PILGRIMS 
 
 OF THE 
 
 PLAINS 
 
 KATE'A'APLINaTON 
 
PILGRIMS OF THE PLAINS 
 

 DE YA" 
 
PILGRIMS OF 
 THE PLAINS 
 
 A ROMANCE 
 
 OF THE 
 
 SANTA FE TRAIL 
 
 BY 
 
 KATE A. APLINGTON 
 
 4- 
 
 GROSSET & DUNLAP 
 
 PUBLISHERS :: NEW YORK 
 
COPYRIGHT, 1913 
 BY F. G. BROWNE <fc CO. 
 
 All rights reserved 
 Copyright in England 
 
 PUBLISHED, FEBRUARY, 1913 
 
 SECOND EDITION, FEBRUARY, 1913 
 THIRD EDITION, MARCH, 1913 
 
 THE-PLIMPTON-PRE38 
 
 [WD-OJ 
 NORWOOD' M AS S'U8- A 
 
gnoroft Library 
 
 TO 
 
 ELIZABETH BUTLER GENTRY 
 
 I DESCENDANT OF 
 
 CAVALIER AND FRONTIERSMAN 
 
 THIS STORY OP A HISTORIC OLD TRAIL 
 
 IS AFFECTIONATELY INSCRIBED 
 
 BY THE AUTHOR 
 
 ' 
 
A PERSONAL WORD 
 
 THERE are certain readers who hurry through 
 the first few chapters of a book, and turn 
 impatiently to the last one to see what the 
 ending of the tale may be. What is not essential to 
 the "story" has little interest for them. "Preface," 
 "Introduction," or "Foreword" do not exist, in so 
 far as they are concerned. And if an author is 
 inclined to slyly criticize their little foibles and 
 peculiarities he may safely do so in the "Pref- 
 ace" and they will never find it out. 
 
 That there are a few people of this sort, we 
 will admit. That they are in the majority we 
 must deny. In this broad land there are hundreds 
 of thousands of careful discriminating readers 
 true book-lovers who take up a new book with 
 something of fondness in their touch. They note 
 the title-page, the illustrations, and then, before 
 they take the plunge into the story itself, they 
 read the introductory pages, as you are now 
 reading this page. 
 
 As author and reader we have heretofore been as 
 strangers, yet I hope that you may take this story 
 
viii A PERSONAL WORD 
 
 and its people into your heart. I hope that you 
 will like to travel the Trail with them, and, above 
 all, that you may believe in them, and in all the 
 incidents of the journey as true. 
 
 To me, the author, it seems almost the truest 
 story ever written, and it is because of its truth, 
 that I dare to think it not unworthy of your 
 regard. 
 
 There was a big white house with double porches, 
 with a spring branch near by, and a row of beehives 
 and a locust-lane, still sweet in my memory. There 
 were the uncles and aunts, and the forty-two cousins 
 who used to come over to spend the day. In 
 Galena there was a house whose front door was in 
 the roof. I know the Mississippi, when its waters 
 are low, and when they are in flood. My eyes have 
 been dazzled by the glitter of its sun-lit waves, and 
 I have dreamed of the beautiful pictures that its 
 shores presented to my eyes. I was on a boat that 
 raced up-stream against the "Phil Sheridan." I 
 have seen the negroes working at night in the light 
 of the red torches, and listened to their songs. And 
 once the man in the pilot-house let the young girl 
 hold the wheel, oh, yes, for ever so long, and he told 
 her strange stories of famous men whom he had 
 known Kit Carson, and Benton, and Jim Bridger, 
 and Colonel Bowie. 
 
 Yes, I knew the Newells the old Scotch couple. 
 I have listened by the hour as they quoted pages 
 
A PERSONAL WORD ix 
 
 from Bobby Burns's poems, and sang their "auld 
 Scotch sangs," some of which they taught to me 
 songs whose music has never been in print. 
 
 There was a long, long journey over almost 
 trackless plains; and at night our carriage was con- 
 verted into a "Ladies' Cabin." And the face-cream 
 was eaten up, and there was nothing left for the 
 alkali-scorched faces but bears' grease! Flapjacks 
 so peppered with dirt they had to be smothered 
 in molasses to make them go down, there was 
 nothing imaginary in them. 
 
 The Mexican with his furtive sidelong glances 
 came to share our campfire one night. And the 
 story of the climbing of Eagle Mountain has its 
 foundation in an actual occurrence. For years it 
 was a nightmare dream to me, and even now I do 
 not like to recall it. 
 
 Anna, the golden-haired one, whom the Mexicans 
 openly adored as if she were one of the pictured 
 saints, is not a wholly imaginary person, and many 
 of the others are almost like the real friends whom 
 I have known and loved, although there is no one 
 of them who has an exact counterpart in actual 
 life. 
 
 Stored up on the closet shelves in the dim corners 
 of my mind were many fascinating pictures, exci- 
 ting incidents, and interesting characters, such as 
 these. One day I resolved that I would take 
 them out, and put them away in order. Some- 
 
x A PERSONAL WORD 
 
 how it happened that they almost made themselves 
 into a story. 
 
 The town where I live, Council Grove, is the most 
 famous spot on one of the famous old trails of this 
 country, and naturally, the story became a story of 
 the Santa Fe Trail. When I saw what was likely 
 to happen, I prepared myself for it, by talking with 
 those who have traveled the long road to Santa 
 F6 behind their ox-teams. I read government re- 
 ports, delved in historical collections, and collected 
 newspaper clippings. 
 
 I drew a big map, with the camping-places properly 
 indicated, and the dates marked as they should be. 
 Upon it was written the details of the natural scen- 
 ery, and notes regarding the plants and animals, 
 as well as the tribes of Indians that would natu- 
 rally belong to the different localities. This map 
 hung on the wall before me as I wrote, and this 
 served as the foundation on which the story was 
 built. I have had it constantly before me for four 
 years, and I have told the story over and over 
 again for the same four years, so it is not strange if 
 to me it seems as if it almost might be true. 
 
 I wonder if it will seem true to you! I hope it 
 
 may. 
 
 KATE ADELE APUNGTON 
 
 COUNCIL GROVE, KANSAS, 
 November 16, 1912. 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 I. THE FIRE-LIT HEARTH 3 
 
 II. FOR THE SAVING OF THE LAD 6 
 
 III. A FAMILY PARTY 18 
 
 IV. THE OAK TREE INN 23 
 
 V. THE Anna-Eve 26 
 
 VI. RIVER DREAMS 36 
 
 VII. THE VIOL D'AMORE 44 
 
 VIII. FRAGRANCE OF LOCUST-BLOOM 53 
 
 IX. HIRAM'S BILL OF SALE 61 
 
 X. THE EXPLOSION, AND A "BOWER-DANCE" ... 71 
 
 XI. THE GAMBLERS 80 
 
 XII. EACH IN His OWN WAY 87 
 
 XIII. PAP BAKER'S HOUN' PUP 100 
 
 XIV. THE EXTREMEST EDGE OF CIVILIZATION .... 109 
 XV. THE SIGN OF THE LONG FAREWELL 129 
 
 XVI. AN INDIAN-TRADE 148 
 
 XVII. SWEET FIELDS BEYOND THE SWELLING FLOOD . . 158 
 
 XVIII. WHERE FLOWERS GROW THICKEST 177 
 
 XIX. "DE WOLF AN' DE COYOTE, DEY NOT WAIT'* . . 185 
 
 XX. A DROP TO KEEP OUT THE COLD 192 
 
 XXI. WHEN KNIGHTS RODE OUT IN TOURNAMENT . . . 201 
 
 XXII. "A MILLION IN A BUNCH" 212 
 
 XXIII. SQUAW-TOGGERY 223 
 
 XXIV. A QUESTION NOT ANSWERED 238 
 
 XXV. "Ep WE KEEP THE NEEDLE P'INTIN' TRUE" . . 242 
 
 XXVI. I MIGHT HAVE PROMISED 255 
 
 XXVII. WAIFS OF THE DESERT 262 
 
xii PILGRIMS OF THE PLAINS 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 XXVIII. SUCH ARE THE RULERS OVER Us 267 
 
 XXIX. A FACE I LONG TO SEE 274 
 
 XXX. BANDITS BY THE FIRE ......... 277 
 
 XXXI. A SONG OP MYSTERY 289 
 
 XXXII. THE PRICK OF THE SHARP BLADE 294 
 
 XXXIII. MY RIGHTFUL PLACE FOREVERMORE .... 306 
 
 XXXIV. USE FOR THE PATCHWORK QUILT 326 
 
 XXXV. STAINED WITH A BLOOD STAIN 333 
 
 XXXVI. A TRUE-LOVE Kiss . 345 
 
 XXXVII. THE OWNER OF THE MINE 357 
 
 XXXVIII. THE BLESSING OF THE CARAVAN 368 
 
 XXXIX. LIKE A RIPE PLUM 378 
 
 XL. THE SECOND-SIGHT 383 
 
 XLL A CHAPEL AMONG THE ASPENS 389 
 
Pilgrims of the Plains 
 
Pilgrims of the Plains 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 THE FIRE-LIT HEARTH 
 
 1WAS the last one in the procession of girls, when 
 we took our candles last night to go up to bed. 
 The procession was sedate and orderly enough 
 till we were half-way up the stairs; and then the 
 twins, scrambling up in front of Martha and Lucy, 
 tried to blow the candle out. In the midst of the 
 noisy romping I slipped away, and went back to the 
 hearth where the firelight shone warm and bright; 
 and I curled down on the rug, drowsily watching 
 the thin flames playing around the half-burnt logs. 
 
 I did not know that father and mother were near 
 me till mother drew her rocking-chair up close 
 beside me and laid her hand on my head. I nestled 
 comfortably against her knee while she undid my 
 hair and braided it for the night, and finished the 
 work with a soft light kiss in the middle of my fore- 
 head, just as she used to do when I was a little, 
 little girl before the twinnies came. 
 
 Father, with his eyes cast down and his hands 
 clasped behind him, paced restlessly from the hearth 
 
4 PILGRIMS OF THE PLAINS 
 
 to his desk, and out into the front entry, where our 
 traveling chests almost blocked the way. I had 
 not been thinking of the journey that is before us, 
 until the fire blazed up and showed me the chests 
 there, all packed, ready for lifting into the spring- 
 wagon when Monday morning comes. 
 
 I cannot get over the strangeness of it; that my 
 frail brother is to be sent so far away from home, 
 with only me, his sister Delia Augusta Randall 
 as his nurse and companion; that we are to cross 
 the wide western plains, with a trading caravan; 
 that we are to visit the old Spanish city of Santa 
 Fe! I cannot believe it, though for the past three 
 weeks we have dreamed and talked of nothing else, 
 and for the past two weeks have done nothing else 
 but make preparation for the journey. 
 
 The sweet quiet of the night was broken by a 
 sudden gusty wind from the east. The branches 
 of the lilacs whipped sharply against the panes. 
 The light ashes flew circling up the chimney, like a 
 swarm of white butterflies. John, who has the front 
 bedroom now, coughed the prolonged racking cough 
 that we so much dread to hear, and I went in with 
 mother to close the window and to tuck the bed- 
 clothes closer about him. His arms were out and 
 all uncovered, but he promised he'd keep them under 
 the blankets, if we'd go to bed, and go to sleep. 
 
THE FIRE-LIT HEARTH 5 
 
 I heard the clock strike two; I heard the clock 
 strike three; I heard the clock strike four, and then 
 I thought it time to get up! 
 
 I went into mother's room, and softly kissed her 
 cheek and she did not waken, as I fondly but 
 selfishly hoped she would do. 
 
 I looked in where the girls were. Little motherly 
 Martha had taken the naughty twinnies into bed 
 with her, and Lucy lay curled up asleep in their 
 trundle-bed. 
 
 I partly dressed myself, and went out of doors* 
 along by the spring branch, up through the orchard* 
 and back again down the lane; and the locust blos- 
 soms dropped a sweet cold dew on my face and hair. 
 
 I was glad to creep back into my warm bed! I 
 brought my Journal with me; and here I am, propped 
 up with the bolster and pillows, writing when I 
 ought to be down-stairs this minute helping with 
 the breakfast. 
 
 I can smell the coffee, and hear the rattle of the 
 dishes as Margaret sets the table. All the girls are 
 busy but lazy Deya. Oh, oh! I thought I wouldn't 
 be left very long to indulge myself after this fash- 
 ion! It is Mary-Belle who is calling, "Dee-ya I 
 Dee-ya! Breakfast's waitin'!" 
 
