CHAPTER VII.
AT THE DIVIDING OF THE WAYS.
The military road, of which I have just spoken, was constructed by theUnited States Government to connect the military posts of the Far Westwith one another. Beginning at Fort Leavenworth, on the MissouriRiver, it passed through Fort Riley at the junction of the forks ofthe Kaw, and then, still keeping up the north side of the RepublicanFork, went on to Fort Kearney, still farther west, then to FortLaramie, which in those days was so far on the frontier of our countrythat few people ever saw it except military men and the emigrants toCalifornia. At the time of which I am writing, there had been a veryheavy emigration to California, and companies of emigrants, bound tothe Golden Land, still occasionally passed along the great militaryroad.
Interlacing this highway were innumerable trails and wagon-tracks, thetraces of the great migration to the Eldorado of the Pacific; and hereand there were the narrow trails made by Indians on their huntingexpeditions and warlike excursions. Roads, such as our emigrants hadbeen accustomed to in Illinois, there were none. First came the fainttraces of human feet and of unshod horses and ponies; then thewell-defined trail of hunters, trappers, and Indians; then thewagon-track of the military trains, which, in course of time, weresmoothed and formed into the military road kept in repair by theUnited States Government.
Following this road, the Dixon emigrants came upon the broad, bright,and shallow stream of the Big Blue. Fording this, they drove into therough, new settlement of Manhattan, lately built at the junction ofthe Blue and the Kaw rivers.
It was a beautiful May day when the travellers entered Manhattan. Itwas an active and a promising town. Some attempt at the laying out ofstreets had been made. A long, low building, occupied as a hotel, wasactually painted, and on some of the shanties and rude huts of thenewly arrived settlers were signs giving notice of hardware,groceries, and other commodities for sale within. On one structure,partly made of sawed boards and partly of canvas, was painted insprawling letters, "Counsellor at Law."
"You'll find those fellows out in the Indian country," grimly remarkedone of the settlers, as the party surveyed this evidence of anadvancing civilization.
There was a big steam saw-mill hard by the town, and the chiefindustry of Manhattan seemed to be the buying and selling of lumberand hardware, and the surveying of land. Mounted men, carrying thetools and instruments of the surveyor, galloped about. Few wheeledvehicles except the ox-carts of emigrants were to be seen anywhere,and the general aspect of the place was that of feverish activity.Along the banks of the two streams were camped parties of the latestcomers, many of whom had brought their wives and children with them.Parties made up of men only seldom came as far west as this. Theypitched their tents nearer the Missouri, where the fight for freedomraged most hotly. A few companies of men did reach the westernmostedge of the new settlements, and the Manhattan Company was one ofthese.
The three boys from Illinois were absorbed with wonder as theystrolled around the new town, taking in the novel sights, as theywould if they had been in a great city, instead of a mushroom townthat had arisen in a night. During their journey from Libertyville toManhattan, the Dixon emigrants had lost sight of John Clark, ofWoburn; he had hurried on ahead after his rough experience with theelection guardians of Libertyville. The boys were wondering if he hadreached Manhattan.
"Hullo! There he is now, with all his family around him," saidCharlie. "He's got here before us, and can tell all about the lay ofthe land to the west of us, I dare say."
"I have about made up my mind to squat on Hunter's Creek," saidClark, when the boys had saluted him. "Pretty good land on Hunter's,so I am told; no neighbors, and the land has been surveyed off by theGovernment surveyors. Hunter's Creek? Well, that's about six milesabove the fort. It makes into the Republican, and, so they tell me,there's plenty of wood along the creek, and a good lot of oak andhickory not far off. Timber is what we all want, you know."
As for Bartlett, who had come out from New England with the Clarks, hewas inclined to go to the lower side of the Republican Fork, taking tothe Smoky Hill country. That was the destination of the Jenness party,who had passed the Dixon boys when they were camped after their upsetin the creek, several days before. This would leave the Clarks--Johnand his wife and two children, and his brother Jotham, and Jotham'sboy, Pelatiah--to make a settlement by themselves on Hunter's Creek.
Which way were the Dixon boys going? Charlie, the spokesman of theparty because he was the eldest, did not know. His father and unclewere out prospecting among the campers now. Sandy was sure that theywould go up the Republican Fork. His father had met one of thesettlers from that region, and had been very favorably impressed withhis report. This Republican Fork man was an Arkansas man, but "a goodfellow," so Sandy said. To be a good fellow, according to Sandy's wayof putting things, was to be worthy of all confidence and esteem.
