that defeat only reinforces the conclusion that fate, as usual, was on his side. Not that he could be persuaded to see it that way. "The Statesman (?) of the past," he wrote Lodge from Maltese Cross, "has been merged, alas I fear for good, in the cowboy of the present."96

ON 16 N NOVEMBER, a spell of "white weather" settled down over the Badlands, as Roosevelt left his southern ranch and headed north to Elkhorn. His progress was slow that morning, for he had a beef herd to deliver to Medora. It was almost two o'clock before he concluded his business in town and rode on alone, with thirty-three miles to go.97 The wind in his face was achingly cold, especially on exposed plateaus when it combed grains of snow out of the grass and hurled them at him; the sensation was not unlike being whipped with sandpaper. His lungs (still occasionally troubled by asthma) gasped with every frigid breath, and his eyes throbbed in the glare of the sun. Descent into sheltered bottoms afforded some relief, but he took his life in his hands whenever he rode across the river. The ice was not yet solid. Should Manitou break through and douse him, it would be a serious matter, "for a wetting in such weather, with a long horseback journey to make, is no joke."

Darkness surprised him when he was scarcely halfway to his destination. For a while he cantered along in the starlight, listening to the muffled drumming of his horse's hooves, and "the long-drawn, melancholy howling of a wolf, a quarter of a mile off." Clouds soon reduced visibility to zero, and he was forced to seek shelter in an empty shack by the river. There was enough wood round about to build a roaring fire, but no food to cook; all he had was a paper of tea-leaves and some salt. "I should have liked something to eat, but as I did not have it, the tea did not prove such a bad substitute for a cold and tired man."

At dawn Roosevelt woke to the hoarse clucking of hundreds of prairie-fowl. Sallying forth with his rifle, he shot five sharptails. "It was not long before two of the birds, plucked and cleaned, were split open and roasted before the fire. And to me they seemed most delicious food."98 Exactly one month before he had been campaigning on the platform of Chickering Hall in New York, twisting his eyeglasses, catching bouquets, and blushing under the admiring gaze of bejeweled society matrons.99

SEWALL AND D DOW were felling trees for the ranch house when he galloped down into the Elkhorn bottom a few hours later. were felling trees for the ranch house when he galloped down into the Elkhorn bottom a few hours later.100 He seized an ax to assist them, much to their secret amusement, for Roosevelt was no lumberman. At the end of that day, he was chagrined to overhear Dow report to a cowpuncher: "Well, Bill cut down fifty-three, I cut forty-nine, and the boss, he beavered down seventeen." He seized an ax to assist them, much to their secret amusement, for Roosevelt was no lumberman. At the end of that day, he was chagrined to overhear Dow report to a cowpuncher: "Well, Bill cut down fifty-three, I cut forty-nine, and the boss, he beavered down seventeen."

"Those who have seen the stump of a tree which has been gnawed down by a beaver," Roosevelt commented wryly, "will understand the exact force of the comparison."101

THE COLD WORSENED as they started to erect the walls of the house. For two weeks temperatures hovered around minus 10 degrees Fahrenheit, plummeting at night to 50 degrees below zero. as they started to erect the walls of the house. For two weeks temperatures hovered around minus 10 degrees Fahrenheit, plummeting at night to 50 degrees below zero.102 Trees cracked and jarred from the strain of the frost, and the wheels of the ranch wagon sang on the marble-hard ground. Roosevelt's cattle huddled for warmth, with "saddles" of powdered snow lying across their backs and icicles hanging from their lips. He wondered that they did not die. At night the stars seemed to snap and glitter, coyotes howled with weird ventriloquial effects, and white owls hovered in the dark like snow-wreaths. Trees cracked and jarred from the strain of the frost, and the wheels of the ranch wagon sang on the marble-hard ground. Roosevelt's cattle huddled for warmth, with "saddles" of powdered snow lying across their backs and icicles hanging from their lips. He wondered that they did not die. At night the stars seemed to snap and glitter, coyotes howled with weird ventriloquial effects, and white owls hovered in the dark like snow-wreaths.103 Tactfully dissuaded from "helping" Sewall and Dow with construction, Roosevelt returned to Maltese Cross and tried to write the book he had been meditating upon all summer. But he was too cold, or too restless, to do more than a few thousand words.104 He read poetry, roamed the slippery slopes in pursuit of bighorn sheep, broke ponies, lunched at Chateau de Mores with the Marquis, and-ever the politician-campaigned up and down the valley to organize a Little Missouri Stockmen's Association. On one such trip he managed to freeze his face, one foot, both knees, and one hand. He read poetry, roamed the slippery slopes in pursuit of bighorn sheep, broke ponies, lunched at Chateau de Mores with the Marquis, and-ever the politician-campaigned up and down the valley to organize a Little Missouri Stockmen's Association. On one such trip he managed to freeze his face, one foot, both knees, and one hand.105 Despite all this activity, there were periods of depression, stimulated by the bleakness of the weather, which seemed so symbolic of the bleakness in his own life. He sensed a relationship between the iron in his soul and the iron in the landscape. The texture of the frozen soil, its ringing sound-effects, the blue metallic sheen of the Little Missouri, are images which recur obsessively in his writings about Dakota, with constant repetitions of the word iron, iron, iron iron, iron, iron. All these elements synthesized in one magnificent prose-poem, entitled simply "Winter Weather."