CHAPTER II 
 FOR THE SAVING OF THE LAD 
 
 I HA VE two or three idle hours before me : there is 
 not a thing to do, for the work was all done up 
 before ever the girls and father started off to 
 meeting. There is no one for me to talk to, for 
 John and mother are out on the front porch he 
 lying on the couch and she sitting by his side, watch- 
 ing over him 
 
 I have been turning the blank pages of this my 
 new Journal book, and I found myself regarding 
 them earnestly and intently, as if I might in some 
 way discern, beneath the fair white surface, the 
 story that is to be traced upon them the story of 
 the journey that is to be. 
 
 The thought of the future, uncertain as it is, 
 makes me shiver with dread. Yet I must believe 
 that in the end all will be well. 
 
 We ought not to doubt that this that has come to 
 pass is a special Providence in John's behalf, though 
 it has seemed to come as by an accident just the 
 adding of a postscript to a letter, written by Hiram 
 
THE SAVING OF THE LAD 7 
 
 Hubbard to Deacon Gentry. Hiram told us about 
 it when he came down from Galena to talk things 
 over. 
 
 "You see," Hiram said, "I'm to go out with the 
 Deacon's caravan as wagon-master again this year, 
 and I were writin' him when I'd be ready to make 
 the start from Galena, and after I put my name to 
 the end of it there was a inch to spare, and so I jest 
 set down the news I'd been hearin' from Dixon, 
 seein' as how he used to live here. 'Bout the 
 tornado sweepin' through the county, and how your 
 two boys were ketched out in it and George 
 drowned in the river, and John's health so 
 poorly ever sence and his cough, and all. I had 
 clean forgot 'bout the Deacon and you folks bein' 
 sech great friends till here come a letter from him, 
 bidding me to come down to try to persuade you to 
 let the boy go West with me. 
 
 "The Deacon says it will be the savin' of the lad 
 if he can take him with him acrost the plains: and 
 I don't see any reason to doubt it. Jest like it was 
 with Will Gibbs, that lived over by Grand Detour 
 -you remember Will Gibbs, that had the quick 
 consumption, as they called it well, four years 
 of teamin' it out on the plains has worked a seemin' 
 miracle, for him. He's as stout and hearty as you 
 would wish to see anybody, and what it done for 
 
8 PILGRIMS OF THE PLAINS 
 
 him it ought to do for your John, sturdy little chap 
 as he always were. I remember, when him and 
 George was playin' round 'mong my tools in the 
 blacksmith shop burnin' their fingers on the hot 
 irons and sech like George were ten and John not 
 more'n seven I reckon, and I teached 'em to rastle, 
 and it were never John that were the first to 
 holler 'Nough!' even though he were so much 
 the littler. He were the pluckiest little feller I ever 
 did see; and I don't s'pose he's changed sech a 
 tumble lot jest along o' one spell of sickness! He'd 
 be one of that kind that would have an amazin' 
 strong grip on life, as I take it. They is that 
 kind, that will stand twicet what other folks does, 
 before they're ready to give up and then they 
 don't give up ! and that sperit will make him 
 pull through, if he has only the half of half a 
 chanst!" 
 
 As we talked it over afterward mother tried to 
 smile; and as for the rest of us, it was as if the 
 purpose of the journey were already almost accom- 
 plished; we were so sure that John would come 
 back to us strong and well, even as the Deacon 
 had said. 
 
 The new cheerfulness in the home atmosphere 
 and the excitement of getting ready for the journey 
 
THE SAVING OF THE LAD 9 
 
 are having the best possible effect on John. He is 
 gaining strength with every day. All the forces of 
 his life seem to be rallying to sustain him till the 
 fine pure air of the prairies can begin its healing 
 restorative work. Nothing could have been better 
 for John than to have Hiram with us. He stayed 
 for three days though he was, I know, in a hurry to 
 get back to Galena, to finish his preparations there. 
 Hiram is a born story-teller and romancer. He 
 does not hesitate to add a little something to the 
 truth, if it makes a story better worth listening to. 
 It isn't deception: "he is too transparent about it 
 for that: it is like the license the poet is privileged 
 to take, like the rhetorician's figure of speech. 
 And then there is always a very visible twinkle in 
 his eye that seems to give us permission to do a 
 little mental subtraction as we listen. 
 
 He has a fondness for big round numbers. "A 
 million buffalo in one bunch, yes, that's what I'm 
 sayin'! I seen 'em, yes, and felt 'em, too! The 
 ground trembled like they was a yearthquake, and 
 the bellerin' and tramplin' of all them hoofs was 
 worse'n thunder ! And wild horses ! Out there, nigh 
 Pawnee Rock, one time, we was mighty nigh run 
 down by a monstrous herd of 'em hundreds of 
 thousands of 'em, and not one less! And when we 
 wanted to ketch a few, we shot 'em! That's the 
 
10 PILGRIMS OF THE PLAINS 
 
 way they does it out there nicks 'em acrost the 
 neck bone, deep enough to stun 'em but not to kill 
 'em. It's a sight to see them wild things ' broken in' 
 the way they fights for their liberty ! They have 
 to mighty nigh kill 'em before ever they gives up!" 
 
 Hiram thinks there is no place like Westport 
 (where Deacon Gentry has his store). "It's right 
 on the edge of civilization, as one might say. They 
 ain't nothin' else beyond it. They ain't even a 
 name for none of that country till you come plum 
 to Mexico. But Westport is a thrivin' smart town 
 and likely to keep on a growin', as I figger it. The 
 Deacon's firm, Gentry and Newell, is doin' a power- 
 ful big business a makin' money, hand over fist. 
 I reckon the Deacon must have turned over nigh to 
 fifty thousand dollars, sence he went there to West- 
 port, four years, come next Christmas. 
 
 "Some of them fellers from Kentucky and the 
 South talk 'bout the Deacon bein' a ' master hand at 
 a bargain,' and it's a fact that he does squiz a dollar 
 pretty tight; but with his friends he's as free handed 
 as they make 'em. He made no bones o' givin' me 
 a hundred a month last season when I was wagon- 
 master with the caravan, and this time he's promised 
 to raise me to a hundred and ten. And that'll be 
 for the full year. William Newell, that runs the 
 branch house out to Santa Fe, is comin' home and 
 
THE SAVING OF THE LAD 11 
 
 I'm to stay there and take his place, to see that the 
 raskilly Mexes don't steal the Company blind! 
 
 "I'm thinkin' I'll make a good spec this year, for 
 the Deacon is goin' to advance me my wages and 
 invest it in trade, and that, with what I saved from 
 last year, will make a right tidy sum. 
 
 "Deacon Gentry mostly calculates that he'll 
 double or maybe thribble whatever he puts into his 
 goods. Calico, what brings two dollars a yard in 
 Santa Fe, only costs twenty-five cents in St. Louis, 
 and it's the same way with silks and cutlery-stuff 
 and fine liquors. The profits is enormous, that's 
 what they be! Course one has to reckon out 
 impost-duties and they is scandalous high 
 and all the ordinary expenses, not forgettin' acci- 
 dents, which they is sure to be a plenty of; but, 
 takin' it all-in-all, the profits is 'nough to satisfy 
 any ordinary reasonable man." 
 
 Hiram hesitated, and cleared his throat, and in 
 his most persuasive and engaging way went on. 
 
 "You see, Square, I know 'bout that there money 
 you got from the sale of your York State prop'ty. 
 Doctor Uttley told me. I don't know how 'tis that 
 a man's neighbors gets to know so much 'bout a 
 man's private bus'ness, but so 'tis! Well, him and 
 me were kinder talkin' that it mightn't be such a 
 bad plan for you to resk some of it in goods for the 
 
12 PILGRIMS OF THE PLAINS 
 
 Santa Fe trade, same's the Deacon's a-doin'. It's 
 a pretty good time for a man to ontie the strings 
 of his money-bags when he's got the chanst to double 
 his capital, and all within six months! Now don't 
 it look so?" 
 
 The gold was indeed lying untouched in the 
 bottom drawer of the desk, in the bags just as it 
 came from York State. The days have been too 
 full of trouble for father to care about it or think 
 of ways of investing it. But now he is feeling 
 differently and he thanked Hiram for reminding 
 him of this opportunity. 
 
 John took up with the idea at once and com- 
 menced to figure on the possible, and impossible, 
 profits; and he seemed to take so much interest in 
 the business that father wrote to Deacon Gentry at 
 once that he should furnish a good outfit wagons, 
 teams, and goods to the extent of ten thousand 
 
 dollars' worth, and have them ready against the 
 
 % 
 
 time that the caravan should start for Santa Fe. 
 
 It was not then fully decided that I should go 
 with John; so, in the letter, there was nothing said 
 about me. Anna, Hiram's wife, has let Mr. Hiram 
 know that she does not intend to be left behind in 
 Galena, while he is spending the winter in Santa Fe. 
 "She jest put down her foot that she was goin' with 
 me this trip, whether or no! And I ain't reelly 
 
THE SAVING OF THE LAD 13 
 
 objectin', only jest 'nough to keep her on the tenter- 
 hooks a bit. She's that mild it's right divertin' to 
 see her when she's a mite stirred up!" 
 
 It is a little unusual for women to go with the cara- 
 vans, and I know Hiram was thinking of Anna's com- 
 fort and pleasure when he tried to persuade mother 
 that it would be a fine thing for me to go with John. 
 
 "You see, Mrs. Randall," Hiram said, "two 
 women-folks can go anywhere together and be 
 happy and contented, and Anna and Miss Deya 
 would get along powerful well together. And 
 havin' his sister 'long with him it would be more 
 comfortable and homelike for John. As far as 
 hardships is concerned, them that's lived here in 
 Illinoys for the last five year ain't got no call to be 
 af eared of what's likely to happen out on the plains. 
 We, all on us, knows a thing or two 'bout Injins and 
 varmints and storms and sech as that. The Trail 
 from Independence to Santa Fe's as safe as the road 
 from here to Pe-o-ry. Troops patrols it regler, and 
 the Injins ain't no more obstreperous there than they 
 is 'round here. I tell you, last season we only seen 
 Injins twicet and they was the beggin' kind, and 
 not in any way what you could call hos-tile. 
 
 "Miss Deya would like it first-rate, I bet! We'd 
 ketch a wild pony for her to ride; and she'd find 
 the prairies jest covered with the purtiest kind of 
 
14 PILGRIMS OF THE PLAINS 
 
 posies; and down to Santa Fe they'd be fandangoes 
 and sech-like, and guitars a-playin', and all. They 
 ain't no doubt she'd be right int'rested." 
 
 The minute he spoke I knew I had been dyin' 
 to go, only I had not thought it possible. Up to 
 this time mother had not been at all reconciled to 
 the thought of parting with John each day as it 
 passed made it seem only more and more hard 
 but now she yielded, all at once. Though her eyes 
 filled with tears, she breathed a sigh, as of relief, 
 "Yes, if Deya goes - " and that was the way she 
 gave her consent. 
 
 This was two weeks ago, and since that time we 
 have been busy as bees, getting ready. It is fortu- 
 nate that mother is always forehanded with her 
 spinning and weaving. She'd think herself thrift- 
 less and slack if she did not always have on hand 
 enough of linens and linseys and jaconets and jeans 
 for several seasons' wearing. The big closet shelves 
 were full and all we had to do was choose and take 
 what was needed. 
 
 "Many hands make light work," and where there 
 are five girls in a family a little stint of sewing is 
 soon done. Uncle Asaph said we chattered "like 
 a passel of blackbirds," and I know we never stopped 
 to punctuate our sentences except as we stopped to 
 put a knot in our thread, or to thread our needles. 
 
THE SAVING OF THE LAD 15 
 
 When it came time to pack our boxes everybody 
 wanted to help, and they all had suggestions to 
 make. I really tried to follow Uncle Asaph's ad- 
 vice not to put in any foolish finery and fal-lals, 
 - but Lucy kept insisting that I ought to take my 
 best clothes, and though I said no to that, she did 
 manage to slip in two of my second-best gowns, and 
 the red morocco slippers, and the red plaid silk that 
 father bought for me in Washington, when he and 
 George and I went back there to see President 
 Harrison inaugurated. 
 
 I told Lucy it was ridiculous to think of taking a 
 gown like that out on the plains. 
 
 "'Tisn't for the plains! It's for Santa Fe. You 
 are going to Santa Fe, aren't you? And didn't 
 you hear what Hiram said about the fandangoes 
 and parties they'll be having? The Deacon being 
 so well thought of, you will have invitations r of 
 course, and you wouldn't want to go in your 
 old delaine and scandalize your friends and f am-i-lee, 
 I hope!" 
 