Mr. Bryant thought that as there were growing rumors of troublesomeIndians, it would be better to take the southern or Smoky Hill route;the bulk of the settlers were going that way, and where there werelarge numbers there would be safety. While the lads were talking withthe Clarks, Bryant and his brother-in-law came up, and, after greetingtheir former acquaintance and ascertaining whither he was bound, Mr.Howell told the boys that they had been discussing the advantages ofthe two routes with Younkins, the settler from Republican Fork, andhad decided to go on to "the post," as Fort Riley was generallycalled, and there decide which way they should go--to the right or tothe left.
As to the Clarks, they were determined to take the trail for Hunter'sCreek that very day. Bartlett decided to go to the Smoky Hill country.He cast in his lot with a party of Western men, who had heard glowingreports of the fertility and beauty of the region lying alongSolomon's Fork, a tributary of the Smoky Hill. It was in this way thatparties split up after they had entered the Promised Land.
Leaving the Clarks to hitch up their teams and part company withBartlett, the Dixon party returned to their camp, left temporarily inthe care of Younkins, who had come to Manhattan for a few supplies,and who had offered to guide the others to a desirable place forsettlement which he told them he had in mind for them. Younkins was akindly and pleasant-faced man, simple in his speech and frontier-likein his manners. Sandy conceived a strong liking for him as soon asthey met. The boy and the man were friends at once.
"Well, you see," said Younkins, sitting down on the wagon-tongue, whenthe party had returned to their camp, "I have been thinking over-likethe matter that we were talking about, and I have made up my mind-likethat I sha'n't move back to my claim on the south side of theRepublican. I'm on the north side, you know, and my old claim on thesouth side will do just right for my brother Ben; he's coming out inthe fall. Now if you want to go up our way, you can have the cabin onthat claim. There's nobody living in it. It's no great of a cabin, butit's built of hewed timber, well chinked and comfortable-like. You canhave it till Ben comes out, and I'm just a-keeping it for Ben, youknow. P'raps he won't want it, and if he doesn't, why, then you and hecan make some kind of a dicker-like, and you might stay on till youcould do better."
"That's a very generous offer of Mr. Younkins's, Charles," said Mr.Howell to Bryant. "I don't believe we could do better than take itup."
"No, indeed," burst in the impetuous Sandy. "Why, just think of it! Ahouse already built!"
"Little boys should be seen, not heard," said his elder brother,reprovingly. "Suppose you and I wait to see what the old folks have tosay before we chip in with any remarks."
"Oh, I know what Uncle Charlie will say," replied the lad, undismayed."He'll say that the Smoky Hill road is the road to take. Say, UncleCharlie, you see that Mr. Younkins here is willing to live all aloneon the bank of the Republican Fork, without any neighbors at all. Heisn't afraid of Indians."
Mr. Bryant smiled, and said that he was not afraid of Indians, but hethought that there might come a time when it would be desirable for acommunity to stand together as one man. "Are you a free-State man
?" heasked Younkins. This was a home-thrust. Younkins came from a slaveState; he was probably a pro-slavery man.
"I'm neither a free-State man nor yet a pro-slavery man," he said,slowly, and with great deliberation. "I'm just for Younkins allthe time. Fact is," he continued, "where I came from most of us arepore whites. I never owned but one darky, and I had him from mygrandfather. Ben and me, we sorter quarrelled-like over that darky.Ben, he thought he oughter had him, and I knowed my grandfather lefthim to me. So I sold him off, and the neighbors didn't seem to likeit. I don't justly know why they didn't like it; but they didn't.Then Ben, he allowed that I had better light out. So I lit out, andhere I am. No, I'm no free-State man, and then ag'in, I'm no man forslavery. I'm just for Younkins. Solomon Younkins is my name."
Bryant was very clearly prejudiced in favor of the settler from theRepublican Fork by this speech; and yet he thought it best to move onto the fort that day and take the matter into consideration.
So he said that if Younkins would accept the hospitality of theirtent, the Dixon party would be glad to have him pass the night withthem. Younkins had a horse on which he had ridden down from his place,and with which he had intended to reach home that night. But, for thesake of inducing the new arrivals to go up into his part of thecountry, he was willing to stay.
"I should think you would be afraid to leave your wife and baby allalone there in the wilderness," said Sandy, regarding his new friendwith evident admiration. "No neighbor nearer than Hunter's Creek, didyou say? How far off is that?"
"Well, a matter of six miles-like," replied Younkins. "It isn't oftenthat I do leave them alone over night; but then I have to once in awhile. My old woman, she doesn't mind it. She was sort of skeary-likewhen she first came into the country; but she's got used to it. Wedon't want any neighbors. If you folks come up to settle, you'll beon the other side of the river," he said, with unsmiling candor."That's near enough--three or four miles, anyway."