When the days have dwindled to their shortest, and the nights seem never-ending, then all the great northern plains are changed into an abode of iron desolation. Sometimes furious gales blow down from the north, driving before them the clouds of blinding snow-dust, wrapping the mantle of death round every unsheltered being that faces their unshackled anger. They roar in a thunderous bass as they sweep across the prairie or whirl through the naked canyons; they shiver the great brittle cottonwoods, and beneath their rough touch the icy limbs of the pines that cluster in the gorges sing like the chords of an aeolian harp. Again, in the coldest midwinter weather, not a breath of wind may stir; and then the still, merciless, terrible cold that broods over the earth like the shadow of silent death seems even more dreadful in its gloomy rigor than is the lawless madness of the storms. All the land is like granite; the great rivers stand still in their beds, as if turned to frosted steel. In the long nights there is no sound to break the lifeless silence. Under the ceaseless, shifting play of the Northern Lights, or lighted only by the wintry brilliance of the stars, the snow-clad plains stretch out into dead and endless wastes of glimmering white.106 With the New Year, and spring, and the return of the meadowlark to Dakota, his blood would begin to run warm again.

CHAPTER 12.

The Four-Eyed Maverick Then said Olaf, laughing,"Not ten yoke of oxenHave the power to draw usLike a woman's hair!"

THE HA-HA-HONK, HA-HONK HA-HA-HONK, HA-HONK of wild geese grew louder in his ears. With unfocused eyes he watched the V-shaped skein flying low and heavily overhead and settling about a mile upriver. Then he hunched again over Bamie's desk and scrawled, in his large, school-boyish hand, "I took the rifle instead of a shotgun and hurried after them on foot." of wild geese grew louder in his ears. With unfocused eyes he watched the V-shaped skein flying low and heavily overhead and settling about a mile upriver. Then he hunched again over Bamie's desk and scrawled, in his large, school-boyish hand, "I took the rifle instead of a shotgun and hurried after them on foot."1 Roosevelt had learned, that January of 1885, the old truism that writers write best when removed from the scene they are describing. At Elkhorn and Maltese Cross, he had been too much a part of his environment to re-create it on paper. Fleeing the reality of Dakota just before Christmas, he began to write almost immediately after arriving in New York.2 During the first nine weeks of the New Year, nearly a hundred thousand words poured from his pen; by 8 March, During the first nine weeks of the New Year, nearly a hundred thousand words poured from his pen; by 8 March, Hunting Trips of a Ranchman Hunting Trips of a Ranchman was finished. "I have just sent my last roll of manuscript to the printer," he told Cabot Lodge. While modest about the quality of his prose, Roosevelt declared that "the pictures will be excellent." was finished. "I have just sent my last roll of manuscript to the printer," he told Cabot Lodge. While modest about the quality of his prose, Roosevelt declared that "the pictures will be excellent."3 It is not known whether by this he meant the book's illustrations, or a series of publicity photographs of himself, in the full glory of his buckskin suit. It is not known whether by this he meant the book's illustrations, or a series of publicity photographs of himself, in the full glory of his buckskin suit.

