The Turnbo Manuscripts
by Silas Claiborne Turnbo
1844-1925
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A NIGHT ATTACK BY WOLVES ON A LONELY TRAILWAY
By S. C. Turnbo
In 1857 a stranger came into Ozark County, Missouri, and lived awhile
at Hugh McClure’s on Little North Fork. He said his name was Every
Milton. Nobody knew his native land but he was supposed to be a Cuban. In
a short while after his arrival he began the practice of medicine and proved
to be a successful practitioner. He also began delivering lectures on different
subjects. He was intelligent and fairly educated. Tommy Norris, a minister
of the Freewill Baptist Church who lived on Little Creek, a tributary of
Little North Fork, organized a church on White River below mouth of Big
Creek and held meeting from time to time at the settlers’ houses. Most
of his preaching was done at Asa Yocum’s. A day or two before the appointed
time for meeting Norris, whether riding or walking, would leave home carrying
his rifle, Bible and hymn book. Occasionally he would slay several deer
on the way and take off the hides and carry them with him and leave the
dead deer for the use of the buzzard and ravenous beasts. Settlers would
collect from 10 to 15 miles around to attend these meetings. Norris was
a devoted man in religious matters and was popular among the old timers.
He labored hard on the farm and was found dead one afternoon lying between
his plow handles. He was buried in the Norris graveyard on Little Creek
4 miles above Thornfield. Dr. Every Milton was often present at Norris’s
meetings on the river and usually delivered a short lecture. In the summer
of 1859 he delivered a peculiar discourse at Asa Yocum’s. It was on
a Sunday and a large assembly of people gathered to hear him. His subject
was "the future Civil War." He said in part that the war would
come and that it would be a terrible struggle between the great warriors
of the north and south. Figuratively speaking the blood would run to the
bridle reins of the chargers. "War will continue 4 years, said he.
"The destruction of lives and property will be appalling. The southern
army will be crushed. The people destitute and the country left desolate."
Though the war began one year sooner than he claimed it would, but take
it all together, it was a remarkable prophecy. In 1862 Milton was arrested
and taken to Springfield, Mo., where he lay in prison a few months and was
released. He died on upper Turkey Creek of Little North Fork on Christmas
Day, 1862. In the early part of 1861 Dr. Milton lived at the mouth of Big
Creek and rode far and near to wait on the sick. While he was residing here
he met with a serious adventure with wolves, one night while on his way
home from visiting a patient. The writer was told the story by Milton himself.
He said that one afternoon he rode to Little North Fork to see John Copelin
who was sick and lived on the next farm above the old Paton Keesee place.
"The road from my house to Copelin’s was a dim trail. It was some
time after nightfall when I left Copelin’s for home. My black dog was
with me I called Catch. Among other medicine in my pocket case was a lump
of assafeatida gum. It was after the first quarter of the moon in the month
of February. The night was cool but not unpleasant. I had passed over this
trail before and knew every crook and turn of it. While I was riding over
the divide between head of Pine Hollow that flows into Little North Fork
and the head of a hollow that flows into Cedar Creek (where the Dugginsville
and Pontiac road now passes—writer) I was suddenly attacked by a pack
of vicious wolves which had been howling near me while I was passing over
the glade before reaching the top of the ridge. The creatures surrounded
my horse and sprang at the dog. The latter dodged under the horse. Two of
the wolves rushed under the horse’s belly to catch the dog. The latter
again avoided them by dashing around under the horse’s head. By this
time my horse was almost unmanageable, but I contrived to prevent him from
running away with me. I yelled at the top of my voice to frighten the wolves
away but they paid no attention to me. In a few seconds they caught the
dog and the whole gang flew onto him to rend him to pieces. The dying noise
of the poor dog was heard plainly above the snarls and growls of the wolves.
Though I was terribly scared but my dog was a favorite and my blood warmed
with anger. I hastily dismounted and holding the bridle with my left hand
I plunged the blade of my dirk knife into one of the wolves. The animal
sank down. I stabbed and kicked others and drove them back a few feet from
the dog. I was too late to save the canine for he lay dying. My blood boiled
at the loss of him. With the vengeance of an Indian warrior I grabbed the
ears of the dying wolf I had first struck with the knife and cut and tore
off his scalp. At this moment the hungry pack began snapping at me so furiously
that I did not take time to put the wolf scalp in my pocket but held it
and the knife in my hands while I mounted my bad scared horse and left the
spot in a fast run. The wolves or part of them gave pursuit. My horse needed
no urging from me. He almost seemed to fly along that dim pathway and how
I escaped the limbs of the trees which hung over the trail I never could
account for. The wolves seemed to fly too and I believed they would take
me and the horse both down. Then I remembered the assafeatida and reaching
around I jerked my medical packets from under me and dropped them on the
ground and galloped on. The voracious animals halted and I heard them fighting
and growling, but I was not long in getting out of hearing distance. I reached
home without further molestation. I went back the following day in company
with other men and recovered my pockets but the wolves had got the flaps
unfastened and several vials of medicine lay scattered about on the ground.
The assafeatida was gone. Further on where I was first attacked I found
a few remnants of my trusty dog and also the carcass of the scalped wolf."
Dr. Milton was a tall slender man. Mr. Norris was also a famed hunter.
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