Fort Riley is about ten miles from Manhattan, at the forks of the Kaw.It was a long drive for one afternoon; but the settlers from Illinoiscamped on the edge of the military reservation that night. When theboys, curious to see what the fort was like, looked over the premisesnext morning, they were somewhat disappointed to find that the postwas merely a quadrangle of buildings constructed of rough-hammeredstone. A few frame houses were scattered about. One of these was thesutler's store, just on the edge of the reservation. But, for the mostpart, the post consisted of two- or three-story buildings arranged inthe form of a hollow square. These were barracks, officers' quarters,and depots for the storage of military supplies and army equipments.
"Why, this is no fort!" said Oscar, contemptuously. "There isn't evena stockade. What's to prevent a band of Indians raiding through thewhole place? I could take it myself, if I had men enough."
His cousin Charlie laughed, and said: "Forts are not built out herenowadays to defend a garrison. The army men don't propose to let theIndians get near enough to the post to threaten it. The fact is, Iguess, this fort is only a depot-like, as our friend Younkins wouldsay, for the soldiers and for military stores. They don't expect everto be besieged here; but if there should happen to be trouble anywherealong the frontier, then the soldiers would be here, ready to fly outto the rescue, don't you see?"
"Yes," answered Sandy; "and when a part of the garrison had gone tothe rescue, as you call it, another party of redskins would swoop downand gobble up the remnant left at the post."
"If I were you, Master Sandy," said his brother, "I wouldn't worryabout the soldiers. Uncle Sam built this fort, and there are lots ofothers like it. I don't know for sure, but my impression is that UncleSam knows what is best for the use of the military and for the defenceof the frontier. So let's go and take a look at the sutler's store. Iwant to buy some letter-paper."
The sutler, in those days, was a very important person in theestimation of the soldiers of a frontier post. Under a license fromthe War Department of the Government, he kept a store in which waseverything that the people at the post could possibly need. Crowdedinto the long building of the Fort Riley sutler were dry-goods,groceries, hardware, boots and shoes, window-glass, rope and twine,and even candy of a very poor sort. Hanging from the ceiling of thisqueer warehouse were sides of smoked meat, strings of onions, oilclothsuits, and other things that were designed for the comfort orconvenience of the officers and soldiers, and were not provided bythe Government.
"I wonder what soldiers want of calico and ribbons," whispered Sandy,with a suppressed giggle, as the three lads went prying about.
"Officers and soldiers have their wives and children here, yougreeny," said his brother, sharply. "Look out there and see 'em."
And, sure enough, as Sandy's eyes followed the direction of hisbrother's, he saw two prettily dressed ladies and a group of childrenwalking over the smooth turf that filled the square in the midst ofthe fort. It gave Sandy a homesick feeling, this sight of a home inthe wilderness. Here were families of grown people and children,living apart from the rest of the world. They had been here longbefore the echo of civil strife in Kansas had reached the EasternStates, and before the first wave of emigration had touched thehead-waters of the Kaw. Here they were, a community by themselves,uncaring, apparently, whether slavery was voted up or down. At least,some such thought as this flitted through Sandy's mind as he lookedout upon the leisurely life of the fort, just beginning to stir.
All along the outer margin of the reservation were grouped the campsof emigrants; not many of them, but enough to present a curious andpicturesque sight. There were a few tents, but most of the emigrantsslept in or under their wagons. There were no women or children inthese camps, and the hardy men had been so well seasoned by their pastexperiences, journeying to this far western part of the Territory,that they did not mind the exposure of sleeping on the ground andunder the open skies. Soldiers from the fort, off duty and curious tohear the news from the outer world, came lounging around the camps andchatted with the emigrants in that cool, superior manner that marksthe private soldier when he meets a civilian on equal footing, awayfrom the haunts of men.
The boys regarded these uniformed military servants of the Governmentof the United States with great respect, and even with some awe.These, they thought to themselves, were the men who were there tofight Indians, to protect the border, and to keep back the rising tideof wild hostilities that might, if it were not for them, sweep downupon the feeble Territory and even inundate the whole Westerncountry.
"Perhaps some of Black Hawk's descendants are among the Indians onthis very frontier," said Oscar, impressively. "And these gold-lacedchaps, with shoulder-straps on, are the Zack Taylors and the RobertAndersons who do the fighting," added Charlie, with a laugh.
Making a few small purchases from the surly sutler of Fort Riley, andthen canvassing with the emigrants around the reservation the questionof routes and locations, our friends passed the forenoon. The eldersof the party had anxiously discussed the comparative merits of theSmoky Hill and the Republican Fork country and had finally yielded tothe attractions of a cabin ready-built in Younkins's neighborhood,with a garden patch attached, and had decided to go in thatdirection.
"This is simply bully!" said Sandy Howell, as the little caravanturned to the right and drove up the north bank of the RepublicanFork.
Boy Settlers: A Story of Early Times in Kansas Page 8