"Now for the first time he could admire his recently completed house."

Sagamore Hill in 1885. (Illustration 12.1) One of these was chosen as frontispiece, and caused much hilarity when Hunting Trips Hunting Trips came out. came out.4 Bristling with cartridges, a silver dagger in his belt, Roosevelt stands with Winchester at the ready, against a studio backdrop of flowers and ferns. His moccasins are firmly planted on a mat of artificial grass. For some reason his spectacles have been allowed to dangle: although his finger is on the trigger, one doubts if he could so much as hit the photographer, let alone a distant grizzly. His expression combines pugnacity, intelligence, and a certain adolescent vulnerability which touched Lodge, at least, very tenderly.5

HUNTING T TRIPS WAS PUBLISHED WAS PUBLISHED by G. P. Putnam's Sons early in July, and dedicated "to that keenest of Sportsmen and truest of Friends, my Brother Elliott Roosevelt." by G. P. Putnam's Sons early in July, and dedicated "to that keenest of Sportsmen and truest of Friends, my Brother Elliott Roosevelt."6 The first edition, limited to five hundred copies, set new standards of lavishness in Americana. It was printed on quarto-size sheets of thick, creamy, hand-woven paper, with two-and-a-half-inch margins and sumptuous engravings. Bound in gray, gold-lettered canvas, it retailed at the then unheard-of price of $15, and quickly became a collector's item. The first edition, limited to five hundred copies, set new standards of lavishness in Americana. It was printed on quarto-size sheets of thick, creamy, hand-woven paper, with two-and-a-half-inch margins and sumptuous engravings. Bound in gray, gold-lettered canvas, it retailed at the then unheard-of price of $15, and quickly became a collector's item.7 The book was well reviewed on both sides of the Atlantic (the British Spectator Spectator said it "could claim an honorable place on the same shelf as Waterton's said it "could claim an honorable place on the same shelf as Waterton's Wanderings Wanderings and Walton's and Walton's Compleat Angler") Compleat Angler"), went through several editions, and was soon accepted as a standard textbook of big-game hunting in the United States.8 Roosevelt's first published work had also achieved textbook status, yet few critics could have guessed, without comparing title pages, that the same man had written both. Where Roosevelt's first published work had also achieved textbook status, yet few critics could have guessed, without comparing title pages, that the same man had written both. Where The Naval War of 1812 The Naval War of 1812 had been scholarly, dry, crammed with sterile statistics, had been scholarly, dry, crammed with sterile statistics, Hunting Trips Hunting Trips was lyrical, lush, and cheerfully rambling. was lyrical, lush, and cheerfully rambling.

It shows signs of being too hastily written. Anecdotes are repeated three times over, purplish tinges mar the otherwise crystal prose, thrilling chapters end in anticlimax. There are examples of Roosevelt's perennial tendency to praise himself with faint damns. Some zoological details are inaccurate,9 betraying the fact that the author had, after all, lived only a few parts of one year in Dakota. He is at pains, however, to give the impression that he is a leathery pioneer of many years' standing. betraying the fact that the author had, after all, lived only a few parts of one year in Dakota. He is at pains, however, to give the impression that he is a leathery pioneer of many years' standing.10 Less than half the text is about hunting as such. Although Roosevelt tells, with tremendous pace and gusto, the story of all his major expeditions, some of the best pages are those in which he muses on the beauty of the Badlands, the simple pleasures of ranch life, the joy of being young and free on the frontier. Except for an occasional outpouring of melancholy adjectives, he gives no indication that he was a brokenhearted man during most of these adventures. On the contrary, there is an abundance of lusty, sensuous images: the carpet-like softness of prairie roses under his horse's hooves, the smell of bear's blood on his hands, the taste of jerked beef after a mouthful of snow, and-most memorably-the warm freshness of a deer's bed, with its "blades of grass still slowly rising, after the hasty departure of the weight that has flattened them down."11 Roosevelt's characteristic auditory effects resonate on every page: from the "wild, not unmusical calls" of cowboys on night-herd duty, their voices "half-mellowed by the distance," to the "harsh grating noise" of a dying elk's teeth gnashing in agony. There are, to be sure, some vignettes that make non-hunters gag, such as that of a wounded blacktail buck galloping along "with a portion of his entrails sticking out...and frozen solid."12 But the overwhelming impression left after reading But the overwhelming impression left after reading Hunting Trips of a Ranchman Hunting Trips of a Ranchman is that of love for, and identity with, all living things. Roosevelt demonstrates an almost poetic ability to feel a bighorn's delight in its sinewy nimbleness, the sluggish timidity of a rattlesnake, the cool air on an unsaddled horse's back, the numb stiffness of a hail-bruised antelope. is that of love for, and identity with, all living things. Roosevelt demonstrates an almost poetic ability to feel a bighorn's delight in its sinewy nimbleness, the sluggish timidity of a rattlesnake, the cool air on an unsaddled horse's back, the numb stiffness of a hail-bruised antelope.

