CHAPTER IV.
TOM CHANGES HIS PLANS
Dawn broke dull and cold, but without much wind, and when Tom awakenedhe heard the churning of the great paddle wheel, the almost ceaselessjangling of the engine room bell and the complaining squeaks of thehard-worked steering gear. A faint whistle sounded from up river, wasanswered by the _Missouri Belle_, and soon the latter lost headway whilethe two pilots exchanged their information concerning the river. Againthe paddles thumped and thrashed and the boat shook as it gatheredmomentum.
On deck he found a few early risers, wrapped in coats and blanketsagainst the chill of the morning hour. The overcast sky was cold andforbidding; the boiling, scurrying surface of the river, sullen andthreatening. Going up to the hurricane deck he poked his head in thepilot house.
"Come on in," said the pilot "We won't go fur today. See that?"
Tom nodded. The small clouds of sand were easily seen by eyes such ashis and as he nodded a sudden gust tore the surface of the river into aspeeding army of wavelets.
"Peterson jest hollered over an' said Clay Point's an island now, an'that th' cut-off is bilin' like a rapids. Told me to look out for th'whirlpool. They're bad, sometimes."
"To a boat like this?" asked Tom in surprise.
"Yep. We give 'em all a wide berth." The wheel rolled over quickly andthe V-shaped, tormented ripple ahead swung away from the bow. "That'spurty nigh to th' surface," commented the pilot. "Jest happened to swingup an' show its break in time. Hope we kin git past Clay before th' winddrives us to th' bank. Look there!"
A great, low-lying cloud of sand suddenly rose high into the air likesome stricken thing, its base riven and torn into long streamers thatwhipped and writhed. The gliding water leaped into short, angry waves,which bore down on the boat with remarkable speed. As the blast struckthe _Missouri Belle_ she quivered, heeled a bit, slowed momentarily, andthen bore into it doggedly, but her side drift was plain to the pilot'sexperienced eyes.
"We got plenty o' room out here fer sidin'," he observed; "but 'twon'tbe long afore th' water'll look th' same all over. We're in fer a badday." As he spoke gust after gust struck the water, and he headed theboat into the heavier waves. "Got to keep to th' deepest water now," heexplained. "Th' snags' telltales are plumb wiped out. I shore wish wewar past Clay. There ain't a decent bank ter lie ag'in this side o' it."
For the next hour he used his utmost knowledge of the river, which hadbeen developed almost into an instinct; and then he rounded one of theendless bends and straightened out the course with Clay Point half amile ahead.
"Great Jehovah!" he muttered. "Look at Clay!"
The jutting point, stripped bare of trees, was cut as clean as thoughsome great knife had sliced it. Under its new front the river had cutin until, as they looked, the whole face of the bluff slid down into thestream, a slice twenty feet thick damming the current and turning itinto a raging fury. Some hundreds of yards behind the doomed point themuddy torrent boiled and seethed through its new channel, vomitingtrees, stumps, brush and miscellaneous rubbish in an endless stream. Offthe point, and also where the two great currents came together againbehind it two great whirlpools revolved with sloping surfaces smooth asice, around which swept driftwood with a speed not unlike the horses ofsome great merry-go-round. The vortex of the one off the point waseasily ten feet below the rim of its circumference, and the width of theentire affair was greater than the length of the boat. A peeled log, notquite water-soaked, reached the center and arose as vertical as a plumbline, swayed in short, quick circles and then dove from sight. A momentlater it leaped from the water well away from the pool and fell backwith a smack which the noise of the wind did not drown. To starboard wasa rhythmic splashing of bare limbs, where a great cottonwood, partlysubmerged, bared its fangs. To the right of that was a towhead, a newlyformed island of mud and sand partly awash.
The pilot cursed softly and jerked on the bell handle, the boatinstantly falling into half speed. He did not dare to cut across thewhirlpool, the snag barred him dead ahead, and it was doubtful if therewas room to pass between it and the towhead; but he had no choice in thematter and he rang again, the boat falling into bare steerageway. If heran aground he would do so gently and no harm would be done. So swiftwas the current that the moment he put the wheel over a few spokes andshifted the angle between the keel-line and the current direction, theriver sent the craft sideways so quickly that before he had stoppedturning the wheel in the first direction he had to spin it part way backagain. The snag now lay to port, the towhead to starboard, and holding astraight course the _Missouri Belle_ crept slowly between them. Therecame a slight tremor, a gentle lifting to port, and he met it by a quickturn of the wheel. For a moment the boat hung pivoted, its bow caught bya thrusting side current and slowly swinging to port and the snag. Ahard yank on the bell handle was followed by a sudden forward surge, aperceptible side-slip, a gentle rocking, and the bow swung back as theboat, entirely free again, surged past both dangers.