 When Lucy makes up her mind, it's the easiest 
 way just to let her have her way! She had packed 
 the silk gown, with the mitts and undersleeves and 
 all, in the very bottom of the chest, under the 
 bottom tray, so it should not get crumpled and 
 crushed, and I did not take it out. Maybe I will 
 
16 PILGRIMS OF THE PLAINS 
 
 be glad to have it with me. Maybe I will have 
 occasion to wear it. 
 
 This foolish talk about clothes! but it is only 
 that I have nothing else to do. I am trifling away 
 the time till the folks come home, and trying not to 
 think of the weary miles, the weary hours, that lie 
 between the present and the time of our home- 
 coming. Just at this moment I feel a strange sink- 
 ing of the heart. The house is so still so lonely. 
 I am sitting at father's desk 
 
 Last night I was sitting beside father on the settle^ 
 and he told me that there was something in the way 
 of business that mother thought I ought to know. 
 
 "I have been thinking that as John has shown such 
 an interest in this trading venture to Santa Fe, that 
 I ought to have the purchase made in his name. 
 The responsibility might be not a bad thing for him, 
 and it is only setting him up in business a little 
 earlier than I had thought to do. And so, when I 
 wrote to the Deacon a few days ago, I told him to 
 have the invoices made out in the firm name of 
 Randall and Randall." 
 
 I was a little puzzled by the half quizzical look upon 
 father's face, and by the tone of his voice as he said the 
 last words. He seemed to be waiting for me to speak, 
 and so I said, half -doubtfully, "You, and John?" 
 
THE SAVING OF THE LAD 17 
 
 At that he smiled almost gaily. "No, not at all! 
 Randall and Randall in this case means sister and 
 brother Deya and John! What is strange in 
 that, my child? 'It is only just, so your mother 
 and I both say. It is what I would have done for 
 George if he had lived, and now it is right that 
 I should do this for you." 
 
 It was almost under his breath that he said, "Did 
 you think, my daughter, that we have not known 
 how you have tried to fill George's place in the 
 home? how many of his duties you have taken 
 upon yourself? And now there are new responsi- 
 bilities that must be laid upon you, responsibilities 
 too heavy for your young shoulders only there 
 is no one else " 
 
 "John's health and comfort will depend, largely, 
 upon you. You must be a brother as well as a 
 sister to him. You must prove yourself manly as 
 well as womanly ^ You must take George's place, 
 and your own, besides!" 
 
 Praise does not make one proud. Praise is 
 chastening when one knows so well how difficult 
 it is going to be to deserve it. 
 
 It was a very sober and a very humble Deya who 
 knelt by her bedside last night. 
 
CHAPTER III 
 A FAMILY PARTY 
 
 THE roads are not so bad, and John has stood 
 the trip, thus far, better than we had 
 dared to hope! 
 
 To-night while father was staking out the horses, 
 I tied the buffalo robes to some bushes that were 
 close by the fire, and so made a cozy little sheltered 
 nook; and father and John are sitting there talking 
 comfortably together, while I am trying to carry 
 out my resolution to write a little every day in my 
 book. I dare say I will keep this Journal in a 
 scatter-brain, haphazard sort of fashion. Martha 
 hinted as much! I always like to begin a diary, 
 but there are always so many things happening to * 
 make one forget, or put off writing till a more con- 
 venient time. And when I look at a dozen or more 
 blank dates I get discouraged and stop. But this 
 time I have promised myself seriously that I will 
 write down everything of importance that happens 
 on this journey perhaps not just at the minute, 
 but anyway before I have a chance to disremember 
 
A FAMILY PARTY 19 
 
 it! When we get out on the prairie there will be 
 many tedious hours when I will be glad to have this 
 to 'turn to for occupation. I know how it will be. 
 The men-folks will be off, enjoying the pleasures 
 of the chase hunting deer and buffalo and 
 while they are galloping across valleys and out of 
 sight over the hills, Anna and I will be obliged to 
 sit quietly in our neat traveling carriage, with our 
 hands primly folded in our laps perhaps! 
 
 Before I forget it I ought to tell of our last after- 
 noon at home only yesterday afternoon, and it 
 seems a week ago. The day was not at all as we 
 had hoped it would be a long quiet restful day 
 a time for saying those last loving words that mean 
 so much at parting; but perhaps it was best as it 
 was. In the middle of the afternoon the kinfolks 
 began to "drop in," and by four o'clock the yard 
 and porches and house were "putty well crowded- 
 up," as Uncle Asaph said. There were uncles and 
 aunts and cousins and cousins-in-law father's 
 folks and mother's folks Randalls and Warners 
 and Demings and Smiths forty-six of them, all 
 told. Mary -Belle counted them when she set the 
 plates around for supper. 
 
 Mother would have the cloth spread out on the 
 grass in the front-yard, so there would be no neces- 
 
20 PILGRIMS OF THE PLAINS 
 
 sity for anyone to have to wait for the second 
 table. 
 
 "I never can enjoy my food properly," mother 
 says, "if the children have to wait poor little 
 things, all of them wondering if there's going to be 
 cake and chicken left for them, after we grown-ups 
 are through eating!" 
 
 When Aunt Sarah and Aunt Augusta and Aunt 
 Electa began to unpack their baskets, there was 
 little doubt in anyone's mind that there would be 
 enough of everything to "go round," but we all ate 
 together just the same. 
 
 The chests that we thought were all ready for 
 lifting into the wagon, had to be opened and re- 
 packed, for everyone brought something in the way 
 of a gift, for John or for me, books and wristers 
 and a wammus for John, and a big, horrid, sharp 
 "skinning knife" that he liked better than anything 
 else. And there was a "kiss-me-quick" for me, 
 and a reticule and porte-monnaie, and another diary 
 book and the loveliest toilet-box that cousin Lottie 
 made the outside all covered with tiny sea-shells, 
 and fitted on the inside with a mirror set in the lid, 
 and there were divisions in the box for comb and 
 brushes, and for the two jars of "face-cream" 
 (which was Aunt Hattie B's gift) made from the 
 famous "Nellie Custis recipe." 
 
AFAMILYPARTY 21 
 
 "You will need it," Aunt Hattie B. said, "when 
 you get out on the prairie, to keep your face from 
 freckling and blistering, for the sun and wind out 
 there must be awful." 
 
 Uncle Jabez laughed. 
 
 "It will take more of that stuff than she's got to 
 keep her face delicate and fair as you'd like to have 
 it. She's none so white now, Deya ain't, and by 
 the time she comes back after crossing that desert 
 country twice, there ain't no telling what she'll 
 look like a copper colored Indian, probably!" 
 
 It did not seem at all like the Sabbath! The 
 children forgot that it was not an ordinary week- 
 day picnic gathering, and they played "Chase the 
 Squirrel" and all their games, and no one cared to 
 remind them that it was the first day of the week. 
 
 And, for the rest of us, the hours were given up to 
 trivialities and gaiety, and laughter. They would 
 have it so. And when it began to be dusk and it 
 was time to go, there were no tearful good-byes to be 
 said ! They would only talk of the big Thanksgiving 
 feast that should celebrate our return, of the bags 
 of money that John and Deya would be proudly 
 showing, of the romantic stories that they would be 
 telling, and they drove away down the locust 
 lane, still laughing and singing. 
 
 So, in foolish gay fashion we spent those last 
 
22 PILGRIMS OF THE PLAINS 
 
 hours, and it did make the parting easier for us all. 
 We were able to keep up the fiction of cheerfulness 
 after they were gone and when we said Good- 
 night and that was hard 
 
 It was not yet daylight when father took his place 
 on the front seat of the spring wagon, and John 
 and I waved Good-bye to mother and the girls. 
 
CHAPTER IV 
 THE OAK TREE INN 
 
 THE wagon is drawn up under the friendly 
 shelter of a wide-branched oak tree; at 
 our feet a clear stream bubbles up out of 
 the rocks : a high bank rises in the north to shut out 
 the cold winds from the little grassy hollow. 
 
 We are not the only travelers who have rested 
 and refreshed themselves at this woodland caravan- 
 sery. Careless and cruel guests some of them have 
 been, for the gnarly and twisted trunk of the old 
 tree is blackened with smoke, and charred to its very 
 heart by the flames of their campfires. Yet the 
 tree goes on living lifting its head to the blue of 
 heaven stretching out its protecting arms over 
 the earth bravely trying to fulfil its natural des- 
 tiny as best it may, in spite of the fires that have 
 burnt into the heart. 
 
 It hasn't stopped raining for a minute all day 
 long. When I woke up at daylight it was pouring 
 down hard, so I thought I never would be able to 
 get breakfast, but father got a little fire started a 
 smoky, soggy, sulky fire and I fixed the coffee 
 
24 PILGRIMS OF THE PLAINS 
 
 in the pail, and the bacon in the skillet, and John's 
 broth in the tin cup, before ever I got out of the 
 wagon; and I took them and the umbrella and made 
 a run for it! Lucky the umbrella was a big one! 
 Father held it over the fire and over me, and some- 
 how the breakfast was cooked. But the rain ran 
 off from the umbrella ribs, and fell into the hot fat, 
 and it sizzled and spattered and burned my wrist, 
 and the flame flared up in my face and my 
 temper flared up, too, but only for a minute. 
 
 Before breakfast was half over we decided that the 
 rain was rather good fun after all John, especially, 
 but then it wasn't John's wrist that was burned! 
 
 We had to sit on the floor in the back part of the 
 wagon, as the wind drove the rain directly in our 
 faces when we tried to sit on the front seat with 
 father. We piled the robes around us and sat there 
 cozy and warm, and played checkers, while the 
 horses splashed along through water and mire, and 
 toiled up the rocky hills. 
 
 The checkermen slid all over the board, and when 
 we went sliding down a clayey slope my book 
 this Journal book slipped through under father's 
 feet, and he just caught it as it was trying to leap 
 overboard. 
 
 He wiped the rain-drops from it, and, looking to 
 me for permission, he read part of what I had written. 
 
THE OAK TREE INN 25 
 
 He smiled a little as he read the inscription, "From 
 Sister Martha," and said: 
 
 "It was well thought of, on Martha's part, to 
 provide you with this book, and I see you have made 
 a beginning. You will not keep it of course you 
 will not as Martha would; but I do not know as 
 that is necessary, or desirable. Martha is a dear 
 precise little maid, and her diary is something the 
 family could not well do without, so particular as 
 she is to set down every prosaic family happening, 
 with its proper date ! But you will be seeing strange 
 and exciting things, and may well follow a different 
 model and pattern. I would not take the task too 
 seriously, as if it were a duty that must be done 
 with absolute regularity, a page a day, no more, 
 no less, according to Martha's rule! 
 
 "Write when it is a pleasure to you: write freely 
 and naturally, as if it were a letter to the girls and 
 mother put in postscripts as they occur to you. 
 So will you keep in their first freshness your im- 
 pressions of this very wonderful journey." 
 
 The horses are hitched to the wagon. We will 
 have to start at once, and push the horses along 
 smartly if we expect to reach Galena before dark. 
 
CHAPTER V 
 
 THE "ANNA-EVE" 
 
 WE reached Galena yesterday, and it was 
 not yet so dark but that we could see 
 something of the strange old town. It 
 is built on the face of a slope so steep that the houses 
 seem to be standing one on the top of the other. 
 Long flights of steps connect street with street. 
 The roadways are narrow, so that in many places 
 there is no room for wagons to pass. 
 
 In front of Hiram's house all the road slid away 
 down hill into somebody's back-yard, and now the 
 only entrance there is to this house is from the upper 
 street. Hiram turned the dormer window in the 
 roof into a door; so we walk a plank into the attic, 
 and from there make our way down into the living 
 rooms. 
 
 From the porch on the south, we look almost 
 straight down upon the wharf, a hundred feet below. 
 All the business houses the Custom House, the 
 Post-office and the stores are down there next to 
 the river. 
 
THE "ANNA-EVE" 27 
 
 Galena is the most important mining-town of the 
 Northwest. They send their ingots of smelted 
 lead down river, and so to all parts of the world. 
 Hiram says the men who work the lead mines are 
 "the toughest lot ever was," but I think he is just 
 talking. We haven't seen anything of the sort; * 
 and we were down at the wharf all last evening, and 
 this morning, too, inspecting the boat that is to 
 carry us down river the "Anna-Eve" -a boat 
 of Hiram's own building. 
 
