Off To See The Wild West Show Part 1, Chapter 11 (2/4) By Frank Beill 1886: Hull, Yorkshire

(1/4), (2/4), (3/4), (4/4). Part 1 Chapter 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20. Part 2 Prologue, Chapter 1, 2, 3.

The interpreter turned back to us and gave another broken toothed grin. 'The chief reckons you boys have been put in a prison. He wants to know what you've done wrong to anger the great white queen.' Nelson went back into conversation with Red Shirt and his band, which led to much shaking of heads and mumbling among the warriors. 'They ain't happy.' John Nelson stated what was obvious, even to two naïve young boys. ''Cos a child has lost its folks don't mean it should be locked away.

Well, not in a Sioux tribe anyhows. They'd join another family and be brung up as their young uns.' Broken teeth appeared again and he gave a chesty cough before laughing. 'And we calls 'em savages!' There was much talking in their language. Frequently, John Nelson shook his head vigorously and broke into English. The exasperated words 'No, chief! You can't do that!' were heard more than once. After a great deal of deliberation the American turned back to us. 'I reckons you boys could do with some vittles.' We nodded in agreement. Sal's bread and cheese was long forgotten. 'How's about some bacon and beans ... washed down with some real American coffee?'

He must have seen us licking our lips at this suggestion. He slipped in between us and the warriors, all the while talking and gesticulating to our captors. 'Follow me, boys.' There was no resistance from us to being led in the direction of the smells wafting from the food marquees and so we left Red Shirt and his men deep in their deliberations.

The tempting odour of cooking food was completely overwhelming us. Through the marquee entrance we could see long trestle tables and benches at which sat American and Mexican cowboys eating and talking together. I half expected to see a Wild West version of Mrs G. serving up food but to my surprise this was an all male domain. Immediately all thoughts of the orphanage and the Sioux were gone and I was in a buffalo hunters' camp out on the trail. 'What was the chief asking?' Unlike me George's mind was still in Hull. John Nelson hustled us towards moustachioed men in check shirts and white aprons who were ladling out food from huge iron pans. The size of these cooking pots was even bigger than the ones used by Mrs G. 'Said he wants to speak to 'Grand Mother England.' That's what he calls your Queen Victoria, 'bout settin' you free.' He gave a nod to a man who looked to be in charge of the empire of nourishment. The head victualler was as broad as he was tall and he wore the loudest red and white check shirt I'd ever seen.

'Give these young uns a real cowboy meal.' Nelson half turned his head back to us. 'The chief met your majesty when we was down in London.' Somehow I didn't think this was all Red Shirt said to him, but my attention was drawn to the heavy clunk of two blue enamel plates landing on the serving table. Mountains of baked beans were heaped on top of rashers of bacon with enormous gleaming brown sausages sticking out from the mounds of food like naval cannon. On top of it all fried eggs perched like saucy French berets.

'Do you drink coffee, boys?' We nodded our assent to John Nelson's question, although neither of us had ever tasted the beverage before. We weren't going to turn down the opportunity to sample the thing real western men drank. 'Sit yourselves down, boys and eat up.'

Continued... Next Page (3/4)

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