The pilot heaved a sigh of relief. "Peterson didn't say nothin' aboutth' snag or th' towhead," he growled. Then he grinned. "I bet he roundedinter th' edge o' th' whirler afore he knowed it was thar! Now that Irecollect it he did seem a mite excited."
"Somethin' like a boy explorin' a cave, an' comin' face to face with ab'ar," laughed Tom. "I recken you fellers don't find pilotin'monotonous."
"Thar ain't no two trips alike; might say no two miles, up or down, tripafter trip. Here comes th' rain, an' by buckets; an' thar's th' place Ibeen a-lookin' fer. Th' bank's so high th' wind won't hardly tech us."
He signaled for half speed and then for quarter and the boat no soonerhad fallen into the latter than her bow lifted and she came to a gratingstop. The crew, which had kept to shelter, sprang forward without a wordand as the captain crossed the bow deck the great spars were beinghauled forward. After the reversed paddles had shown the _Belle_ to beaground beyond their help, the spars were put to work and it was notlong before they pushed her off again, and a few minutes later she nosedagainst the bank.
The pilot sighed and packed his pipe. "Thar!" he said, explosively."Hyar we air, an' we ain't a-goin' on ag'in till we kin see th' channel.No, sir, not if we has ter stay hyar a week!"
Tom led the way below and paused at the foot of the companionway as hecaught sight of Patience. He glowed slightly as he thought that she hadbeen waiting for him; and when he found that she had not yet entered thecabin for breakfast, the glow became quite pronounced. He had seen manypretty girls and had grown up with them, but the fact that she waspretty was not the thing which made her so attractive to him. There wasa softness in her speaking voice, a quiet dignity and a certain reserve,so honest that it needed no affectations to make it sensed; and under itall he felt that there was a latent power of will that would makepanicky fears and actions impossible in her. And he never had perceivedsuch superb defenses against undue familiarity, superb in theirunobtrusiveness, which to him was proof of their sincerity and that theywere innate characteristics. He felt that she could repel much moreeffectively without showing any tangible signs of it than could anywoman he ever had met. He promised himself that the study of her naturewould not be neglected, and he looked forward to it with eagerness.There was, to him, a charm about her so complex, so subtle that italmost completed the circle and became simple and apparent.
She smiled slightly and acknowledged his bow as he approached her.
"Good morning, Miss Cooper. Have you and your uncle breakfasted?"
"Not yet," she answered, turning toward the cabin. "I think he iswaiting for us. Shall we go in?"
The plural form of the personal pronoun sent a slight thrill through himas he opened the door for her, showed her to the table, and seated herso that she faced the wide expanse of the river.
"I imagined that I felt bumps against the boat sometime during thenight," she remarked. She looked inquiringly at Tom and her uncle. "Didwe strike anything?"
"Why," Tom answered in simulated surprise, "no one sai
d anything aboutit to me, and I've been with the pilot almost since dawn. The whole factof the matter is that this river's dangers are much over-estimated,considering that boats of thirty feet and under have been navigating itsince before the beginning of this century. And they had no steam tohelp them, neither."
Uncle Joe appeared to be very preoccupied and took no part in theconversation.
"I have heard uncle and father speak many times about the great dangersattending the navigation of the Missouri," she responded, smilingenigmatically, and flashing her uncle a keen, swift glance. "They usedto dwell on it a great deal before father went out to Santa Fe. So manyof their friends were engaged in steamboat navigation that it was asubject of deep interest to them both, and they seemed to be very wellinformed about it." She laughed lightly and again glanced at her uncle."Since uncle learned that I might have to make the trip he has talkedin quite a different strain; but he did suggest, somewhat hopefully,that we put up with the discomforts of the overland route and make thetrip in a wagon. Don't you believe, Mr. Boyd, that knowledge of possibledangers might be a good thing?"
Uncle Joe gulped the last of his watery coffee, pushed back, and arose."Want to see the captain," he said. "Meet you two later on deck," and helost no time in getting out of the cabin.
"Well," came the slow and careful answer from Tom, "so many of us passnumerous dangers in our daily lives, unknown, unsuspected, that we mighthave a much less pleasant existence if we knew of them. If they aredangers that we could guard against, knowledge of them certainly wouldbe a good thing."