 He can make anything that he sets his hand to! 
 He, himself, modestly acknowledges that he is "a 
 natural-born tinkerer," but father declares that he 
 is the finest all-round workman there is in this part 
 of the country carpenter, wagon-smith, black- 
 smith, and now he has added boatbuilding to his 
 other accomplishments. 
 
 When he was down at our house, he told us about 
 this boat, and the extra "fixin's and contraptions" 
 he was going to put in "to make it fitten for the 
 women-folks what was goin' as passengers," but we 
 did not expect to see regular berth-beds, such as they 
 have in steamboats, and glass windows ! And besides 
 these he built a cupboard for Anna's dishes, and a 
 stone fireplace! "Anna wouldn't be nowise con- 
 tented if she didn't have a proper fireplace to cook 
 by, and a cupboard for her things," Hiram says. 
 
28 PILGRIMS OF THE PLAINS 
 
 Hiram has evidently been learning several lessons 
 from the thrifty Deacon. He has made arrange- 
 ments with four of his trapper-friends hunters 
 from the "North- woods" to take them and their 
 season's catch of furs down to St. Louis; and he 
 will "turn a pretty penny" by the transaction, for 
 they are to give him a percentage of the profits from 
 the sale of their goods for the service. 
 
 Perhaps he thought we might not like these 
 strangers as traveling companions; at any rate he 
 explained at some length: 
 
 "They ain't the kind that will be a bother. 
 They'll buy their own grub, and '11 cook it them- 
 selves, out on the deck, and they'll sleep there; so 
 you women-folks won't see much of 'em; but anyhow 
 they are all of 'em first-rate good fellers, generous- 
 hearted as they make 'em, too. I got a good right 
 to know 'em for I wintered with 'em one season, 
 trappin' and huntin', and I never seen a whiter lot! 
 - and one of 'em is a nigger, too ! He's white as 
 the rest of 'em inside, if his skin is black." 
 
 Hiram was in a philosophic mood, for he went on: 
 "Tell you, you find out what a feller is when you're 
 a-campin' with him out in the winter woods 
 'special if you're deep in trouble all the time like 
 we was that time. 
 
 "Trappin' is a gamble. Sometimes you hits it, 
 
THE "ANN A -EVE" 29 
 
 and again you don't! We never made 'nough to 
 pay for the salt we et! The Indians done robbed 
 our traps regler, spite of all we could do. But it 
 wa'n't like that this season. You oughter see the 
 stuff they brought in! Five hundred bale, the 
 finest kind of skins. It's down there under deck, 
 all we can well carry six thousand dollars' worth 
 as I figger it, and I gets a percent! 
 
 "It's a dum shame that sech a pile of money as 
 they'll handle '11 do 'em no good. They won't never 
 save a single cent of it. None of them trapper boys 
 expects to get out of St. Louis with money in his 
 pockets! It jest slips through their fingers like 
 water, and when it's gone, they turns them round 
 about and gets along back up-river, to their huntin'- 
 ground again. It's plum wicked, not to say down- 
 right foolish! I'd be doin' 'em a mercy if I was to 
 drag 'em off to Santa Fe with us, so's they couldn't 
 spend everything they get on foolishment!" 
 
 These friends of Hiram's are picturesque looking 
 people. Two of them are Frenchmen, Auguste 
 and Franchy Boissiere; and always with them is 
 the negro boy, Joe-Lu; Rob McLeod is a Scotch- 
 man, six feet four in height, and four feet six 
 around; or at least that is what Hiram says! 
 
 They are garbed in true North-woods style 
 ir.occasins, and deerskin shirts that hang down 
 
30 PILGRIMS OF THE PLAINS 
 
 outside their nether garments, almost to their 
 knees. On their heads they are still wearing, though 
 it is near summer-time, fine beaver-skin caps, with 
 broad tails flapping at the back. And they carry, 
 each one, a skinning-knife, tomahawk, whetstone, 
 bullet-pouch, powderhorn, pipe-holder, and a pair 
 of pistols all this besides the long rifle, their very 
 special pet and pride! 
 
 Since we came West father has entertained many 
 strange guests, but I had never before seen real 
 North-woods trappers decked out in their full 
 hunting regalia. They were the observed of all 
 observers on the wharf! From the windows of the 
 boat's cabin we watched them as they stood there, 
 bandying jests with the crew of the "Blue-Bird," the 
 big steamboat that was anchored near to the "Anna- 
 Eve." They shouted to Hiram and came aboard. 
 With all that superfluity of warlike equipment they 
 were cowards, every one, for when they passed the 
 corner of the cabin and came face to face with Anna 
 and me, they wheeled in their tracks, jumped the 
 gang-plank, and scurried to cover, as if they had 
 never before set eyes on women-folks. 
 
 This timidity did not last long, however. This 
 morning they boldly boarded ship and managed to 
 go through the ordeal of formal introduction. They 
 helped us as we hung the curtains at the windows, 
 
THE "ANNA-EVE" 31 
 
 and put the dishes in the cupboard, and arranged 
 John's books on the shelf above his bed. Anna was 
 making ready to scrub the floor, but big Rob in- 
 sisted that that duty should be left to him. "Dinna 
 fash yoursel' aboot the scrubbin', whatever! Thot's 
 a mon's work." And he began to throw the water 
 about so recklessly that we retired hastily, not 
 staying to argue the point with him. 
 
 While he splashed and scrubbed we sat out at 
 the front of the boat, looking at the city nestled 
 against the hills, at the rushing wave-roughened 
 river, at the men who were loading the "Blue- 
 Bird" with stacks of lead bars. 
 
 They kept piling the heavy bars higher and higher 
 and we were sure they were overloading the boat, 
 for the water was even then almost awash her lower 
 deck. Then we heard Franchy speaking excitedly. 
 
 "Sure dat Cap'n be a fool to load 'er down lak 
 dat! Catch a snag an* down she go lak a shot! 
 Me, I not fool 'nough to go wid no such fool 
 Cap'n! Dis 'Anna-Eve' she good 'nough boat for 
 me! Planty queeck, planty safe! She float lak a 
 duck, make dat St. Louis levee in a week, or may 
 be in tree four days, if we be mind to run 'er at 
 night! Dis full of de moon, jus' same lak day, so 
 we no need to tie up to shore, not less we want to. 
 Yaas, four day, anyhow, we make St. Louis! Dat ol* 
 
32 PILGRIMS OF THE PLAINS 
 
 Mississip', she be up a-boomin', you bet! De current 
 dat swif an* strong, carry us down stream lak we 
 'ave de steam engine! Planty queeck, yaas!" 
 
 Father is helping Hiram put in the last finishing 
 touches to the rudder. Father used to have two 
 schooners that carried the slate from his quarries 
 on Seneca Lake across to Buffalo, so he knows what 
 a boat should be, and he thinks the "Anna-Eve" a 
 very superior vessel, built on good lines, and stanch 
 and strong. It is so convenient and comfortable 
 it is a pity we cannot make all of the river journey 
 on her, without changing. That is, of course, im- 
 possible, as having no engines she can only go 
 down river with the current. From St. Louis up 
 the Missouri to Independence, we will have to take 
 passage on one of the regular packet-boats. 
 
 The "Anna-Eve" will be disposed of in St. Louis. 
 
 "They's always buyers for a boat like her, and I 
 do 'low that I'll put a good five hunderd dollars in 
 my jeans from the sale of her and maybe more'n 
 that!" 
 
 Hiram was not enlarging on the truth when he 
 said the miners here were a tough lot. To-night a 
 crowd of them shouting drunk, and mad for mis- 
 chief shouldered their way down through the 
 crowd gathered around the "Blue-Bird." The boat 
 
THE "ANNA-EVE" 33 
 
 was about ready to put off from shore, and the 
 gang-plank was filled with people coming and going. 
 The drunken rowdies seized on the plank and jerked 
 it loose, and men and women and children were 
 thrown into the stream. The water was shallow 
 and no one was injured except a certain Mr. 
 Breunner who suffered from a broken arm. While 
 he was in the doctor's office having it attended to, 
 what did the Captain of the "Blue-Bird" do but 
 steam away down river, and leave him? 
 
 This is the news that Hiram came rushing up to 
 tell us only about an hour ago. We have something 
 of a personal interest in the affair, for Hiram has 
 agreed to take this Mr. Breunner with us on the 
 "Anna-Eve," down as far as Alton. He had hoped 
 to meet a friend there a German Baron Hiram 
 could not remember the foreign name but if he is 
 not there by Sunday or Monday he will be too late : 
 and there is not another passenger steamboat going 
 down for a week! It looked quite hopeless for Mr. 
 Breunner's plans till the doctor thought of the 
 "Anna-Eve": and it was through him that the 
 arrangement was finally made. It is all greatly to 
 Hiram's liking, though it hurries us more than is 
 quite convenient. 
 
 "We'll have to make our start right away 
 before midnight so's to get the man into Alton 
 
34 PILGRIMS OF THE PLAINS 
 
 in time to see the one that's a-waitin' for him there. 
 That's what I promised him I'd do. He's to give 
 me a hunderd dollars; it's that important to him. 
 And that hunderd dollars is that good to me that 
 I'm goin' to do it or bust a ham-string a-tryin'! 
 The boys say we can make it all right if we ain't 
 too slow gettin' started." 
 
 Anna is as nearly vexed as she knows how to be! 
 No one could be kinder, or more generously disposed 
 than she. It is a pleasure to her to be obliging and 
 helpful; but this new guest thrust so unexpectedly 
 upon her hospitality is no ordinary person, arid she 
 fears that her plain way of cooking will not suit him. 
 
 "You know we haven't the niceties and conve- 
 niences that he has been used to; and will you tell 
 me, Hiram Hubbard, whatever are we going to do 
 about sleeping him, on that boat?" 
 
 She was looking over her mother's best linens, 
 taking out towels, and sheets and pillow-cases; but 
 Hiram put a stop to that! 
 
 "They ain't nothin' nee'ded for him better'n what 
 we got for ourselves! And he in particular speci- 
 ified that he was to sleep out o' doors, on deck, 
 same as the rest of us men; and you can go and put 
 your ma's sheets and fixin's right back where you 
 got 'em! He's consider 'ble well up in the world, 
 I reckon, but that ain't sayin' that he'll be fussy 
 
THE "ANNA-EVE" 35 
 
 and a trouble! The landlord up to the Galena 
 House said he never seen anyone more agreeable 
 and easier satisfied. 
 
 "They're all right int'rested in him down to the 
 ho-tel. They been noticin' the mail he gets, and 
 it's addressed with a 'Prof.' before his name and 
 a slue of letters after it, 's long's the moral law 
 A.B.C. and I don't know what all! I don't reckon 
 he'll be a mite of trouble 'ceptin' as you'll have 
 to cook for one more; and if he ain't 'greeable to the 
 vittles you puts on the table, why I'll turn the boat's 
 nose in to shore, and we'll put him off to stay!" 
 
 But for all of Mr. Hiram's independent talk, I 
 noticed that when Anna's mother handed him some 
 of her best blankets and towels he took them with- 
 out a protest! 
 
 The boat will not go for an hour yet; but Anna is 
 sitting out on the south porch with her shawl and 
 nubia on, and her blue veil on her arm, waiting for 
 the conch-shell signal to sound. 
 
 I wish father were here. There are a dozen 
 messages I want to send back to mother and Martha 
 and the other girls. And I want to feel father's 
 hand on my head, and hear him say, "I will miss 
 you, my daughter." It is not easy 
 
CHAPTER VI 
 RIVER DREAMS 
 
 IT seems a week ago since our boat slipped from 
 its mooring place at the Galena wharf, but Anna 
 insists that it was only two days ago and if 
 that is true, to-day is Friday! 
 
 That first morning on board was a busy one 
 taking out from our chests the things we will need 
 every day, and finding places for them. But since 
 then, for John and me, the hours have been passed 
 in idleness. A dazzling shimmering veil seems to 
 have been dropped between us and those last days 
 of hurry and anxiety. 
 
 The boat has not once turned in to the bank, nor 
 have we spoken to anyone outside our boat till 
 to-night, when we floated close in shore to have a 
 nearer view of Burlington. It was just at candle- 
 lighting time, and the circle of hills blossomed out 
 with a thousand tiny points of brightness, and in 
 the same instant the river was all a-twinkle with 
 their tremulous reflections. 
 
 Big Rob lighted a row of pitch-pine torches out on 
 deck, and (as if that were a sign and invitation to be 
 
RIVER DREAMS 37 
 
 neighborly) a skiff darted out from the line of boats 
 that lined the river bank, and soon drew up alongside. 
 
