CHAPTER IV.
"HITTING THE TRAIL."
The Custer massacre threw the whole country into a spasm of fear.
The killing of three hundred trained fighters and a general, allrenowned for their daring and knowledge of Indian warfare, must give theenemy a confidence that would be hard to overcome.
Every one wondered where the next blow would be struck and who would bethe next victim. All enterprises were checked, all peaceful journeyspostponed. Not till the autumn of the following year was it deemed safefor the Worth family to carry out their plan of "pulling up stakes" andleaving Bismarck.
During the year which had elapsed John and Ben had grown in mind andbody. They were sturdy, strong boys, and were a great help to theirfather. Perfectly able to take care of the stock, they could ride likecentaurs and shoot with their "guns" (as the Westerner calls hisrevolver) with astonishing accuracy. They used to practice at tomatocans fifty yards away and soon became so expert that for nearly everyshot a neat round hole appeared in the tin. If you think this easy, tryit. One can will probably last you a long while.
Long before, Charley Green had made a formal request to be included inthe migrating party and had been accepted. He was really quite avaluable man now, for he had been tried in a number of ticklish placesand had shown a solid strength and coolness in the face of danger.
One bright autumn day the pilgrimage began.
Several men were to accompany the family to a mine that had already beenlocated fifty miles away. Here the winter was to be spent, and then, ifall went well, another mine might be opened further westward.
The final preparations for moving were soon complete. The householdgoods were packed into the great lumbering prairie wagons, canvas-toppedand wide of beam; the little log-built shack was left intact, its rough,heavy door swinging open.
The frontiersman's household outfit was very simple. The beddingconsisted of blankets; cooking utensils of iron and tin, dining-tablefurniture of the same materials, a few chairs, a table or two, and thebaby's crib completed the list. The Worth family had the largest libraryin town. It contained their great, brass-bound Bible, "Pilgrim'sProgress," the Catechism (and how the boys dreaded it!), "RobinsonCrusoe," "Scott's Poems," and the "Arabian Nights." These precious bookswere of course taken along, for though the boys' father read little andlacked even the rudiments of education, he had the pride of ownership.
It can be seen at once that this simple collection of necessaries wouldnot take long to pack and load. Charley Green remarked that "the wholeoutfit wouldn't be considered security enough for a week's board inBoston."
"That's true," answered Mr. Worth, as he lifted the sewing machine (theonly one for miles and miles around) tenderly into the wagon. "But ourhousehold stuff is considered very fine, and people come from longdistances to use this sewing machine."
"The first of May can't have any terrors for you," persisted theex-collegian.
Mr. Worth frowned a little, for although Charley's fun was good-natured,he had a keen dislike to being ridiculed, and had always beenaccustomed to considering his equipment as something rather grand--asindeed it was, compared with his less fortunate neighbors.
After a final glance around to see that nothing had been left, the headof the family put his wife and baby into the first wagon, but beforeclimbing in himself he called out to John and Ben to go back to thecorral, saddle two of the horses, and drive the remaining ones after thewagon train.
The two boys were soon busy catching and saddling the horses. As Johnwas "cinching" up Baldy, he heard the snap of his father's longblack-snake whip and the creak of the heavy wheels. Then for the firsttime he realized that the only home he had ever known was to be leftpermanently. The old place suddenly became very dear to him, and thethought of leaving it was hard to bear; in fact, he had to bury his facein Baldy's rough, unkempt side to hide the tears that would come despitehis efforts.
Ben, on the contrary, was very cheerful and whistled between thesentences of talk he flung at his brother. The two years' difference intheir ages showed very plainly in this matter.
"Here, get a move on you, John," he shouted, "my horse's all ready."
The older boy bestirred himself, and in the rush and hurry thatfollowed he soon forgot his momentary regret.
When they caught up with the wagons they found the procession headedtoward the centre of the settlement and almost in its outskirts.
The town had grown considerably both in population and area since wefirst saw it, and ordinarily the departure of a freighter's outfit wouldexcite but little remark. The exodus of the Worths, however--one of thefew families, and one of the very first settlers--was quite an event.Many of their friends were on hand to wish them good speed. The boysfelt like "lords of creation" indeed. Were they not bound on a journeyof unknown duration, liable to have all sorts of delightful adventures?They held their heads up and pitied their boy friends who were to beleft behind--and it must be confessed that the stay-at-homes pitiedthemselves.
The wagon train made its way slowly down to the river, where the sheriffbade them good-by.