She nodded understandingly and looked out over the tawny, turbulentflood, then leaned forward quickly; and her companion did not lose thisopportunity to admire her profile. Coming down the stream like an arrow,with a small square sail set well forward, was a keelboat, itshide-protected cargo rising a foot or more above the gunwale amidships.Standing near the mast was a lookout, holding fast to it, and crouchedon top of the cargo, the long, extemporized addition to the tillergrasped firmly in both hands, was the _patron_, or captain. Sittingagainst the rear bulkhead of the hold and facing astern were severalfigures covered with canvas and hides, the best shift the crew couldmake against the weather. The French-Canadian at the mast waved hishand, stopping his exultant song long enough to shout a bon voyage tothe steamboat as he shot past, and the little boat darted from theirsight into the rain and the rolling vapor of the river like a huntedrabbit into a tangle of briars.
"That's splendid!" she exclaimed, an exultant lilt in her voice. "That'sthe spirit of this western country: direct, courageous, steadfast! Can'tyou feel it, Mr. Boyd?"
His eyes shone and he leaned forward over the table with a fierceeagerness. In that one moment he had caught a glimpse into the heart andsoul of Patience Cooper that fanned fiercely the flame already lightedin his heart. His own feelings about the West, the almost tearfulreverence which had possessed him at the sight of those pioneer women,many with babes at their breasts, that he daily had seen come intoIndependence from the East to leave it on the West, the hardships pastgreat enough to give pause to men of strength, but not shaking theircalm, quiet determination to face greater to the end of that testingtrail, and suffer privations in a vast wilderness; his feelings, hishopes, his faith, had come back to him in those few words almost asthough from some spirit mirror. He choked as he fought to master himselfand to speak with a level voice.
"Feel it?" he answered, his voice shaking. "I feel it sometimes untilthe sheer joy of it hurts me! Wait until you stand on the outskirts ofIndependence facing the sunset, and see those wagons, great and small,plodding with the insistent determination of a wolverine to the distantrendezvous! Close your eyes and picture that rendezvous, the caravanslowly growing by the addition of straggling wagons from many feedingroads. Wait until you stand on the edge of that trail, facing the west,with rainbows in the mist of your eyes! Oh, Miss Cooper, I can't--butperhaps we'd better go on deck and see what the weather promises."
She did not look at him, but as she arose her hand for one brief instantrested lightly on his outflung arm, and set him aquiver with an ecstaticagony that hurt even while it glorified him. He shook his head savagely,rose and led the way to the door; and only the moral fiber and trainingpassed on to him through generations of gentlemen kept him from takingher in his arms and smothering her with kisses; and in his tensestruggle to hold himself in check he did not realize that such anindiscretion might have served him well and that such a moment mightnever come again. Holding open the door until she had passed through, heclosed it behind them and stumbled into a whirling gust of rain thatstung and chilled him to a better mastery of himself. Opportunity hadknocked in vain.
"Our friends, the pilots, will not be good company on a day like this,"he said, gripping the rail and interposing his body between her and thegusts. "The gangplank's out, but there seems to be a lack of warmth inits invitation. Suppose we go around on the other side?"
On the river side of the boat they found shelter against the slantingrain and were soon comfortably seated against the cabin wall, wrapped inthe blankets he had coaxed from his friend, the purser.
"Just look at that fury of wind and water!" exclaimed Patience. "Iwonder where that little keelboat is by now?"
"Oh, it's scooting along like a sled down an icy slope," he answered,hoping that it had escaped the hungry maw of the great whirlpool offClay Point. "They must have urgent reasons for driving ahead like that.It must be an express from the upper Missouri posts to St. Louis.McKenzie probably wants to get word to Chouteau before the fur company'ssteamboat starts up the river. Or it may be the urging of the thrillthat comes with gambling with death."
Behind them Uncle Joe poked his head out of the cabin door and regardedthem curiously. Satisfied that troublesome topics no longer were beingdiscussed he moved forward slowly.
"Oh, here you are," he said, as though making a discovery. "I thought Imight find you out here. Captain Newell ain't fit company for a savagewolf this morning. Have you heard how long we're going to be tied up?"
Tom drew a chair toward him and looked up invitingly. "Sit down, Mr.Cooper. Why, I understand we will stay here all day and night." Heunderstood the other man's restlessness and anxiety about the wait, butdid not sympathize with him. The longer they were in making theriver-run the better he would be suited.
Uncle Joe glanced out over the wild water. "Oh, well," he sighed. "If wemust, then we must. That river's quite a sight; looks a lot worse thanit is. Hello! What's our reverend friend doing down there? Living in thehold?" He chuckled. "If he is, it's a poor day to come up for air."
They followed his glance and beheld a tall, austere, long-facedclergyman emerging from the forward hatch, and behind him came the pilotwith whom they had talked the evening before. When both had reached thedeck and stepped out of the rain the clergyman shook his head stubbornlyand continued his argument.