 The rowers were of the better class of rivermen, 
 and they brought us information that our boys were 
 very glad to receive. They said that the "Molly 
 Pitcher" had just pulled in from down river, and her 
 Captain had told them of a number of "cut-offs" 
 that the river has made, in the last few days. 
 
 "If you dare to take them, you will save yourself 
 many a long mile," they said. 
 
 Auguste was quick with his reply. 
 
 "Dare? For w'y we no dare? We raised on dis 
 ol' Mississip'. We know 'er, w'en she in full flood, 
 an* w'en she mos' dry, lak creek! Know 'er lak a 
 book, an' better'n we know our spellin'-book. 
 Yaas, you may believe me dat! We not afraid of 
 any new channel. Sure, we try dem! Where you 
 say? Nauvoo? an' de Half -Moon Bend? Yaas 
 we run dem cut-offs tree year ago w'en de river she 
 be up. Yaas, dat good job dat you tell us. You 
 take one leetle drink fo' de 'good-luck,' eh? Yaas, 
 an' de same to you!" 
 
 They drank together, and the men made haste 
 to go, for it was a long stiff pull against the strong 
 current up to Burlington. 
 
 Anna and I went out on deck to call after them 
 a friendly good-bye, and we saw the dark blot of the 
 
38 PILGRIMS OF THE PLAINS 
 
 little craft merge itself in the darker shadows of the 
 big boats along the shore. Then we came in and 
 fanned the dying coals to a bright blaze, and lighted 
 our candles and settled ourselves to our evening's 
 tasks. I took out my book and brought my pen to 
 a point, while Anna unrolled her quilt-pieces. It is 
 a Rising-Sun bedquilt that she is making, and there 
 is an immense amount of work in it, seven 
 thousand and eighty-six pieces in it, she says, all to 
 be cut to pattern and sewed together. I have lots 
 of patience for lots of things, but none at all for 
 quilt-piecing. Yet this is as pretty as such work 
 can be. The whole table, except the little corner 
 reserved for my book and ink-bottle, is covered with 
 the brightest of calico scraps crimson, garnet, 
 rose, scarlet, pink, orange, and yellow gay as a 
 garden of marigolds and poppies. 
 
 Anna is the dearest girl, and the loveliest, though 
 she will not believe me when I tell her so. She is so 
 modest and self-depreciatory it is downright pro- 
 voking. She calls her hair "a red mop," and it is 
 not red. She does it up tight and smooth as ever 
 she can, in a big coil around her head. But some- 
 times I rob her of all her hairpins, and hide the net 
 that holds the coils in place, and unbraid her hair, 
 and scatter it all about her. It ripples and glows 
 like a cloak of cloth-of-gold. If it were mine a 
 
RIVER DREAMS 39 
 
 queen's ransom would not buy it! And she is big 
 and tall and stately as one of Ossian's Celtic 
 princesses- "Moina of the Fair-Locks" too fine 
 and too lovely to be just Hiram's wife! 
 
 Perhaps I ought not to say that. Hiram is 
 homely and unlettered, but he is good-hearted, 
 kind-hearted, and he adores his wife, and tells her 
 so, though he cannot help teasing her sometimes. 
 It is not so surprising, after all, that Anna should 
 have said yes to him. He has a most eloquently 
 persuasive manner of speech. I remember when we 
 all lived back in York State he used to "talk the 
 warts off" from the boy's hands. It sounds silly to 
 say it, but the warts did go away, as Hiram told 
 them to do ! And he used to tell us with a perfectly 
 serious countenance that he could "whistle the birds 
 into his pockets." We believed him, for he showed us 
 the birds to prove it! I think he must have "whis- 
 tled" Anna into his hand! And she seems entirely 
 satisfied, and I suppose I ought to be the same. v 
 She looks perfectly contented, radiantly happy, and 
 adorably lovely as she sits here in the candle- 
 light, with her shining head bent above her pretty 
 stitchery. 
 
 Out on the deck someone is playing on some 
 strange instrument the strangest music. Though 
 
40 PILGRIMS OF THE PLAINS 
 
 it is not loud it is all-pervasive, compelling in its 
 accent. My pen will try to run irregularly to its 
 rhythm, and Anna's needle is marking time. The 
 flowing melody is, at times, airily tender, pene- 
 tratingly sweet; and again, in the broken chords 
 there is something that hints of things wild and 
 terrible. Yet the tone is always a muted one, 
 a whispered suggestion rather than a definite sound. 
 It might be a voice from another world. I cannot 
 tell what it is like! The tone is softer, richer, 
 sweeter, and smoother than the tone of a violin 
 I do not know and I do not want to ask about it. 
 It is enough just to listen to listen and to dream. 
 
 John is sitting up in his berth reading "The Last 
 of the Mohicans" one of Mr. Cooper's exciting 
 tales. Last year at home John and George and I 
 read "The Deerslayer" and "The Prairie," sit- 
 ting out under the trees, with the spring branch 
 flowing over its white pebbles at our feet. The 
 charm of the scenes the novelist describes will always 
 be a part of our consciousness, as if we had with our 
 own eyes beheld them. To me they are as real as 
 the pictures my eyes are each day resting upon; for 
 this real life seems unreal, and the days are passing 
 as if in a dream. 
 
 I lie on a pile of soft deerskins at the very edge 
 
RIVER DREAMS 41 
 
 of the boat, where I can lean over, and touch with 
 my finger-tips the cool water as it ripples away from 
 the rudder. Looking down into the translucent 
 brown-shadowed depths I can see dim shapes, 
 gnome-like, mysterious, fascinating! And out across 
 the flood where the sunshine falls, it is all a blur of 
 scintillating diamond-sparkles, tossing and flashing, 
 as the tiny wave-crests rise and fall. Their infinite 
 rhythmic recurrence lulls the senses into quiescence. 
 The kiss of the sun upon the eyelids blinds us so we 
 can no longer distinguish between fact and fancy. 
 It is all too easy to believe that the boat is swinging 
 idly at anchor, and that it is the shore that is in 
 motion, like a strange and glorious canvas, unroll- 
 ing itself before our eyes, a wonderful panorama! 
 
 Here is a rocky cliff like an ancient castle, 
 battlemented, turreted, richly draped with clinging 
 vines. I dwell upon the picture with delight. 
 Then it passes, and another scene takes its place. 
 A poet's bower a green tree-sheltered glade, 
 through which a golden foaming streamlet flows. 
 And here, upon a high grassy knoll, quite within 
 arrow-shot, a herd of deer with their fawns quietly 
 grazing. They raise their heads and gaze upon us 
 calmly, showing no sign of fear, as if indeed they 
 were pictured wild things, and our boat were but a 
 painted boat. 
 
42 PILGRIMS OF THE PLAINS 
 
 A fairy island! Seen through the gray mist of 
 early evening, it is wraith-like, spirit-like. Upon 
 the level greensward stands a circle of tender- 
 foliaged young elm-trees slim, elegant, graceful, 
 like a group of young maidens, with arms uplifted 
 and finger-tips touching to form a magic play-ring. 
 Filmy wisps of vapor are twining in and out among 
 the branches, like the visible garments of unseen 
 woodland sprites, whose silvery elfin laughter we 
 may almost expect to hear! 
 
 The whole scene is instinct with conscious joyous 
 life. Stars, and trees, and evening mists! They 
 are no dead inert things, they are alive, part of 
 the great miracle of Creation: and who shall say 
 they have not some conscious joy in doing God's 
 bidding in following the laws He has laid down 
 for their guidance. 
 
 The child believes in fairies, fairies in tree and 
 flower, in star and cloud. The poet believes in such 
 visions also: and we may be sure that child's fancy 
 and poet's vision each fall far short of the real truth, 
 if we could but know it as it is. 
 
 The boat is swinging in its course around a rocky 
 islet, to the eastward. The newly risen moon has 
 spilled her cup of silver wine upon the waters, and 
 we are following along the shining track. 
 
RIVER DREAMS 43 
 
 On nights like these, when the moon shines bright, 
 and the stars try to rival her in glory when the 
 murmur of music is in the air, and the odors of 
 Spring come to us upon the breeze what can 
 one do, but dream of things glorious, mysterious, 
 unknowable? 
 
 Only a moment can the dreams last. The thin 
 ether of the upper regions is not ours to breathe! 
 The blue empyrean is not ours to soar in! We have 
 no wings: our flights of fancy are not truly flights 
 but mere upspringings ! The dear good common 
 things of this beautiful every-day world pluck at 
 our garments, and bring us back to earth, where 
 we belong! So it is ever! So it is to-night! 
 
 John has laid his book aside, and has drawn his 
 curtains for the night. Hiram is covering down the 
 coals in the fireplace with gray ashes. Someone has 
 carried off my inkstand and sand-box, and by 
 these signs I know it is bedtime! 
 
CHAPTER VII 
 THE VIOL D'AMORE 
 
 I NEVER once thought of its being Joe-Lu the 
 Negro boy who was playing last night. And 
 it was not a violin upon which he played, but a 
 strange instrument of his own fashioning, a beau- 
 tiful instrument polished and inlaid with ivory and 
 mother-of-pearl; bigger than a violin, shaped 
 like an old-time viol (Tamore, and strung with seven 
 strings. I suppose no one but Joe-Lu could play 
 upon it, but in his hands it is a marvel. Auguste 
 and Franchy think Joe-Lu a "mos' won'erful 
 player," and I agree with them. 
 
 "No," Franchy says, "nobody play lak dat Joe- 
 Lu! All de boat on de river 'ave got de feedle, of 
 course, to mek merry for de dance de game 
 for de singin' wid, but dey not lak dis feedle 
 w'at Joe-Lu make! I t'ink dat feedle 'mos' play 
 'imself, it go dat easy w'en Joe-Lu tuck 'im under 'is 
 chin! Yaas! You may believe me! an' w'en 
 dat bow go crash! t'rough dem string, it lif my 
 feet off'n de groun', an' make my 'eart come up in 
 
THE VIOL D'AMORE 45 
 
 my t'roat! Ooee! same lak it was de 'ole orchestra, 
 it dat strong! Sometimes it fonny an' gay, an' 
 sometime so sweet, to mek cry! Ev'ybody on de 
 river say dey no one lak Joe-Lu for de music! An' 
 dey been tellin' us, 'For w'y you no send dat boy 
 back to your France to mek one great musician of 
 'im? 'E show dem w'at music is! An' 'e mek 
 'imself rich, an' mek you rich, too, for 'e your 
 property, an' w'at 'e make, it jus' same lak you 
 make it for yourself!' An' Auguste an' me we 
 t'ink we do dat w'en we get rich! Dat long 
 time off eh? Yaas! 
 
 "Some people call dat boy 'nigger'! Dat mek 
 me mad! For w'y, 'e mos' same lak broder to me, 
 'is mammy she nurse us both togedder at 'er breas', 
 w'en I li'l sick boy. I ain't never shame of Joe-Lu, 
 nor of mammy Jule, neider! She fines' nigger- 
 woman in de worl', tall an' straight lak poplar 
 tree, an' 'er eyes lak coals of fire! Ev'ybody 'fraid 
 of 'er, 'ceptin' only us chillern. Dey call 'er Voodoo, 
 an' conjur! Maybe so! But she lak mother to us, 
 rock us in 'er ahms an' sing always de same song. 
 We not know w'at dat song mean de words lak 
 she sing w'en she li'l girl before de slave men 
 steal 'er Affican words but de music it soun' 
 lak love-song an' we not forget dat song jus' 
 lak she sing it. 
 
46 PILGRIMS OF THE PLAINS 
 
 "She sing it, dat night w'en she lay 'erself down 
 on 'er bed to die: an' dat night she tell w'at she 
 nevair tell before, 'bout Joe-Lu. She say w'en dey 
 get 'er on dat slave-ship, an' de ship it come mos' to 
 shore, she skin out'n de li'l window an' drop 'erself 
 in de sea, an' swim an' swim, long time, till she come 
 to swamp Florida swamp an' take up wid 
 Injun Seminole w'at be Joe-Lu's pappy. Joe- 
 Lu got no right to be slave 'tall for 'is pappy was no 
 slave, nor 'is mammy neider, till de hunters catch 
 'er an' sell 'er to my fader. Den Joe-Lu was born, 
 an' me born, too, an' she nurse us both, me firs' 
 an' den Joe-Lu, mos' lak we be twins!" 
 