"I'm sorry to have you go," he said, nodding to Mr. and Mrs. Worth. "Andthose kids of yours," he added, "I wish you could leave them behind; itwill be pretty tough on them, and besides, I'm fond of the littlebeggars. However," he went on, as the boys' father shook his head, "Isuppose you know what you're doing. Well, good luck. So long."
"So long," replied the travellers in chorus.
The whole outfit was ferried over the river, passed through the littlevillage of Mandan clustered around the fort, and then struck out acrossthe open prairie. It made quite a procession, the light wagon in front,drawn by two horses and driven by Worth, then a long string of muleteams hitched to the first of a train of prairie schooners, whose whitecanvas-hooped tops shone in the sun. The cooking utensils in thevehicles and hung under them banged and clattered, the wheels creaked,the teamsters' long whips, which took two hands to wield, cracked andsnapped.
At the head of the party rode Charley Green, with his long-earedcharges, busy at his self-imposed task of "mule-wrangling." He was newto the business, and it seemed as if the beasts he was herding wereaware of this. For a while all would go smoothly, the animals closelybunched, heads down, ears drooped forward, the picture of innocence anddejection; then suddenly a lanky brute would start out from one side asif propelled from a gun, and no sooner had Charley dug the spurs intohis pony in his efforts to head it off than another mule would startoff on the other side. Then the whole bunch would scatter, radiatingfrom a common centre like the spokes of a wheel. John, Ben, and one ofthe men (called Tongue-Tied Ted, because of his few words) took a handin the game at last, and together they rounded up the stock into acompact bunch again.
All this was very amusing for the old hands, but Charley did not seem toenjoy it.
"Mule-wrangling is no snap," he grumbled. "Why, it's easier to stop awhole rush line than to take care of that gang of long-eared,rail-backed, dirt-colored, knock-kneed horse imitators."
He had to tackle the job alone, however, for only by experience could helearn, and experience is a hard and thorough teacher.
The boys trotted alongside, now riding far ahead, now making theirponies show off near the wagons. Excursions were made from time to timeto shoot at prairie dogs, rabbits, and coyotes. But even this grewmonotonous after a while, and they began to cast about in their mindsfor amusement. "Let's go to the river where it makes a bend over thereand take a swim," said Ben, at last.
It was no sooner said than done. They were left to look out forthemselves much of the time, so they went off without saying a word toany one.
Soon the caravan was lost to view, and after a few minutes' more ridingeven the shouts of the men and the barking of the dogs could not beheard.
The boys had that delightful feeling of entire freedom and half fearwhich comes to the inexperienced thrown upon their own resources. Theprairie was perfectly still and the heat was scorching, for the sun w
asstill high. It was a little awesome, and for a minute John and Benwished they were back with their friends. The thought of a cool dip wasvery enticing, however, and they would both have been ashamed to turnback now, so they cantered along, keeping up each other's courage byshouting and laughing. Reaching the river, they scrambled down the steepslope, leaving their horses to graze on the level, and in a jiffy wereenjoying a swim in the "Big Muddy." The bottom was free from quicksands,so the brothers enjoyed themselves to their hearts' content.
They swam, ducked, and dug in the mud, as full of glee as could be. Foran hour or more they revelled in their sport; then John dropped thehandful of dirt he was about to throw and looked around, half scared."Hallo," he said, "it's getting dark. We'd better get a move on." Theyslid into their clothes as only boys can, and in a few seconds hadregained the top of the bank.
The sun, a fiery red ball, was low down in the western sky and almostready to drop out of sight altogether.
"Why!" exclaimed Ben. "Where are the horses?"
They looked hurriedly around and then scanned the rolling prairie andsage bushes in every direction.
But the horses were not to be seen. Nor was the wagon train in sight.Not a living thing was visible on the horizon; not a sound could beheard anywhere. On every side there were only monotonous clumps of sage,and the sun was getting lower and lower every moment.
They rushed to a knoll and searched again. All around stretched theprairie--bare, still, hopeless. Then they looked at each other for thefirst time. Ben began to whimper.
"Come, brace up," said John, taking the elder brother's part. "I knowthe trail; we'll catch up to them in no time."
His tone was cheerful, but he appeared more at ease than he really was.It was not a pleasant situation for even a full-grown man, one wellversed in the signs of the plains, its landmarks, and deceptions.
THE TAIL OF THE COOK'S WAGON WAS LET DOWN.
