CHAPTER XX.
THE MOVING OF THE BOOMERS.
"Pawnee Brown at last!"
The words came from one of the boomers, a fat but spry old chap namedDunbar.
"Yes, Dunbar," answered the great scout. "Were you getting anxious aboutme?"
"Well, just a trifle, Pawnee."
"The camp must move at once. Send the word around immediately, Dunbar."
"Whar do we move to?"
"To Honnewell. As soon as all hands are at Honnewell I'll send outfurther orders."
In less than half an hour the immense wagon train organized by theboomers located in Kansas was on the way.
At the front rode Pawnee Brown, Clemmer and several others who werepersonal friends of the scout.
It was a grand sight, this moving. To this day some of the boomers sayit was the grandest sight they ever beheld.
Every heart was full of hope. Past trials and hardships were forgotten.The boomers were to enter the richest farming lands in the States andthere start life anew.
The movement was made in silence and in almost utter darkness. Ofcourse, it was impossible to hide the news from the citizens of ArkansasCity, but the train was well on its way before the news had any chanceof spreading.
At the time of which we write there were several trails to Honnewellfrom Arkansas City. The regular road was a fair one in good weather,but, after such a rain as had fallen, this trail was hub-deep with mudin more than one spot.
"Oi'll not go thot trail," was Delaney's comment. "Oi'll take the upperroad."
"Thot's roight, Mike," put in Rosy, his wife. "It's not meself as wantsto stick fast in this black mud. Sure, and it's worse nor the bogs ofErin!"
"Vot's dot road you vos speakin' apout alretty?" put in Humpendinck, whohad as heavy a wagon as anyone.
"It's a better road nor this, Humpy," replied Mike Delaney. "Folly mean' we'll rach Honnewell afore enny of 'em, mark me wurrud."
Thus encouraged, Humpendinck followed Delaney on the upper trail, and,seeing the two go off, half a dozen followed.
It was more than half an hour after before Pawnee Brown heard of theirdeparture.
The great scout was much disturbed.
"It's foolishness for them to start off on the upper trail," hedeclared. "I went over it but a few days ago, and at Brown's Crossingthe road is all torn up by a freshet. Besides that, we must keeptogether."
"Yer right thar, Pawnee," answered Clemmer. "Delaney ought to knowbetter. But yer can't tell the Irish anything."
"Humpendinck went with him," put in Dunbar, who had brought the news.
"Both the Irishman and the German are smart enough in their way,"answered Pawnee Brown. "But they've made a mistake. Cal and Dunbar, youcontinue at the head, and I'll ride across country and head Delaney andhis crowd back through the Allen trail. I'll probably rejoin you justthis side of Honnewell."
With this command, Pawnee Brown left the wagon train and plunged offthrough the darkness alone.
He had been over that district many times and thought he knew aboutevery foot of the ground.
But for once the great scout was mistaken, and that mistake wasdestined to bring him into serious difficulty.
About half a mile had been covered, and he was just approaching a patchof small timber, when he noticed that Bonnie Bird began to show signs ofshyness. She did not refuse to go forward, but evidently was proceedingagainst her will.
Quick to notice a change in the beautiful mare's mood, Pawnee Brownspoke to her. She pawed the ground and tossed her head.
"What is it, Bonnie? Danger ahead?"
Again the mare pawed the ground. Feeling certain something was wrong,Pawnee Brown stood up in his stirrups and looked about him.
All was dark and silent upon every side. Overhead the faint stars shedbut an uncertain light.
"It's one too many for me, Bonnie," he mused. "Forward until the dangerbecomes clearer."
Thus commanded, the mare moved forward once more, but this time muchslower. Once or twice her feet seemed to stick fast, but Pawnee Browndid not notice this. At last she came to a dead halt and would not goanother step.
"The danger must be in the timber," thought the boomer. "Bonnie Birdwouldn't balk for nothing. I'll dismount and reconnoitre."
Springing to the ground, he drew his pistol and moved forward silently.Scarcely had he taken a dozen steps than he realized the cause of hismare's unwillingness to proceed further.
He was in a bed of quicksand.