 Both Auguste and Franchy love the boy Joe-Lu, 
 and trust him fully, but I cannot conquer a little 
 spasm of fear as I look upon him. I seem to see 
 something cruel, untamed, and dangerous, beneath 
 that impassive exterior. I suppose it is because I 
 have been told of the Indian blood that is in him, 
 and the wilder strain that comes from his Voodoo, 
 <c conjur" mammy. 
 
 It is the deference that men pay to genius, that 
 accounts for the way Joe-Lu is treated. He is never 
 called upon to perform any heavy tasks. He helps 
 with the handling of the boat, but otherwise his 
 time is his own. It is not he who does the daily 
 drudgery! Auguste and Rob take turns with their 
 
THE VIOL D'A MORE 47 
 
 simple cookery, and it is always big Rob who keeps 
 the deck scrubbed and in order. 
 
 The four men eat their meals out on the forward 
 deck, sitting on the planks, in a circle around the 
 "kittle" of meat. They spear out the chunks with 
 their sharp-pointed clasp-knives, which they thrust, 
 in most reckless fashion, half-way down their throats. 
 
 They "sop" their "johnny-cake" in the "meat- 
 fryin's," and stuff it into their already overfull 
 mouths, and swallow it all in one great gulp! They 
 make a " molasses-pudden " of corn-bread stirred 
 thick in boiling-hot molasses. If they put in a 
 handful of raisins that makes it "plum-pudden"! 
 Having these dainties and a quart cup full of black 
 much-boiled coffee, they have supped like kings 
 and truly kings might envy them their appetites! 
 Rude manners? Yes, but rudeness like that does 
 not necessarily indicate coarseness of nature! They 
 mean to be punctiliously polite. They always doff 
 their caps, when Anna and I speak to them, and 
 they carefully refrain from boisterous talk, if we are 
 within hearing. 
 
 It is the finest compliment to our German "pro- 
 fessor-man," Mr. Ernst Breunner, that they have 
 taken him into their confidence as they have. They 
 do not seem to recognize that there is any difference 
 between him and Himey; which is as it should be. 
 
48 PILGRIMS OF THE PLAINS 
 
 In their eyes he is simply a true manly man, heartily 
 interested in all that is going on around him. He 
 listens as they relate incidents of life in the big 
 woods of the North, and in the French Settlements, 
 down along the Mississippi; and in his turn he tells 
 of his experiences in the Black Forest of the Rhine, 
 and in our own Catskill Mountains and in the Huron 
 lake region. 
 
 Two years ago Mr. Breunner accepted a professor- 
 ship in Harvard College, and since that time he has 
 spent all of his vacation-time out-of-doors, studying 
 the mineral resources of our country, and its fos- 
 sils and plant-life, all for the use of the University in 
 Germany where he used to be a student the Uni- 
 versity of Gottingen. This friend of his the Baron 
 Friedrich Ehrlich von Munsterberg whom he 
 expects to meet in Alton, is one of the "Professoren" 
 of Gottingen, and he is expecting to take back with 
 him to Germany Mr. Breunner's book of notes. 
 
 "And now he can't," John told me, "because of 
 his broken arm. There is a lot of writing to be 
 done on it yet and he can't hold a pen ! I told 
 him about you, that you are used to writing for 
 father, and from dictation, and that you would be 
 glad as anything to do that little for him. Of 
 course he says he doesn't want to trouble you, but 
 if you offer to do it, he won't say no." 
 
THE VIOL D'AMORE 49 
 
 I was really pleased that I could be of service to 
 " the professor." His drawings were made, and it 
 was only necessary to write out a very few pages of 
 description, and I had no difficulty in this. When 
 he saw that I was interested in the work, he showed 
 me several of his beautifully kept note-books. The 
 sketches of scenery that were scattered through the 
 pages were exquisite things simply drawn, with- 
 out unnecessary lines, but marvelously effective! 
 They are somehow suggestive of light, and atmos- 
 phere, and distance like the etchings done by the 
 old Dutch and French artists, that I saw in Mr. 
 Jarvis' collection when we were East last year. It 
 seemed to me then that there was something almost 
 uncanny in it, that a few scratchy black lines on 
 white paper could so represent to our minds such dif- 
 ferent things, shining sun, shimmering pools, and 
 the dark tempestuous moods of earth and sky. There 
 is something uncanny in it there is genius in it, 
 and genius is uncanny, whether it be genius of musi- 
 cian, of poet, or of artist. 
 
 Mr. Breunner told us that his father, and all his 
 father's people, had been artists by profession, for 
 many generations. 
 
 "I never knew the time when I could not draw. 
 It is quite as easy to learn to draw the true outlines 
 of what you see before you as it is to learn to write, 
 
50 PILGRIMS OF THE PLAINS 
 
 indeed, it should be much easier. The drawing 
 of pictures is the natural method of recording im- 
 pressions: you see an object, you notice its shape, 
 you put that shape upon paper what could be 
 easier? Writing is an altogether artificial proceed- 
 ing. Certain arbitrary forms letters are com- 
 bined in certain arbitrary sequences to make the 
 written word, which we learn to associate with the 
 spoken word. A difficult, complicated, artificial 
 process." 
 
 It sounds reasonable as he explains it, and it 
 seems as if any one with eyes ought to be able to 
 put the shape of things on paper. If one only could 
 how it would save long pages of description! I 
 think that I will try to make a picture of the 
 "Anna-Eve." I do not want to leave the pretty 
 boat without having something that looks a little 
 bit like it just by way of remembrance. 
 
 John just called to me to come out on deck, to 
 see the big racers. Two steamboats were coming 
 up-river the " Elvira " and the " Indian Belle." 
 Their decks were crowded with excited passengers, 
 
 screaming and shouting as first one and then the 
 other boat seemed to gain some little advantage. 
 It is a notable race, best three trips out of five 
 from St. Louis to Rock Island, the winner to have 
 
THE VIOL D'A MORE 51 
 
 the right to wear the splendid pair of gilded elk- 
 horns which the "Elvira" is now so proudly display- 
 ing at the crest of her pilot-house. It was Auguste 
 who gave me these particulars. 
 
 "De ' Elvira ' carry dose horn for two season al- 
 ready, but dis time she lose dem! Dat Cap'n Orton 
 of de * Belle/ 'e will snatch de * Elvira' bald-'eaded! 
 'E get dose horn, dis trip! Smartes' Cap'n on de 
 river! 'E make de two out of de five already, an' 'e'll 
 make it t'ree! Ooee! See dat black smoke out of de 
 'Belle's' smokestack! Dey a-shovin' de rosin an' 
 pitch-pine into 'er! Bacon, too, I wouldn't wonder! 
 Dat make gr-r-reat fire! 'Ear de people on de 'Belle' 
 a-cheerin'! Look! She jus' jumpin' away from dat 
 blue-belly ' Elvira ' lak a deer, w'en a bullet after 
 it! No! To race it is not safe! But dey not 
 care, not'in', only so be dey win! Dey all be bettin' 
 big on dis race! Yaas! An' cry to put more fire 
 under de biler an' it a poppin' fit to bust ! Dem 
 fellers w'at is on de boat, if it blow up, w'ere dey 
 be? Wat's de use of winnin' if de boat busts up, 
 an' you on 'er, eh? I bet on de 'Belle,' but I not go 
 on 'er, till de race is over! But dere be planty 
 fools w'at lak de fon. Da's all right for dem, but 
 not for me!" 
 
 The big boats steamed up abreast of us. The 
 throb of the laboring engines was in the air. The 
 
52 PILGRIMS OF THE PLAINS 
 
 big side- wheels beat the water into flying spray. 
 Great waves rolled shoreward, and the "Anna-Eve" 
 rocked dangerously. The boys in their interest had 
 ventured too near the racing monsters, and had for- 
 gotten all about safety. They danced up and down, 
 and gesticulated and screamed encouragement to the 
 crew of the "Belle" and they almost fell over- 
 board when, from his place in the pilot-house, the 
 pilot waved them a greeting! His condescension so 
 great! They so honored! 
 
 To any river-man a pilot is a creature set apart 
 like a royal personage ! so independent, so power- 
 ful, so despotic a being is he. 
 
 We are making the quickest run on record, for a 
 keel-boat, so all the boys say. It takes constant 
 vigilance to keep out where the current runs strong- 
 est, to keep out of swirling eddies, off from treacher- 
 ous mud-banks, and free from floating drift. There 
 are four men at the oars night and day, but they do 
 not seem to mind the work and the loss of sleep. 
 
 They, too, are racing against time! They have 
 pledged themselves to drop anchor at the Alton 
 wharf on Sunday, and unless there should some 
 accident befall us, they will be able to keep their 
 pledge. 
 
CHAPTER VIII 
 
 I 
 
 THE FRAGRANCE OF LOCUST-BLOOM 
 
 LAST night we were out on deck till midnight. 
 The swift current was sending us dancing 
 down-stream! The boys were trying a new 
 "cut-off," "right cross-lots of somebody's cornfield, 
 I reckon," Himey said. 
 
 The boys scanned every ripple and line of foam, 
 watchful lest they should ground on some ridge, or 
 strike a tearing "sawyer"; and, for all their care, 
 we were almost "hung up" in the tangle of a locust- 
 thicket. The heavy-weighted branches swept across 
 the deck, and we gathered armfuls of the wave- wet 
 blooms. 
 
 I thought of the locust-lane at home! I could 
 see it the purple dusty double track, made by 
 hoofs and wheels, the fresh green strip of untrodden 
 grass in the middle; and on either side of the road, 
 the locust trees with their drooping sprays of blos- 
 soms, honey-sweet! And then I remembered that 
 it was Saturday night, and the girls would be, at 
 that very minute, going down the lane, on their 
 
54 PILGRIMS OF THE PLAINS 
 
 way to the Saturday night Singing-school. They 
 would be breathing the fragrance of locust flowers, 
 and looking up to the same shining golden moon 
 thinking of John and Deya, just as we were 
 thinking of them. 
 
 1 sat on the deck, close to John's couch, and 
 I could feel his quick breathing, as he laid his 
 arm around my neck. We were both thinking of 
 home. 
 
 Joe-Lu took up his fiddle, and touched the strings 
 lightly with his "feedle-bow." Music from some- 
 where far away answered to that touch. It was 
 like sleepy nestlings calling to each other. Then it 
 came in gayer measures, and, finally, through subtle 
 modulations complicated and perplexing, it swung 
 into the wildest, sweetest melody! 
 
 This music is a mystery to me. It seems to 
 follow no law, unless it is a law of its own. Its 
 cadences are strange and bewildering, its accent 
 capricious, its phrases tantalizing, unsatisfying, 
 incomplete. 
 
 How can one so rude and uncultured as this poor 
 Joe-Lu have the power to set the heart a-throbbing 
 with emotions so complex, so profound, so subtly 
 exquisite, so almost divine? What does his music 
 mean to him? 
 
FRAGRANCE OF LOCUST-BLOOM 55 
 
 I could but watch him as he stood, without sup- 
 port, on the very edge of the boat a dark sil- 
 houette against the silver-sparkling water. His 
 black-bronze face was as devoid of expression as if 
 it were of bronze indeed. But the hand that held 
 the bow, and the fingers that hovered over the 
 strings, were eloquent; and his whole form yielded 
 itself to the rhythm of the music, as a tree is swayed 
 by the summer wind. 
 
 I wondered what aspirations were stirring at his 
 heart what vague enchantments were dancing 
 before his eyes! 
 
 It was a night of more than earthly splendor. 
 The world was drenched in the warm moon-beams; 
 and John and I, and Anna were content to sit 
 and dream. But Hiram had no notion of allow- 
 ing anybody to indulge in moonlight reveries. 
 He would rather make it a time of moonlight 
 revelry! 
 
 He and big Rob were singing, turn and turn 
 about, all the quaint old songs they knew 
 "Barbara Allen" and "Lord Lovel" and "Black- 
 eyed Susan," and "I'll hang my harp on a 
 willow-tree." 
 
 Rob roared out the verses of "Captain Kidd" 
 and the chilly little creeps went up and down my 
 spine as he sang. 
 
56 PILGRIMS OF THE PLAINS 
 
 "My parents taught me well, as I sailed, as I sailed, 
 To shun the gates of hell, as I sailed. 
 I cursed my father dear, and her that did me bear, 
 And so wickedly did swear, as I sailed, as I sailed, 
 And so wickedly did swear, as I sailed. 
 
 "I'd a Bible in my hand, when I sailed, when I sailed, 
 But I sunk it in the sand as I sailed. 
 I made a solemn vow, to God I would not bow, 
 Nor myself one prayer allow, when I sailed, when I sailed, 
 Nor myself one prayer allow, when I sailed. 
 