(_Page 276._)]
The boys were in an unfamiliar section of the country, without food ormeans of transportation, at nightfall. Their lessons of self-reliancestood them in good stead now, and they started off bravely, strikingaway from the river in the direction of the wagon trail. After walking ahalf hour they came across the distinct deep rut of wagons.
This was a great encouragement; it was like a friendly grasp of thehand, for they felt that they were now in touch with men and livingthings, though neither was within sight or sound.
Only the palest kind of twilight now remained, but the trail could beseen quite distinctly and both boys took heart.
"I'd give my gun for a piece of jerked buffalo meat," said Ben.
"Well, I wouldn't mind munching a bean myself," replied his brother."But say, won't that feed taste good when we get to the camp? Just thinkof that big fire with the men lying around it, and the wagons drawn in acircle outside all."
"Oh, stop," broke in Ben, peevishly. "I'm hungry enough and tired enoughalready, and your talk makes me ten times worse."
Hour after hour they tramped along, their courage ebbing with everystep. Expecting when they reached the crest of each little rise to seethe bustling camp at the foot of the slope, each time they again took upthe weary march with a heavier load of disappointment and uneasiness.
Thirst, as well as hunger, now began to attack them. It was dry weather,and the dust rose into their faces as they walked, tickling throat andnose, and causing the greatest discomfort. From time to time theylingered to rest, but when they stopped the darkness frightened them,and the awful stillness, broken only by the wailing howl of a coyote andthe low moan of the rising wind, drove them on relentlessly.
At last Ben declared that he couldn't go any further, but as soon asthey stopped his courage failed him and he burst into tears. Johncomforted him as well as he could, but he was himself at his wits' ends.
"Come along, old man," he urged after a while, "let's have one more tryat it."
Again they started off wearily and slowly, John with an arm about hisyounger brother. They had walked only a few minutes when Ben felt hisbrother's arm clasp him tighter and heard him give a hoarse shout.
He strained his eyes ahead. There in the darkness was an indistinctmoving mass. They redoubled their efforts, and presently discovered thatit was a wagon drawn by a single team that seemed hardly able to standand moved forward at a snail's pace.
"Did you see anything of a freight outfit along the trail to-night?"said John huskily to the driver.
The man half raised himself from his lounging position. "Freightoutfit?" said he, sleepily. "No."
Then he woke up a little more as Ben broke into tears again. Perceivingtheir woebegone appearance, he sat erect, and for the first time took inthe situation. "Why, what are you kids doin' here this time of night?Where's your horses? Where's your people?"
John told the story in a few words, while Ben, quite overcome, leanedhis head against his brother's arm and went fast asleep standing up."And haven't you had anything to eat since noon?" queried the driver inwonder.
"No, nor nothing to drink," answered John, his voice shaking a little inspite of himself at the remembrance.
"Well, I'm sorry, but I'm afraid I can't help you much. I haven't got abit of grub myself. Thought I would only be out a little while, andexpected to reach the rest of my outfit by dinner time, so I didn'tbring any feed myself. One of my nags gave out, so I couldn't catch theteams. I guess I can give you a little lift, anyhow. But see here!" heejaculated, "I guess you're on the wrong trail, ain't you? Your folksmust have took the other branch way back yonder; they wouldn't be likelyto come over this side."
Brave John collapsed at this. He and Ben had been travelling all thisweary time in the wrong direction!
"Never you mind, sonny," said the man, kindly. "We'll find some way outof it," he went on after a minute's silence; "those trails join againafter a piece. Perhaps you may meet your outfit there. This branchfollows a bend in the river, while the other cuts across country andmeets it. See?"
"Yes, sir," said John, dejectedly.
"Come, help me get this team of mine started; you'll be sure to findyour outfit camped near the fork; there's good water there and they'llwait for you."
Encouraged once more by his words, John lifted Ben bodily and laid himin the wagon. Then, after a good deal of urging with voice and whip, hegot the worn-out team in motion.
For half an hour they moved along without a word being spoken; theirnew friend relapsed into his huddled-up position, Ben lay asleep in thebottom of the wagon, and John communed with himself. He wondered whathis mother thought of their absence, and he felt the responsibility ofan elder brother. He knew that the horses would turn up riderless, andthat his father would send back over the trail that had been covered bythe train, but would not find them. The thought of their anxiety madehim doubly impatient at the slow progress made. He longed for Baldy togallop on and set their minds at rest. Still, they moved along at a pacelittle faster than a walk. Each step of the weary beasts seemed as if itmust be the last.