How such a lover of animals could kill so many of them (at the time of writing his lifetime tally was already well into the thousands) is a perhaps unanswerable question.13 But his bloodthirstiness, if it can be called that, was not unusual among men of his class and generation. Roosevelt hunted according to a strict code of personal morality. He had nothing but contempt for "the swinish game-butchers who hunt for hides and not for sport or actual food, and who murder the gravid doe and the spotted fawn with as little hesitation as they would kill a buck of ten points. No one who is not himself a sportsman and lover of nature can realize the intense indignation with which a true hunter sees these butchers at their brutal work of slaughtering the game, in season and out, for the sake of the few dollars they are too lazy to earn in any other and more honest way." But his bloodthirstiness, if it can be called that, was not unusual among men of his class and generation. Roosevelt hunted according to a strict code of personal morality. He had nothing but contempt for "the swinish game-butchers who hunt for hides and not for sport or actual food, and who murder the gravid doe and the spotted fawn with as little hesitation as they would kill a buck of ten points. No one who is not himself a sportsman and lover of nature can realize the intense indignation with which a true hunter sees these butchers at their brutal work of slaughtering the game, in season and out, for the sake of the few dollars they are too lazy to earn in any other and more honest way."14

ROOSEVELT'S ARDUOUS SPELL of writing in the early months of 1885 left him physically and emotionally drained. As usual when he was reduced to this condition, the of writing in the early months of 1885 left him physically and emotionally drained. As usual when he was reduced to this condition, the cholera morbus cholera morbus struck, delaying his scheduled departure for Dakota from 22 March to 14 April. Even then he looked so pale and dyspeptic above his high white collar that Douglas Robinson wrote ahead to Bill Sewall, saying that his sisters were worried about him, and asking for reports of his health. struck, delaying his scheduled departure for Dakota from 22 March to 14 April. Even then he looked so pale and dyspeptic above his high white collar that Douglas Robinson wrote ahead to Bill Sewall, saying that his sisters were worried about him, and asking for reports of his health.15 If Sewall was conscientious enough to obey, he would have replied that Roosevelt seemed determined to contract pneumonia after arriving back in Medora. Although the weather was still wintry, the Little Missouri was swollen with dirty thaw-water from upcountry. The only way to cross it was to ride between the tracks of the railroad trestles-unless one chose, like Roosevelt, to negotiate the submerged, slippery top of a dam farther downstream. "If Manitou gets his feet on that dam, he'll keep them there and we can make it finely," he told Joe Ferris.

But halfway across Manitou overbalanced, and to the horror of spectators, horse and rider disappeared into the hurtling river. When they surfaced a few moments later, Roosevelt was seen swimming beside Manitou, pushing ice-blocks out of the horse's way and splashing water in his face to guide him. They made the shore just in time to avoid being swept away completely: the next landing was more than a mile north.16 Roosevelt actually enjoyed the experience. A few days later he again swam across the river with Manitou, at a point where there were no spectators to rescue him. "I had to strike my own line for twenty miles over broken country before I reached home and could dry myself," he boasted to Bamie. "However it all makes me feel very healthy and strong."17