"I was told to come up on this packet and examine her carefully on theway," he asserted, doggedly. "Liquor in vast quantities has been gettingpast both Fort Leavenworth and Bellevue; and while the militaryinspectors may be lax, or worse, that is an accusation which cannottruthfully be brought against us at the upper agency. If I am not givenhonest assistance in the prosecution of my search, your captain mayexperience a delay at our levee that will not be to his liking. It's allthe same to me, for if it isn't found on our way up, it _will_ be foundafter we reach the agency."
"But, my reverend sir!" replied the pilot, in poorly hidden anger,"you've been from one end of th' hold to th' other! You've crawled'round like a worm, stuck yore nose an' fingers inter everythin' tharwar to stick 'em in; you've sounded th' flour barrels with awipin'-stick, an' jabbed it inter bags an' bales. Bein' a governmentinspector we've had ter let ye do it, whether we liked it or not. I'vegot no doubts th' captain will be glad ter take down th' engines, ripopen th' bilers, slit th' stacks an' mebby remove th' plankin' of th'hull; but--air ye listenin' close, my reverend sir? If ye try ter git meter guide ye around in that thar
hold ag'in, I'll prove ter ye that th'life o' a perfect Christian leads ter martyrdom. Jest ram that down yoreskinny neck, an' be damned ter ye!"
"I will not tolerate such language!" exclaimed the indignant shepherd."I shall report you, sir!"
"You kin report an' be damned!" retorted the angry pilot. "Yo're toocussed pious to be real. What's that a-stickin' outer yer pocket?"
The inspector felt quickly of the pocket indicated and pulled out ahalf-pint flask of liquor, and stared at it in stupefaction."Why--I----"
"Yer a better actor than ye air a preacher," sneered the pilot, glancingknowingly from the planted bottle around the faces of the crowd whichhad quickly assembled. "O' course, you deal in precepts; but they'd be acussed sight more convincin' fer a few examples along with 'em. Goodday, my reverend sir!"
The frocked inspector, tearing his eyes from the accusing bottle andtrying to close his mouth, gazed after the swaggering pilot and thenaround the circle of grinning faces. A soft laugh from above made himglance up to where Patience and her companions were thoroughly enjoyingthe episode.
"Parson, I'll have a snorter with ye," said a bewhiskered bullwhacker,striding eagerly forward, his hand outstretched. "Go good on a mornin'like this."
"Save some fer me, brother," called a trapper, his keen eyes twinkling."Allus reckoned you fellers war sort o' baby-like; but thar's th' makin'o' a man in you." He grinned. "'Sides, we dassn't let all that likkergit up ter th' Injuns."
"Shucks!" exclaimed a raw-boned Missourian. "That's only a sample he'stakin' up ter Bellevue. He ain't worryin' none about a little bottlelike that, not with th' bar'ls they got up thar. What you boys up thardo with all th' likker ye take off'n th' boats? Nobody ever saw none o'it go back down th' river."
The baited inspector hurled the bottle far out into the stream and triedto find a way out of the circle, but he was not allowed to breakthrough.
"You said somethin' about Leavenworth bein' careless, or wuss," said asoldier who was going up to that post. "We use common sense, up thar.Thar's as much likker gits past th' agencies on th' land side as evertried ter git past on th' river. Every man up-bound totes as much o' itas he kin carry. Th' fur company uses judgment in passin' it out, fer itdon't want no drunken Injuns; but th' free traders don't care a rip. Ifth' company ain't got it, then th' Injuns trade whar they kin git it;an' that means they'll git robbed blind, an' bilin' drunk in th'bargain. If I had my way, they'd throw th' hull kit of ye in th' river."
"That's right," endorsed a trapper, chuckling, and slapping theinspector on the back with hearty strength. "You hold this hyar boat toth' bank at Bellevue jest as long as ye kin, parson. It makes bettertime than th' boys goin' over th' land, an' 'tain't fair ter th' boys.Think ye kin hold her a hull week, an' give my pardners a chanct terbeat her ter th' Mandan villages?" He looked around, grinning. "ThemInjuns must have a hull passel o' furs a-waitin' fer th' first trader."
"What's th' trouble here?" demanded the captain, pushing roughly throughthe crowd. "What's th' trouble?"
"Nothing but the baiting of a government inspector and a wearer of thecloth," bitterly answered the encircled minister.
"Oh," said the captain, relieved. "Wall, ye git as ye give. Are yethrough with th' hold?"
The inspector sullenly regarded him. "I think so," he answered.