At length John, who was the only person awake, noticed that the offhorse began to sway as he stumbled along. He roused the man at his sideand told him he thought the animal was about done for. But the words ofwarning were hardly out of his mouth when the poor beast dropped like alump, made a few fruitless attempts to regain his feet, and then layquiet.
Here was a pretty mess for all hands!
The man, with one fagged horse and one almost as bad, ten miles fromcamp, with no food or water, on a trail over which hardly any onepassed.
The boys, footsore from the long tramp, with a gnawing hunger andparching thirst and nothing to satisfy either, their destination theyknew not how far off, and no means of reaching it other than afoot.
There was but one thing to do: set out once more and trust to Providencethat the camp would be found at the junction of the two trails and thattheir strength would hold out long enough to accomplish the journey.
John promised to send some one back with horses and
food, if thestranger did not turn up within a reasonable time, and the youngstersthen resumed their weary march, John almost carrying his brother.
The moon had come out and showed the boys the deeply marked road. Theyhad but to follow the track, so it became simply a question of enduranceand pluck. The simple, hardy life they had always led, and the constantexposure to heat and cold had toughened their little bodies and hadgiven them a reserve fund of strength which now responded to the callupon their utmost powers. Strained as every faculty was, they plodded ondoggedly, hour after hour. Just after midnight they topped a littlerise, and involuntarily cried out in unison. There ahead of them was ablaze that gave them new life. They had reached the junction of the twotrails, and the camp. The wagons were drawn in a circle just as they hadpictured to themselves, the camp fire was burning brightly in a shallowpit (to prevent its spread to the surrounding prairie) and some of themen, wrapped in their blankets, were lying like long, bumpy bundles onthe ground, while a bunch of mules were feeding at a little distance,guarded by the "night wrangler."
In the centre of the enclosure, where the ruddy light of the campfirebrought out their anxious faces in strong relief, stood the boys' fatherand mother. John and Ben ran forward as fast as their tired legs couldcarry them. They shouted--as loud as their dry, dust-coated throatswould allow.
It made them gulp simultaneously to see how the expression of the twofaces changed; the woman's growing wholly tender and joyful, the man'saltered to that of relief rather than joy. John knew from pastexperience that while the mother would be glad to comfort and caress,the father would not permit any such soft treatment. They would be luckyif they got off with a sharp rebuke.
Mrs. Worth rushed to meet them, but her husband restrained her. "Youboys go over to the cook-wagon and get something to eat, then turn in.We've got to get off soon after daybreak. I'll see what you have to sayfor yourselves to-morrow."
The cold supper John and Ben indulged in that night would probably notinterest the ordinary pet dog of your acquaintance. It consisted ofcold, greasy pork and beans, poor cold coffee without milk, and soggybread, but they thought it was food fit for the gods. Hunger satisfiedand thirst quenched, they were glad enough to curl under a wagon, ablanket their only covering and a saddle for a pillow.
Before getting to sleep they heard the teamster who had befriended themcome into camp; his team had revived enough to painfully cover theremaining distance to the Worths' outfit.
They had hardly dozed off, it seemed to them, when they heard the cook'sshrill call, "Grub p-i-i-i-le," and knew that breakfast was ready andall hands must be astir.
After the blankets had been made into a neat roll and put away in awagon, breakfast was despatched promptly, for cook, even on thefrontier, is an autocratic person, not to be kept waiting.
The meal was much like the supper of the previous night, except that thefood was hot. The boys then went down to the creek and soaked off thedust that had gathered during their long tramp. In an incredibly shorttime the train had broken camp and was on the move again. The cook's fewdishes and pots were given a hasty rinse in the creek and packed, themules and horses driven in, and the fresh ones harnessed and saddled.The "day wrangler" took the place of the "night wrangler," who promptlylay down in one of the wagons and went to sleep.
The procession fairly moving, John and his brother were called up toexplain their absence of the afternoon and night before. This John didwith fear and trembling, for he feared his father's wrath. He got off,however, with a severe reprimand and positive orders not to go out ofsight of the wagons at any time, and the boys went off congratulatingthemselves on their lucky escape.
All that day the caravan travelled steadily, stopping only at noon fordinner and for water. Towards evening they came near their destination,reaching a clear creek bordered with green. Up from the stream rose ahill, and half way up was a strange-looking house, part of which seemedto be buried in the side of the slope.
The boys were somewhat surprised when they were told that this was to betheir home for the winter.
"Look, John," exclaimed Ben, "we're going to live in a hole in theground."
Cattle-Ranch to College Page 6