Anybody who knows what a bed of quicksand is knows how dangerous itis--dangerous to both man and beast. Just as the scout made hisdiscovery he sank up to his knees in the mass.
"By Jove! I must get back out of this, and in double-quick order," hemuttered, and tried to turn, to find himself sinking up to his waist.
Pawnee Brown was now fully alive to the grave peril of his situation.
He tried by all the strength at his command to pull himself to the firmground from which he had started.
He could not budge a foot. True, he took one step, but it was only tosink in deeper than ever.
Several minutes of great anxiety passed. He had sunk very nearly up tohis armpits.
Quarter of an hour more and he would be up to his head, and then----?Brave as he was, the great scout did not dare to think further. The ideaof a death in the treacherous quicksand was truly horrible.
His friends would wonder what had become of him, but it was not likelythat they would ever find his body.
And even faithful Bonnie Bird would be dumb, so far as telling theparticulars of her master's disappearance was concerned.
The mare now stood upon the edge of the quicksands, fifteen feet off,whining anxiously. She knew as well as though she had been a human beingthat something was wrong.
Suddenly an inspiration came to Pawnee Brown.
"How foolish! Why didn't I think of that before?" he muttered.
At his belt had hung a lariat, placed there when the wagon trainstarted, in case any of the animals should attempt to run off in thedarkness.
The boomer could use a lariat as well as Clemmer or any of the cowboys.More than once, riding at full speed upon his mare, he had thrown thenoose around any foot of a steer that was selected by those looking on.
He put his hand down to his waist and felt for the lariat. It was stillthere, and he brought it up and swung it over his head, to free it fromthe quicksand.
As has been stated, the belt of timber was not far away, the nearesttree being less than fifty feet from where he remained stuck.
Preparing the lariat, he threw the noose up and away from him. Itcircled through the air and fell over the nearest branch of the tree.Hauling it taut, Pawnee Brown tested it, to make sure it would not slip,and then began to haul himself up, as Rasco had done at the swamp hole.
It was slow work, and more than once he felt that the lariat wouldbreak, so great was the strain put upon it.
But it held, and a few minutes later Pawnee Brown found himself withsomewhat cut hands, safe in the branches of the tree.
Winding up the lariat, he descended to the ground, and made a detour towhere Bonnie Bird remained standing, and to where he had cast hispistol.
The mare and weapon secured, he continued on his way, but made certainto wander into no more quicksand spots.
"It was too narrow an escape for comfort," was the way in which PawneeBrown expressed himself, when he told the story later.
An hour after found him again among the boomers.
Mike Delaney was just coming in by the Allen trail. The Irishman wasmuch crestfallen over his failure to find a better trail than thatselected by the scout, and Rosy was giving it to him with a vengeance.
"Th' nixt toime ye go forward it will be undher Pawnee Brown'sdirections, Moike Delaney!" she cried. "It's not yerself thot is aswoise as Moses in the wilderness, moind thot!" And her clenched fistshook vigorously to emphasize her words. After that Delaney neverstrayed from the proper trail again.
All
of the boomers but Jack Rasco were now on hand, and as hour afterhour went by and Rasco did not turn up, Pawnee Brown grew anxious aboutthe welfare of his right-hand man.
"Looking for the girl had brought him into trouble, more than likely,"he thought, as he rode away from Honnewell, taking a due south course."And what can have become of her?"
Pawnee Brown was on his way to the spot where he had left Dick. He haddecided that as soon as he had found the lad, he would return to camp,and then the onward march of the boomers for Oklahoma should at once bebegun.
On through the ravine where he had met Yellow Elk he dashed, Bonnie Birdfeeling fresh after a short rest and her morning meal, for the sun wasnow creeping skyward. On through the brush, and he turned toward theopen prairie.
"Halt! Throw up your hands!"
The unexpected command came from the thicket on the edge of the prairie.On the instant the boomer wheeled about. The sight which met his gazecaused his heart to sink within him. There, drawn up in line, was thefull troop of cavalry sent out by the government to stop the boomers'entrance to the much-coveted territory.
Vorlange's spy work was responsible, and Pawnee Brown's carefully-laidplan had fallen through.
Boy Land Boomer; Or, Dick Arbuckle's Adventures in Oklahoma Page 20