 "I murdered William Moore as I sailed, as I sailed. 
 And left him in his gore as I sailed. 
 And being cruel still, my gunner I did kill, 
 And much precious blood did spill, as I sailed, as I sailed, 
 And much precious blood did spill as I sailed. 
 
 "My name was Robert Kidd as I sailed, as I sailed, 
 My name was Robert Kidd, as I sailed. 
 My name was Robert Kidd, God's laws I did forbid, 
 And so wickedly I did, as I sailed, as I sailed, 
 And so wickedly I did, as I sailed!" 
 
FRAGRANCE OF LOCUST-BLOOM 57 
 
 Auguste sang in French one of the popular 
 songs of the "voyageurs" something about how a 
 man changes his sweetheart with every Springtime 
 
 "Tout les printemps." 
 
 "Qu'ils changent qui voudront, 
 Pour moi je garde la mienne." 
 
 Hiram's contribution to the evening's concert was 
 the ancient ballad the supposedly tragic ballad 
 
 of "The Brown Girl and Fair Eleanor." This 
 song has "been in Hiram's family" for many gen- 
 erations, passed down, from mother to daughter, 
 and from father to son. "And I reckon it wa'n't 
 never printed." There were thirty-seven verses, as 
 Hiram sang it, and he thinks that he has forgotten 
 some! It is a real three- volume novel set to music! 
 
 
 
 m 
 
 *-+ 
 
 w - 
 
 
 m 
 
 " * O mother, dear mother, come read my riddle, ere ever the sun 
 
 goes down, 
 O, shall I marry Fair Eleanor, or bring the Brown Girl home? ' 
 
 "The Brown Girl, she has house and lands, Fair Eleanor, she 
 
 has none, 
 
 Therefore I advise you as your best friend, to bring the Brown 
 Girl home.' 
 
58 PILGRIMS OF THE PLAINS] 
 
 "He rode till he came to Fair Eleanor's hall, to invite her to 
 
 his wedding. 
 
 There was none so ready as Fan* Eleanor was to rise and let 
 him in. 
 
 "She dressed herself in scarlet and gold, her waiting-maids in 
 
 green, 
 
 And every city that they passed through, they took her to be 
 the queen. 
 
 "She rode till she came to Lord Thomas' hall, she rapped so 
 
 loud it did ring, 
 
 There was none so ready as Lord Thomas was, to rise and let 
 her in. 
 
 "He took her by her lily-white hand and led her across the 
 
 hall, 
 
 And he seated her at the head of the table, among the gentles 
 all. 
 
 "'Lord Thomas,' says she, 'is this your bride? She is so very 
 
 brown. 
 
 And you might have had as fan- a lady, as ever the sun shone 
 on.' 
 
 "The Brown Girl had a little knife, with a blade so keen and 
 
 sharp, 
 
 And she pierced Fair Eleanor through, and she pierced Fair 
 Eleanor's heart. 
 
 "'Fair Eleanor, why do you sigh, why is your cheek so wan? 
 Thou art my own, my one true love, the fairest the sun shines 
 on.' 
 
 "'Lord Thomas/ said she, 'it's are you blind, or can't you very 
 
 well see? 
 
 It is my own, my own heart's blood, a-trickling down to my 
 knee!' 
 
FRAGRANCE OF LOCUST-BLOOM 59 
 
 "He took the Brown Girl by the hand and led her across the 
 
 hall, 
 
 And with a broad sword cut her head off, and flung it against 
 the wall. 
 
 "Then he put the handle against the wall, the point against 
 
 his breast. 
 
 Said he, 'Here's the death of three true lovers, a-lying down 
 to rest. 
 
 "'O mother, dear mother, go dig my grave, and dig it both wide 
 
 and deep; 
 
 And put Fair Eleanor in my arms and the Brown Girl at my 
 feet.' 
 
 "And out of her heart there sprung a rose, and out of his 
 
 a brier; 
 
 And they grew and twined in a true-love knot, which lovers 
 always admire." 
 
 I have promised to write out all of the thirty- 
 seven verses for Mr. Breunner. He is interested in 
 the poem as a literary curiosity. Many of these old- 
 time ballads are much older than the art of printing. 
 They are the imperfectly transmitted fragments of , 
 the romance-songs, sung by troubadours and min- 
 strels, in kings' courts, in the days of the Long-ago! 
 They are quite as well worth preserving so Mr. 
 Breunner says as the Nibelungenlied, or the old 
 Norse Sagas, inasmuch as they give a more or less 
 true picture of life as it was in the olden times. 
 
 This song of "Fair Eleanor and the Brown Girl" 
 lends itself easily to burlesque, and as Hiram sang 
 
60 PILGRIMS OF THE PLAINS 
 
 it in a fine high falsetto, it was irresistibly funny. 
 We laughed and laughed, till the echoes all laughed 
 with us. 
 
 And then I thought I heard another laugh that 
 was not an echo. It seemed to come from some- 
 where out on the river, but I only heard it once, 
 and I could not tell for sure. Later we were all 
 singing, "Farewell, farewell to thee, Araby's daugh- 
 ter!" when a flute-like tenor voice a stranger's 
 voice, from somewhere took up the melody, and 
 sang the song with us, measure for measure, word 
 for word! 
 
 It was deliciously mysterious! There were so 
 many tricksy echoes abroad, we could not tell where 
 the singer might be; and he must have been right 
 near us, on one of the little half-submerged islands 
 left in the middle of the river. For after we had 
 floated a long ways down-stream we looked back 
 and saw the red glow of a campfire, and the blaze 
 flared up high for an instant, and then it was gone. 
 
CHAPTER IX 
 HIRAM'S BILL OF SALE 
 
 ris not nearly so easy as one might think, to 
 draw a picture. I have been working on a 
 sketch of the "Anna-Eve" for hours, rubbing 
 out the lines as fast as I made them, and now it 
 is not at all satisfactory. I could only put down a 
 few lines, as we stood on the bluff at Alton, and 
 I have had to finish it as best I could here in the 
 house, working on this rickety little table, with only 
 the big roses of the wall-paper to remind me of what 
 the out-of-doors ought to be! 
 
 I wish I could somehow express the force and 
 might of the great river sweeping by, the gentle 
 beauty of the distant wooded banks, the bright- 
 ness of the azure sky. It is not a picture, as Mr. 
 Breunner's sketches are; but after all it means 
 something to me, it will serve to recall the real 
 scene, it will keep memory's picture from fading 
 out of my mind. 
 
 I have been looking back through the pages of 
 this Journal. It would seem that I had bestowed 
 
62 PILGRIMS OF THE PLAINS 
 
 an immense amount of time upon it, but I haven't. 
 It is a pleasure to me to sit with the book before 
 me, and think over what has transpired, while the 
 words trip over themselves in their hurry to put 
 themselves on paper! I think it must be that it is 
 because my ink is so good it flows so freely from 
 the pen. 
 
 For years, ever since she left Dixon, Cousin 
 Elinor and I have kept up a voluminous corre- 
 spondence. Father has always been a little amused 
 by it, and Martha wonders how we find so much 
 to say to each other. And now I am just making 
 believe that this is a "to-be-continued" letter to 
 Cousin Elinor, and I know she will think that 
 she will have to read it all, when she comes down to 
 see us at Thanksgiving time. So, Cousin Elinor, I 
 will take up the narrative, where I left it, when 
 we were just above Alton. 
 
 We reached that city on Sunday afternoon, and 
 anchored in a little cove under Prospect Hill. Though 
 Mr. Breunner was in haste to go up into the city, 
 he did not forget to bid each one of us adieu, in his 
 nice polite formal foreign fashion. He took my 
 hand lightly in his and raised it to his lips. In his 
 gaze, as his eyes met mine, was something serious 
 and earnest, something deep and strange. I can- 
 
HIRAM'S BILL OF SALE 63 
 
 not express what I mean; only I felt that we had 
 not understood him as we should have done. 
 
 Auguste and Franchy and Joe-Lu were born in 
 Alton, and lived there till they were seven or eight 
 years old; and, as was natural enough, they were 
 anxious to spend a few hours there, before we went 
 on down to St. Louis. Auguste insisted that "de 
 ladies mus' be tired of dat boat, not get off her for 
 four days dey be mighty glad to set deir foot on 
 shore! Yaas! W'y no we 'ave de picnic-supper up 
 on de top of dose bluff? Dat be fine? Eh? " 
 
 As an extra inducement they offered to show us a 
 "mos' won'erful picture de picture of de 'Piasa- 
 Bird' painted up high on de bluff! Ev'ybody 
 on de Mississip' know 'bout dat picture, so ol' 
 dat de ol'est Injun not 'ave de tradition 'ow it come 
 to be dere so dey say 'Thunder-God' paint 'im 
 dere! De Medicine-man 'e tell 'em dat dat Piasa- 
 Bird carry off two Miami warrior," Auguste low- 
 ered his voice to a tragic whisper, "yaas, and 
 eat 'em! Dat ve'y picture did dat! Mighty ol' 
 picture! Pere Marquette, w'en 'e firs' come down 
 de Mississip', 'e see it, an' say it mos' won'erful! 
 I want for to see dat Piasa-Bird again, myself! 
 Our fader an' moder dey live over on dat Piasa- 
 street, an' Franchy an' Joe-Lu an' me one time 
 we t'ink we be so brave an' smart! We run away 
 
64 PILGRIMS OF THE PLAINS 
 
 an' come up on de hill an 5 t'row stone, an' shoot 
 arrow at dat Piasa-Bird! I tell you, for sure, dat 
 picture roll 'is eyes at us, an' stick out 'is red tongue! 
 We t'ink 'e did, anyhow, an' we skeer mos' to 
 death, an' skoot for 'ome, an' be good for mos' a 
 month! Eh, Franchy?" 
 
 So, in order to satisfy the boys, when the boat 
 came to anchor above the Alton wharf, Auguste and 
 Hiram and I clambered up the steep bluff. It was 
 with something like real awe in his manner that 
 Auguste pointed out the Piasa-Bird to us. In days 
 gone by it must have seemed a terrible apparition 
 to the superstitious savages. 
 
 It is a nondescript creature, with outspread wings, 
 a scaly tail, head and horns of a goat, a man's dis- 
 torted face, fiery eyes, and a mouth dropping gouts 
 of blood. But all this is to be only dimly seen, for 
 its outlines are blurred, and the once bright colors 
 are faded by the suns and rains of uncounted sea- 
 sons. Yet its colossal size, the inaccessibility of the 
 place where it is found, the mystery of its origin, 
 all combine to make it an impressive object still. 
 
 My imagination played me no tricks. I did not 
 think it rolled its age-dimmed eyes at me, but I was 
 ready to "skoot" for the boat, when Auguste gave 
 the word. And Anna and I made ready the "picnic- 
 supper," which Hiram carried up the hill. As if it 
 
HIRAM'S BILL OF SALE 65 
 
 were only a foolish bit of play, Franchy and Joe-Lu 
 made a "queen's chair" with their clasped hands, 
 and they made John let them carry him up the 
 steepest part of the slope. 
 
 We had not thought of the irksomeness of our 
 cramped quarters on the boat till we stood on the 
 heights, and felt the fresh breeze blowing, and looked 
 out across the shining river with its tree-clad shores. 
 
 I had only just begun my picture of the boat 
 when Anna called me to come to supper. And we 
 idled away the time, till the church-bells were ring- 
 ing, when we went down into the city. 
 
 Everyone was out enjoying the beautiful May 
 evening. Church-people were on their way to 
 evening meeting, and others were gathered in festive 
 groups on the street-corners, the girls dressed in 
 gayest attire, each one trying to outdo the others in 
 the bigness of her bonnet, the breadth of her hoop- 
 skirt, and the quantity of flowers and jewelry with 
 which she was bedecked. Anna and I were almost 
 ashamed of our plain costumes. It was at Anna's 
 suggestion that we turned into one of the quieter 
 streets, but here we were jostled by a crowd of 
 rough men, who were shouting and swearing, and 
 and we saw one of them turn back to spit upon the 
 pavement ! It was the pavement stained by the blood 
 of Lovejoy! In a hushed voice Auguste told me: 
 
66 PILGRIMS OF THE PLAINS 
 
 "Yaas, dat is w'ere Lovejoy was keel! De mob 
 shoot 'im down, right on dat ve'y place! 'E 
 publish Abolition paper. 'E not stop for no one's 
 say so! An' de mob come! I seen 'em! I 'eard 
 de guns seen 'im t'row up 'is ahms, an' twis' 
 'isself roun', an' drap to de groun'! An' dat hell- 
 crowd wipe de blood wid deir 'ankerchief an' shout, 
 an' go way laughin'! I not Abolition, but I say, 
 w'atever, dat mos' wicked act!" 
 