THE E ELKHORN R RANCH WAS NOW complete. complete.18 Roosevelt, exploring its eight spacious rooms, found that they measured up in every way to the descriptions he had already written of them. Bearskins and buffalo robes strewed the beds and couches; a perpetual fire of cottonwood logs reddened the hearthstone; stuffed heads cast monstrous shadows across the rough log walls; there were rifles in every corner, coonskin coats and beaver caps hanging from the rafters. Sturdy shelves groaned with the collected works of Irving, Hawthorne, Cooper, and Lowell, as well as his favorite light reading-"dreamy Ike Marvel, Burroughs's breezy pages, and the quaint, pathetic character-sketches of the Southern writers-Cable, Craddock, Macon, Joel Chandler Harris, and sweet Sherwood Bonner." It was still too cold to sit out in his rocking-chair ("What true American does not enjoy a rocking-chair?"), but he looked forward to many summer afternoons on the piazza, reading or just simply contemplating the view. "When one is in the Bad Lands he feels as if they somehow Roosevelt, exploring its eight spacious rooms, found that they measured up in every way to the descriptions he had already written of them. Bearskins and buffalo robes strewed the beds and couches; a perpetual fire of cottonwood logs reddened the hearthstone; stuffed heads cast monstrous shadows across the rough log walls; there were rifles in every corner, coonskin coats and beaver caps hanging from the rafters. Sturdy shelves groaned with the collected works of Irving, Hawthorne, Cooper, and Lowell, as well as his favorite light reading-"dreamy Ike Marvel, Burroughs's breezy pages, and the quaint, pathetic character-sketches of the Southern writers-Cable, Craddock, Macon, Joel Chandler Harris, and sweet Sherwood Bonner." It was still too cold to sit out in his rocking-chair ("What true American does not enjoy a rocking-chair?"), but he looked forward to many summer afternoons on the piazza, reading or just simply contemplating the view. "When one is in the Bad Lands he feels as if they somehow look look just exactly as Poe's tales and poems just exactly as Poe's tales and poems sound." sound."19 He was pleased to see that his cattle had apparently survived the harsh winter well. "Bill, you were mistaken about those cows. Cows and calves are all looking fine."

Nothing could shake Sewall's habitual pessimism. "You wait until next spring, and see how they look."20 Unfazed, Roosevelt sent Sewall and Dow to Minnesota, along with Sylvane Ferris, to help Merrifield bring back an extra fifteen hundred head. This latest purchase, amounting to $39,000, raised his total investment in the Badlands to $85,000, virtually half his patrimony. Coming on top of the $45,000 he had already spent at Leeholm, it made Roosevelt's family as nervous about his finances as about his health. Bamie asked for guarantees that the cattle venture would pay, but got only the unconvincing reply, "I honestly think that it will."21

THE NEW HERD ARRIVED in Medora on 5 May, and the bulk of it came north to Elkhorn under Roosevelt's personal supervision. Never before had he attempted to manage so many cattle, and the experience nearly killed him. Since the river was still dangerously high, he was forced to stay clear of the valley, and trek inland. On the third day out the cattle had no water at all. That night they bedded down obediently, but an hour or two later, when Roosevelt and a cowboy were standing guard, a thousand thirst-maddened animals suddenly heaved to their feet and stampeded. in Medora on 5 May, and the bulk of it came north to Elkhorn under Roosevelt's personal supervision. Never before had he attempted to manage so many cattle, and the experience nearly killed him. Since the river was still dangerously high, he was forced to stay clear of the valley, and trek inland. On the third day out the cattle had no water at all. That night they bedded down obediently, but an hour or two later, when Roosevelt and a cowboy were standing guard, a thousand thirst-maddened animals suddenly heaved to their feet and stampeded.

The only salvation was to keep them close together, as, if they once got scattered, we knew they could never be gathered; so I kept on one side, and the cowboy on the other, and never in my life did I ride so hard. In the darkness I could but dimly see the shadowy outlines of the herd, as with whip and spurs I ran the pony along its edge, turning back the beasts at one point barely in time to wheel and keep them in at another. The ground was cut up by numerous little gullies, and each of us got several falls, horses and riders turning complete somersaults. We were dripping with sweat, and our ponies quivering and trembling like quaking aspens, when, after more than an hour of the most violent exertion, we finally got the herd quieted again.22