The captain wheeled to one of the crew. "Joe, throw on that hatch, lockit, and keep it locked until we get to Bellevue," he snapped. "We'reready to comply with government regulations, at the proper time andplace. You and your friends can root around all you want after we get toBellevue. The next time I find you in the hold with a lighted candleI'll take it away from you and lock you in there." He turned, orderedthe crowd to disperse and went back to the texas.
It was an old story, this struggle to get liquor past the posts to theupper Missouri, and there were tricks as yet untried. From theunexpected passage of this up-bound inspector, going out to his stationat the agency, and his officious nosings, it was believed by many thatany liquor on board would not have a chance to get through. And whyshould the _Belle_ be carrying it, since her destination and turningpoint was Bellevue?
"Is it true that liquor is smuggled up the river?" asked Patience as theinspector became lost to sight below.
Her companions laughed in unison.
"They not only try to get it up," answered Tom, "but they succeed. I'vebeen watching that sour-faced parson on his restless ramblings about theboat, and I knew at once that there must be a game on. Sometimes theirinformation is correct. However, I'll back the officers of this packetagainst him, any time."
"I'm afraid you'd win your bet, Mr. Boyd," choked the uncle.
"Uncle Joe! What do you know about it?" asked his niece accusingly.
"Nothing, my dear; not a single thing!" he expostulated, raising hishands in mock horror, his eyes resting on three new yawls turnedbottomside up on the deck near the bow. He mentally pictured thehalf-dozen bullboats stowed on the main deck near the stern, eachcapable of carrying two tons if handled right, and he shook withlaughter. This year the fur company's boat carried no liquor and itscaptain would insist on a most thorough inspection at Bellevue; but thefur posts on the upper river would be overjoyed by what she would bringto them. After the inspection she would proceed on her calm way, and tieagainst the bank at a proper distance above the agency; just as the_Belle_ would spend a night against the bank at a proper distance belowBellevue; and what the latter would run ashore after midnight, when theinquisitive minister was deep in sleep, would be smuggled upstream inthe smaller boats during the dark of the night following, and be putaboard the fur boat above.
"Uncle Joe!" said his niece. "You know something!"
"God help the man that don't!" snorted her uncle. "Look there!"
A heavily loaded Mackinaw boat had shot around the next bend. It was oflarge size, nearly fifty feet long and a dozen wide. In the bow werefour men at the great oars and in the stern at the tiller was the_patron_, singing in lusty and not unpleasant voice and in mixed Frenchand English, a song of his own composing.
Patience put a finger to her lips and enjoined silence, leaning forwardto catch the words floating across the turbulent water, and to her theysounded thus:
_"Mon pere Baptiste for Pierre Chouteau He work lak dam in le ol' bateau; From Union down le ol' Missou Lak chased, by gar, by carcajou._
_"Le coureurs des bois, le voyageur, too, He nevaire work so hard, mon Dieu, Lak Baptiste pere an' Baptiste fils, Coureurs avant on le ol' Missou._
_"McKenzie say: 'Baptiste Ladeaux, Thees lettaire you mus' geeve Chouteau; Vous are one dam fine voyageur-- So hurry down le ol' Missou._
_"Go get vous fils an' vous chapeau, You mebby lak Mackinaw bateau'-- Lak that he say, lak one dam day Le voyage weel tak to ol' St. Lou!"_
As the square stern of the fur-laden boat came opposite the packet themercurial _patron_ stopped his song and shouted: "_Levez les perches!_"and the four oars rose from the water and shot into the air, verticaland rigid. The pilot of the steamboat, chancing to be in the pilothouse, blew a series of short blasts in recognition, causing theengineer to growl something about wasting his steam. The crew of theMackinaw boat arose and cheered, the _patron_ firing his pistol into theair. Gay vocal exchanges took place between the two boats, and thepatron, catching sight of Patience, placed a hand over his heart andbowed, rattling off habitant French. She waved in reply and watched theboat forge ahead under the thrust of the perfectly timed oars.
"Mackinaw boat," said Tom, "and in a hurry. _There's_ the express. Thereis a belief on the river that the square stern of those boats gives thema speed in rapids greater than that of the current. They are very safeand handy for this kind of navigation, and well built by skilledartisans at the boat yards of the principal trading posts up the river.They are a great advance over the bullboat, which preceded them."
"And which are still in use, makeshifts though they are," said CaptainNewell as he stopped besi
de them. "But you can't beat the bullboat forthe purpose for which it was first made; that of navigating theshallower streams. I thought you would be glad to know that we expect tobe under way again early in the morning. But, speaking of bullboats, didyou ever see one, Miss Cooper?"
"I've had them pointed out to me at St. Louis, but at a distance," sheanswered. "Somehow they did not impress me enough to cause me toremember what they looked like."