PALE AND PATHETICALLY THIN, Theodore Roosevelt arrived at Box Elder Creek on 19 May to assist in the Badlands spring roundup. "You could have spanned his waist with your two thumbs and fingers," a colleague remembered. The cowboys looked askance at his toothbrush and razor and scrupulously neat bed-roll.23 There were the usual jibes about his glasses, which he submitted to with resigned dignity. "When I went among strangers I always had to spend twenty-four hours in living down the fact that I wore spectacles, remaining as long as I could judiciously deaf to any side remarks about 'four eyes,' unless it became evident that my being quiet was misconstrued and that it was better to bring matters to a head at once." There were the usual jibes about his glasses, which he submitted to with resigned dignity. "When I went among strangers I always had to spend twenty-four hours in living down the fact that I wore spectacles, remaining as long as I could judiciously deaf to any side remarks about 'four eyes,' unless it became evident that my being quiet was misconstrued and that it was better to bring matters to a head at once."24 He did not need to knock a man down during the next four weeks to win the respect of the cowboys-although there was one occasion when he told a Texan who addressed him as "Storm Windows" to "Put up or shut up."25 It soon became apparent that Roosevelt could ride a hundred miles a day, stay up all night on watch, and be back at work after a hastily gulped, It soon became apparent that Roosevelt could ride a hundred miles a day, stay up all night on watch, and be back at work after a hastily gulped, 3:00 A.M 3:00 A.M. breakfast. On one occasion he was in the saddle for nearly forty hours, wearing out five horses, and winding up in another stampede.26 He roped steers till his hands were flayed, wrestled calves in burning clouds of alkali-dust, and stuck "like a burr" to bucking ponies, while his nose poured blood and hat, guns, and spectacles flew in all directions. He roped steers till his hands were flayed, wrestled calves in burning clouds of alkali-dust, and stuck "like a burr" to bucking ponies, while his nose poured blood and hat, guns, and spectacles flew in all directions.27 One particularly vicious horse fell over backward on him, cracking the point of his left shoulder. There was no doctor within a hundred miles, so he continued to work "as best I could, until the injury healed of itself." It was weeks before he could raise his arm freely. One particularly vicious horse fell over backward on him, cracking the point of his left shoulder. There was no doctor within a hundred miles, so he continued to work "as best I could, until the injury healed of itself." It was weeks before he could raise his arm freely.28 "That four-eyed maverick," remarked one veteran puncher, "has sand in his craw a-plenty."29

THE ROUNDUP RANGED down the Little Missouri Valley for two hundred miles, fanning out east and west at least half as far again. During the five weeks that it lasted, sixty men riding three hundred horses coaxed some four thousand cattle out of the myriad creeks, coulees, basins, ravines and gorges of the Badlands, sorting them into proprietary herds and branding every calf with the mark of its mother. When Roosevelt withdrew from the action on 20 June, he had been with the roundup for thirty-two days, longer than most cowboys, and had ridden nearly a thousand miles. down the Little Missouri Valley for two hundred miles, fanning out east and west at least half as far again. During the five weeks that it lasted, sixty men riding three hundred horses coaxed some four thousand cattle out of the myriad creeks, coulees, basins, ravines and gorges of the Badlands, sorting them into proprietary herds and branding every calf with the mark of its mother. When Roosevelt withdrew from the action on 20 June, he had been with the roundup for thirty-two days, longer than most cowboys, and had ridden nearly a thousand miles.

"It is certainly a most healthy life," he exulted. "How a man does sleep, and how he enjoys the coarse fare!"30 Some extraordinary physical and spiritual transformation occurred during this arduous period. It was as if his adolescent battle for health, and his more recent but equally intense battle against despair, were crowned with sudden victory. The anemic, high-pitched youth who had left New York only five weeks before was now able to return to it "rugged, bronzed, and in the prime of health," to quote a newspaperman who met him en route. His manner, too, had changed. "There was very little of the whilom dude in his rough and easy costume, with a large handkerchief tied loosely about his neck...The slow, exasperating drawl and the unique accent that the New Yorker feels he must use when visiting a less blessed portion of civilization had disappeared, and in their place is a nervous, energetic manner of talking with the flat accent of the West."31 In New York, another reporter was struck by his "sturdy walk and firm bearing."32 Roosevelt's own habitual assertion that he felt "as brown and tough as a hickory knot" at last carried conviction. All references to asthma and Roosevelt's own habitual assertion that he felt "as brown and tough as a hickory knot" at last carried conviction. All references to asthma and cholera morbus cholera morbus disappear from his correspondence. He was now, in the words of Bill Sewall, "as husky as almost any man I have ever seen who wasn't dependent on his arms for his livelihood." disappear from his correspondence. He was now, in the words of Bill Sewall, "as husky as almost any man I have ever seen who wasn't dependent on his arms for his livelihood."33 Throughout that summer Roosevelt continued to swell with muscle, health, and vigor. William Roscoe Thayer, who had not seen him for several years, was astonished "to find him with the neck of a Titan and with broad shoulders and stalwart chest." Thayer prophesied that this magnificent specimen of manhood would have to spend the rest of his life struggling to reconcile the conflicting demands of a powerful mind and an equally powerful body.34