"Why, I'll show you some," offered Tom eagerly. "There's half a dozen onthe main deck."
Uncle Joe squirmed as he glanced around, and arose to leave for the cardroom, but the captain smiled and nodded.
"Yes, that's so, Mr. Boyd. Take a look at them when the rain lets up.We're always glad to carry a few of them back up the river, for we findthem very handy in lightering cargo in case we have mean shallows thatcan be crossed in no other way. You'd be surprised how little water thisboat draws after its cargo is taken ashore."
"But why do they call them bullboats?" asked Patience.
"They're named after the hides of the bull buffalo, which are used forthe covering," explained the captain. "First a bundle of rather heavywillow poles are fashioned into a bottom and bound together withrawhide. To this other and more slender willow poles are fastened bytheir smaller ends and curved up and out to make the ribs. Then twoheavy poles are bent on each side from stem to stern and lashed to theends of the ribs, forming the gunwale. Everything is lashed with rawhideand not a bolt or screw or nail is used. Hides of buffalo bulls, usuallyprepared by the Indians, although the hunters and trappers can do thework as well, are sewn together with sinew after being well soaked. Theyare stretched tightly over the frame and lashed securely to the gun'le,and they dry tight as drumheads and show every rib. Then a pitch ofbuffalo tallow and ashes is worked into the seams and over everysuspicious spot on the hides and the boat is ready. Usually a falseflooring of loosely laid willow poles, three or four inches deep, isplaced in the bottom to prevent the water, which is sure to leak in,from wetting the cargo. In the morning the boat rides high and drawsonly a few inches of water; but often at night there may be six or eightinches slopping around inside. I doubt if any other kind of a boat canbe used very far up on the Platte, and sometimes even bullboats can't goup."
"How was it that the fur company's boat was tied at the levee at St.Louis, after we left?" asked Tom. "Rather late for her, isn't it?"
"Yes, it is," answered the captain. "The great event on this river hasalways been the annual upstream fur packet. She is coming alongsomewhere behind us, and very likely will pass us before we reach themouth of the Kaw. They take bigger chances with the river than we dobecause they've got to get up to Fort Union and away again whilethere's water enough." He looked at Patience. "Are you going far, MissCooper?" he asked, anxious to get the conversation into channels more tohis liking.
"Santa Fe, captain," she answered as placidly as though it were ashopping trip from her home to the downtown stores of St. Louis.
"Well, well!" he exclaimed, as if he had not known it. "That will bequite an undertaking!"
Tom Boyd was staring at her aghast, doubting his ears. The slowlychanging expression on his face caught her attention and she smiled athim.
"You look as if you had seen a ghost, Mr. Boyd," she laughed.
"I'm going to do my very best not to see one, Miss Cooper; or let anyoneelse see one," he answered mysteriously. "I am glad that I, too, ambound for Santa Fe. It is a great surprise and pleasure to learn thatyou are going over the same trail."
"Why, didn't you say that you were going over the Oregon Trail thisyear?" she quickly asked. "At least, I understood you that way."
"I often let my enthusiasm run away with me," he answered. "Much as Iwould like to go out to Oregon I will have to wait until my affairs willpermit me to follow my inclination. You see, I've made two trips toSanta Fe, it has got into my blood, and there are reasons why I must goover that trail again. And then, knowing the trail so well, it ispossible that I can make very good arrangements this year. But isn't ita most remarkable coincidence?"
"Very," drily answered the captain. "By the way, Mr. Boyd: you and Mr.Cooper seem to be quite friendly, and neither of you waste much time inthe company of your present roommates. Seeing that you are both bunkedwith strangers, how would it suit you if I put you together in the sameroom? Good: then I'll speak to Mr. Cooper, and if it's agreeable to himI'll have the change made. Sorry to tear myself away from you two, but Imust be leaving now." He bowed and stepped into the cabin, smiling tohimself. He distinctly remembered his conversation with the young man,only the day before, when Tom had assured him with great earnestnessthat he no longer could resist the call of the emigrant trail and thathe was going to follow it with the first outgoing caravan. The captainwas well pleased by the change in the young man's plans, for he knewthat the niece of his old friend would be safer on her long journeyacross the plains if Tom Boyd was a member of the caravan. He turned hissteps toward the gaming tables to find her uncle, whom he expected wouldbe surrounded by the members of a profession which Joe Cooper hadforsaken many years before for a more reputable means of earning aliving.
The reputation of "St. Louis Joe" was known to almost everyone but hisniece; and the ex-gambler was none too sure that she did not know it.While his name was well-known, there were large numbers of gamblers onboth rivers, newcomers to the streams, who did not know him by sight;and it was his delight to play the part of an innocent and unsuspectingmerchant and watch them try to fleece him. Not one of the professionalson the _Missouri Belle_ knew he was playing against a man who couldtutor him in the finer points of his chosen art; but by this time theyhad held a conference or two in a vain attempt to figure why theirconcerted efforts had borne bitter fruit. One of them, smarting over hismoderate, but annoyingly persistent losses, was beginning to get ugly.While his pocketbook was lightly touched, his pride was raw andbleeding. Elias Stevens was known as a quick-tempered man whom it werewell not to prod; and Joseph Cooper was prodding him again and again,and appearing to take a quiet but deep satisfaction in the operation. Atfirst Stevens had hungered only for the large sum of money his olderadversary had shown openly and carelessly; but now it was becomingsecondary, and the desire for revenge burning in Stevens was making himmore and more reckless in his play.
The careless way in which Joe Cooper had shown his money to arouse theavarice of the gamblers had awakened quick interest in others outsidethe fraternity, and other heads were planning other ways of gettingpossession of it. Two men in particular, believing that the best chanceof stealing it was while the owner of it was on the boat, decided tomake the attempt on this night. If the boat should remain tied to thebank their escape would be easy; and if it started before daylight theycould make use of the yawl, which was towed most of the time, and alwaysduring a run after dark.
Captain Newell looked in at the gambling tables and did not see hisfriend, but as he turned to look about the upper end of the cabin hecaught sight of him coming along the deck, and stepped out to wait forhim.
"Looking for me?" asked Uncle Joe, smiling.
"Yes; want to tell you that your young friend Boyd has changed his mindand is going out to Santa Fe to look after his numerous intereststhere. Ordinarily I would keep my mouth shut, but I know his father andthe whole family, and no finer people live in St. Louis. Who have you inmind to go in charge of your wagons?"
Uncle Joe scratched his chin reflectively. "Well, I'd thought of Boydand was kinda sorry he was going out over the other trail. I'll keep myeyes on the scamp. Strikes me he'd take _my_ wagons through for hiskeep, under the circumstances! He-he-he! Changed his mind, has he?D----d if I blame him; I'd 'a' gone farther'n that, at his age, for agirl like Patience. How about a little nip, for good luck?"
"Not now. How would you like to change sleeping partners?" asked thecaptain, quickly explaining the matter.
"First rate idea; th' partner I got now spends most of his nightsscratching. Better shift me instead of him, or Boyd'll get
cussed littlesleep in that bunk."
Captain Newell leaned against the cabin and laughed. "All right, Joe;I'll have your things taken out and the change made by supper time, atthe latest. Look out those gamblers in there don't skin you."
* * * * *
True to his word the captain shifted Joe Cooper to the room of his newfriend, and sent the bull-necked, bullwhacking bully who had sharedTom's cabin to take the ex-gambler's former berth. This arrangement wassuitable both ways, for not only were the two friends put together, butthe two loud-voiced, cursing, frontier toughs found each other veryagreeable. They had made each other's acquaintance at the camp-fire onthe bank the night previous and like many new and hastily madefriendships, it had not had time to show its weaknesses. One of them hadstolen a bottle of liquor at the camp-fire carousal and upon learning ofthe change shortly after supper, had led his new roommate to their jointquarters to celebrate the event; where they both remained.
The early part of the night was passed as usual, Uncle Joe at the cardtables, Tom Boyd with Patience and later mingling with the hunters andtrappers in the cabin until his eyes became heavy and threatened toclose. Leaving his friend at the table, he went to their room and in afew moments was so fast asleep that he did not hear the merchant comein. It seemed to him that he had barely closed his eyes when he awakenedwith a start, sitting up in the berth so suddenly that he soundlywhacked his head against the ceiling. He rolled out and landed on thefloor like a cat, pistol in hand, just as his roommate groped under thepillow for his own pistol and asked what the trouble was all about.
The sound of it seemed to fill the boat. Shouts, curses, crashes againstthe thin partition located it for them as being in the next room, andlighting a candle, the two friends, pistols in hands, cautiously openedthe door just as one of the boat's officers came running down thepassage-way with a lantern in his hand. There was a terrific crash inthe stateroom and they saw him put down the light and leap into a darkshadow, and roll out into sight again in a tangle of legs and arms.Other doors opened and night-shirted men poured out and filled thepassage.