SUMMER WAS but five days old, and the sea breeze blew cool as Roosevelt's carriage circled Oyster Bay and began to ascend the green slopes of Leeholm. Now, for the first time, he could admire his recently completed house. Huge, angular, and squat, it sat on the grassy hilltop with all the grace of a fort. Bamie's gardeners had planted vines, shrubs, and saplings in an effort to refine its silhouette, but years would pass before leaves mercifully screened most of the house from view. but five days old, and the sea breeze blew cool as Roosevelt's carriage circled Oyster Bay and began to ascend the green slopes of Leeholm. Now, for the first time, he could admire his recently completed house. Huge, angular, and squat, it sat on the grassy hilltop with all the grace of a fort. Bamie's gardeners had planted vines, shrubs, and saplings in an effort to refine its silhouette, but years would pass before leaves mercifully screened most of the house from view.35 As Roosevelt drew nearer, its newness and rawness became more apparent. The mustard-colored shingles had not yet mellowed, and the green trim clashed with florid brick and garish displays of stained glass. However, flowers were clustering around the piazza, last year's lawns had come up thick and velvety, and spring rains had washed away the last traces of construction dirt.36 Roosevelt might be excused a surge of proprietary emotion. Roosevelt might be excused a surge of proprietary emotion.

Looking south across the bay toward Tranquillity (rented to others now, but still a symbol, in its antebellum graciousness, of Mittie), he could see the beach where "dem web-footed Roosevelts" used to run down to bathe; the private, reedy channels where he rowed little Edie Carow; the tidal waters where he and Elliott had once joyously battled a snowy northeaster and there, snaking west to the station, was the lane along which Theodore Senior used to speed, his linen duster ballooning out behind him. At nearer points, through the trees, could be seen the summerhouses of cousins and uncles and aunts. If there were some hillside walks, and a tennis court or two, that Roosevelt could not contemplate without being painfully reminded of his honeymoon, he had at last developed the strength to deal with allusive memories.37 In token of that strength, he decided that the name Leeholm must be changed. Henceforth his house would commemorate the Indian sagamore sagamore, or chieftain, who had held councils of war here two and a half centuries before.38 He would call it Sagamore Hill. He would call it Sagamore Hill.

ROOSEVELT ALLOWED HIMSELF eight idyllic weeks in the East during the summer of 1885-his first period of relaxation in two years. Fanny Smith, now married to a Commander Dana and recovering from a miscarriage, was one of the many guests he invited to stay at Sagamore Hill. Although unable to take part in a frenetic schedule of outdoor activities, such as portaging across mosquito-infested mud flats and tumbling down Cooper's Bluff into the sea, she was able to enjoy the stimulating conversation at Bamie's dinner table. "Especially memorable were the battles, ancient and modern, which were waged relentlessly on the white linen tablecloth with the aid of such table-silver as was available." Theodore's penchant for military history made her feel "that Hannibal lived just around the corner." eight idyllic weeks in the East during the summer of 1885-his first period of relaxation in two years. Fanny Smith, now married to a Commander Dana and recovering from a miscarriage, was one of the many guests he invited to stay at Sagamore Hill. Although unable to take part in a frenetic schedule of outdoor activities, such as portaging across mosquito-infested mud flats and tumbling down Cooper's Bluff into the sea, she was able to enjoy the stimulating conversation at Bamie's dinner table. "Especially memorable were the battles, ancient and modern, which were waged relentlessly on the white linen tablecloth with the aid of such table-silver as was available." Theodore's penchant for military history made her feel "that Hannibal lived just around the corner."