The battle in the stateroom had taken an unexpected turn the moment theofficer appeared, for the door sagged suddenly, burst from its hingesand flew across the narrow way, followed by a soaring figure, to oneleg of which Ebenezer Whittaker, bully bullwhacker of the Santa Fetrail, was firmly fastened. After him dived his new friend, who once hadruled a winter-bound party of his kind in Brown's hole with a high andmighty hand. The trapper went head first into the growling pair rollingover the floor, his liquor-stimulated zeal not permitting him to wastevaluable time in so small a matter as the identity of the combatants. Heknew that one of them was his new roommate, the other a prowling thief,and being uncertain in the poor light as to which was which, he let theGoddess of Chance direct his energies.
At the other end of the passage-way the boat's officer, now reinforcedby so many willing helpers that the affair was fast taking on the air ofa riot, at last managed to drag the thief's lookout from the humantangle and hustle him into the eager hands of three of the crew, leavingthe rescuers to fight it out among themselves, which they were doingwith praiseworthy energy and impartial and indefinite aims. Consideringthat they did not know whom they were fighting, nor why, they were doingso well that Tom wondered what force could withstand them if they shouldbecome united in a compelling cause and concerted in their attack.
At the inner end of the passage, having beaten, choked, and gouged thethief into an inert and senseless mass, the bullwhacker turned hisoverflowing energies against his new and too enthusiastic friend, andthey rolled into the stateroom, out again, and toward the heaving pileat the upper end of the hall. Striking it in a careless, haphazard butsolid manner, just as it was beginning to disintegrate into its bruisedand angry units, the fighting pair acted upon it like a galvanic currenton a reflex center; and forthwith the scramble became scrambled anew.
Finally, by the aid of capstan-bars, boat hooks, axe handles, andcordwood, the boat's officers and crew managed to pry the mass apart anddrag out one belligerent at a time. They lined them up just as CaptainNewell galloped down the passage-way, dressed in a pair of trousers,reversed; one rubber boot and one red sock and a night shirt partlythrust inside the waistband of the trousers; but he was carefully andprecisely hatted with a high-crowned beaver. He looked as if he werecoming from a wake and going to a masquerade. Notwithstanding the veryrecent and exciting events he received a great amount of attention.
"What-in-hell's-th'-matter?" he angrily demanded, glaring around him, apistol upraised in one hand, the other gripping a seasoned piece of ash."Answer-me-I-say-what-in-hell's-th'-matter-down-here?"
"There was a fight," carefully explained the weary officer.
"Hell's-bells-I-thought-it-was-a-prayer-meetin'!" yelped the captain."Who-was-fightin'?"
"_They_ was," answered the officer, waving both hands in all directions.
"What-about?"
The officer looked blank and scratched his head, carefully avoiding thetwin knobs rising over one ear. "Damned if _I_ know, sir!"
"Were _you_ fightin', Flynn?" demanded the captain aggressively and withraging suspicion. "Come, up with it, were you?"
"No, sir; I was a-stoppin' it."
"My G-d! Then don't you never dare start one!" snapped the captain,staring around. "You look like the British at N'Orleans," he told theline-up. "What was it all about? Hell's bells! It _must_ 'a' had abeginning!"
"Yessir," replied the officer. "It sorta begun all at once, right afterth' explosion."
"What explosion?"
"I dunno. I heard it, 'way up on th' hurricane deck, an' hustled rightdown here fast as I could run. Just as I got right over there," and hestepped forward and with his foot touched the exact spot, "that therestateroom door come bustin' out right at me. I sorta ducked to one side,an' plumb inter somebody that hit me on th' eye. I reckon th' fightin'was from then on. Excuse me, sir; but you got yore pants onupside-down--I means stern-foremost, sir."
"What's my pants got to do with this disgraceful riot, or mebby mutiny?"blazed the reddening captain. He couldn't resist a downward glance overhis person, and hastily slipped the red-socked foot behind its bootedmate.
Somebody snickered and the sound ran along the line, gathering volume.Glaring at the battle-scarred line-up, Captain Newell waved the pistoland seemed at a loss for words.
Uncle Joe stepped forward with the bullwhacker. "Captain, this man sayshe woke up an' found a thief reachin' under his pillow, where he keepshis bottle. I think the thief is against the wall, there; and hispartner, who doubtless acted as his lookout, is in the hands of thosetwo men. The rest of th' fightin' was promiscuous, but well meant. Ireckon if you put those two thieves in irons an' let th' rest of us goback to our berths it'll be th' right thing to do. As for Flynn, hedeserves credit for his part in it."
"That's my understanding of it, captain," said Tom, and again burst outlaughing. "Evidently they were after Mr. Cooper's money, which he hasshown recklessly, and they did not know that he had changed staterooms."
"Reckon that's it, captain!" shouted someone, laughingly. "Anyhow, it'sgood enough. Come on, captain; it's time for a drink all 'round!"
In another moment a shirt-tailed picnic was in full swing, the bottlespassing rapidly.
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