 I glanced quickly around. In the dusk, the whole 
 dreadful scene seemed to re-enact itself before my 
 eyes. I think Anna felt something of the same 
 terror, for she seized my hand and made me run 
 with her down to the boat. 
 
 Big Rob knew of this boarding-place, here in St. 
 Louis, and he escorted us as far as the front door, and 
 beat a hasty retreat. He was anxious to be down 
 on the levee with Hiram, and John would go too. 
 
 Anna and I spent the day indoors, she busy, 
 as usual, with her needle, and I with my pen. We 
 did not expect to see the men till supper-time, there 
 was so much for them to do, Hiram's boat to 
 dispose of, tickets to buy for the Missouri-river trip; 
 and our trapper friends would have to find a market 
 for their furs. 
 
 It was eight o'clock when they came trooping up 
 
HIRAM'S BILL OF SALE 67 
 
 the stairs, in the gayest of spirits, but I noticed 
 that it was Auguste and Franchy and Rob who 
 were doing all the talking! Hiram was not saying 
 anything! 
 
 "Sure we got de bes' of news! Sold dem bale of 
 fur, all for de top-notch price, an' dey mighty 
 glad to get 'em, seem lak! Dose silver-fox dat 
 w'at take Frangois Chouteau's eye! an' dem 
 beaver skin, sof ' as silk, 'e say ! Dat was beeg 
 pile of money 'e count out to us! Too beeg to trow 
 away, you bet! W'at you say, Miss Hubbard, if 
 we go in partners wid dat 'usband of yours? Yaas! 
 Dat 'ard-fisted ol' miser dere, dat Himey! We go 
 in togedder an' all buy goods for de trade wid Santa 
 Pe! Dat be one fine scheme, eh? Firs' time we 
 ever get out of St. Louis wid ten dollars! Now 
 Himey, 'e keep de money in 'is jeans, not let us 
 look at it till we get miles away from dis city. 'E 
 keep it safe, yaas! Only 'e be not so smart 'bout 
 'is own business! W'at you say? We t'ink dat 'e 
 done give 'is boat away! Yaas, done give it to a 
 stranger-man, w'at 'e nevair see before!" 
 
 Hiram really looked shame-faced and a little 
 anxious as he explained the transaction. 
 
 "There was a good-natured green-lookin' chap 
 down by the wharf thet wanted the boat/ and he 
 offered me nine hunderd dollars for her. Thinks I, 
 
68 PILGRIMS OF THE PLAINS 
 
 that's a pretty good profit on what she cost me, 
 countin' my time and all, but when it come to pay- 
 in' he hadn't no money, but only a lot of cow-critters 
 and such down by Sibley, clost to Westport and Inde- 
 pendence, on his brother's farm! I looked him over 
 pretty keen, and I sized him up to be an honest 
 feller, and so, says I, 'I'll resk it,' and we made out 
 a good strong bill of sale." Hiram spread out the 
 document upon the table, and followed the words 
 with his finger as he read. "'Forty head of oxens 
 and cow-critters, more or less, being all the stock now 
 owned by said Ury Dowton, and held by his brother, 
 said Oty Dowton, on his farm near Sibley, Missouri.' 
 
 "That feller was too green-lookin' to be anything 
 else than honest. Don't you think your Uncle 
 Fuller don't know an honest feller when he sees 
 him? If that Ury Dowton turns out to be a cheat 
 and a rogue, I'll eat the cat! 
 
 "The trade ain't a fair one, but it ain't me that's 
 got the wust of it! As I figgers it, them cow-critters 
 is worth full nine hunderd and half as much again! 
 But it was him that made the offer, and I wa'n't 
 gooney enough to hang back and say no!" 
 
 The boys jeered and laughed. 
 
 "Yaas! But w'at if, w'en you get to Sibley, you 
 fine dere is no broder! No farm, no oxens, no 
 not'ing, but dat bill of sale in your pocket? Dat 
 
HIRAM'S BILL OF SALE 
 
 69 
 
 be awful fonny! Eh? Yaas! We say dat be one 
 fine trade!" 
 
 Though they are bound to have their fun with 
 Hiram, I know they think it is all right! Hiram is 
 too keen to be easily fooled! 
 
 There is a concert down-stairs this evening, our 
 landlady's lovely daughter being the performer. 
 She has been in and out of our rooms all day, look- 
 ing over my shoulder while I was trying to sketch, 
 and begging quilt pieces from Anna. She invited 
 us down to see and hear her new melodeon. I have 
 been wild to run my fingers over its keys, but Anna 
 did not care to go down. 
 
 The doors are open so we can hear her sing of 
 course she knows that we are enjoying the song 
 such a very appropriate one! 
 
 vv ) 
 
 | J- Ps fx fv- ^ 1 -A 1- 
 
 j ' p f\ 
 
 r-9- 
 
 J-- J -L J- ' J- ' '-J. -J- - 
 
 1 
 
 -% r~ 
 
 "t~~ ~~f~ i N i^ i^ > is r. 
 
 T~<r\ 
 
 -$) \ 
 
 J J J J J J V 
 
 fs_, h p 
 
 L ^j / * 
 r0- 
 
 ^ '^ * g L - <^ tf '. 
 
 J-.V-J. ^ J 
 
 -sir- 
 
 -ir-^ r 
 
 s 1 1 j 
 
 "I'll chase the antelope over the plain; 
 The tiger's cub I'll bind with a chain; 
 And the wild gazelle, with its silvery feet, 
 I'll give to thee for a playmate sweet!" 
 
70 PILGRIMS OF THE PLAINS 
 
 By one of the papers that Hiram brought in, I see 
 that Charles Dickens, the English novelist, he who 
 wrote so touchingly of Little Nell, has only lately 
 left St. Louis having been here for the purpose of 
 studying our country. I wish, I wish, I could have 
 seen him! That would have been something to 
 remember, forever! 
 
CHAPTER X 
 THE EXPLOSION, AND A "BOWER-DANCE" 
 
 t I 'HERE will be no danger of monotony in 
 
 rthis journey, if all continues as it has 
 begun. Here, where we have not yet even 
 touched the threshold of the great prairie country, 
 we are brought face to face with romance, excite- 
 ment, and adventure. 
 
 As we stepped aboard the "Oceana" at St. Louis, 
 we followed right in the wake of a wedding-party! 
 The bride still wore her white veil, and all her wed- 
 ding finery. The bridegroom is evidently fearful 
 that the tender little creature who has been en- 
 trusted to his care may be suddenly snatched from 
 him, for he keeps her safe within the shelter of his 
 strong right arm, every blessed minute! The pas- 
 sengers call them the turtle-doves and when we 
 saw his name written in the clerk's book we found 
 it really was "Dove," although she calls him 
 darling ! 
 
 But these passengers are of little consequence 
 compared with one notable we have on board the 
 
72 PILGRIMS OF THE PLAINS 
 
 great Kit Carson himself! And besides Kit Carson, 
 we have the Fremont Exploring Expedition, with 
 Lieutenant Fremont in command. 
 
 Kit Carson is the hero of the hour. Everyone 
 knows of him. Everyone is sounding his praises. 
 He does not look at all as I thought he would. It 
 is natural that one should picture a scout and 
 Indian-fighter as big and rough and coarse, and Mr. 
 Carson is just the opposite of this. His well-knit 
 frame is slight and graceful. He is so modest and 
 quiet-spoken one might be excused for thinking him 
 youthful, inexperienced, and all unused to the hard- 
 ships of life. It is only by degrees that one comes 
 to realize that he is a man of exceptional strength 
 and exceptional force of character. 
 
 There are many stories going about, concerning 
 his exploits, of the bands of desperadoes he has 
 followed up and taken prisoner, and of the scores of 
 Indians he has slaughtered! I do not like to think 
 of these things. I am perfectly sure that he is not 
 cruel in his nature, and I know that if he has slaugh- 
 tered human beings and Indians, it is because he has 
 been forced to do so by the exigencies of warfare. 
 
 Though he is known as the "Terror of the Plains," 
 the Indians do not all fear and hate him, as was 
 shown, plainly enough, to-day. Four Indian braves, 
 with their squaws, were plodding along the swampy 
 
EXPLOSION AND BOWER-DANCE 73 
 
 bank, all dripping with mud and water and shivering 
 with the cold, and as we passed, they saw Carson 
 and called to him with every evidence of friendli- 
 ness. In their sign-language they made him under- 
 stand that their boat had sunk under them, snagged 
 by a ripping sawyer, a little ways down the river, 
 and that they were going to walk all the way to Her- 
 mann, twenty miles or more. 
 
 Carson persuaded Captain Miller to stop the 
 "Oceana," and take the poor half -drowned creatures 
 on board. They were not effusive in expressing 
 their thanks, Kit Carson being the only one among 
 us these kings of the ancient soil would deign to 
 notice. The big braves wrapped their blankets 
 tightly around them, and sat themselves down on 
 the hurricane-deck a row of particularly expres- 
 sionless mummies they seemed to be! The squaws 
 went down to the engine-room to dry and warm 
 themselves. One of them had such a pretty pap- 
 poose, and John was trying to get it to notice him, 
 and went with them down the stairs. Just after 
 they had disappeared, we felt a shock all through 
 the boat, and heard a muffled "boom!" A cloud 
 of steam immediately came rolling up from below, 
 and my first thought was that John was down 
 there, in the scalding steam! 
 
 I dropped down those stairs at a single bound, 
 
74 PILGRIMS OF THE PLAINS 
 
 and there was John, with the little Indian baby in 
 his arms, and John was smiling at my anxious face, 
 and no one was hurt! There wasn't anything so 
 very much the matter, the engineer said, only some- 
 thing-or-other had blown out of the boiler-head, and 
 had done no harm. 
 
 The engineer was explaining to one of the crew 
 that he could "fix her, good as ever, in half-an-hour," 
 when there was a sudden commotion up on deck. 
 Some of the passengers had gone crazy with fright, 
 and in a crowd were rushing to one side of the 
 vessel. The boat seemed about to turn turtle and 
 go down! 
 
 That engineer went into a raving fury, and began 
 swearing in the wickedest way! "Them panic- 
 struck fools will capsize this boat they ain't noth- 
 ing the matter, but they will send us to the bottom. 
 Why don't somebody tell them that the boat is all 
 right?" 
 
 He was looking at me as he spoke, and, without 
 ever stopping to think, I sprang up the stairs. 
 
 I was in the midst of the crazy, panic-stricken 
 crowd, and I am not sure but that I struck a big 
 man in the face who tried to thrust me aside! I 
 know I screamed at them like a fury and a terma- 
 gant! "There isn't any danger! The engineer 
 says there isn't any danger! It's all over! He 
 
EXPLOSION AND BOWER-DANCE 75 
 
 says so! You are making the boat tip over, your 
 own selves, crowding all to that side! You're crazy, 
 that's what he says! Get back to your places!" 
 
 They looked at me, and looked at each other, 
 dazed as if they had just wakened from a nightmare 
 dream and the panic was over ! They came back 
 to their senses, the boat came back to an even keel, 
 and I came down below to hide my shamed face in 
 the state-room. 
 
 I thought I never would want to go out to dinner, 
 or face those passengers again! It is most unbe- 
 coming for a gentle-bred woman to make herself so 
 conspicuous. I do not see how I could have done 
 it, but indeed I did not realize what I was say- 
 ing. I just repeated what the engineer said, 
 and I suppose I should be thankful I did not repeat 
 all he said ! I acted, first and thought about it 
 afterward. 
 
 "Just wouldn't Martha have been properly 
 shocked, though, if she could have seen you?" was 
 my brother John's nice way of consoling me! 
 
 There were so many other things happening, how- 
 ever, the people have, I think, almost forgotten the 
 part I had in the excitement. 
 
 When the boat made the first lurch to starboard, 
 Mr. Dove, with his bride in his arms, plunged into 
 the water, an involuntary plunge, I suppose it 
 
76 PILGRIMS OF THE PLAINS 
 
 was, but being out of the boat he had no mind to 
 go back to it! Encumbered as he was by the little 
 lady, he was swimming fast and far as he could, and 
 the boatmen whom the Captain sent after them 
 declared that they were not even trying to make 
 the shore. "They was headed for St. Louis, and 
 bound to keep a-going, and we could hardly get 
 them persuaded to come back with us!" 
 
 If some of the white folks were frightened foolish, 
 the Indians made up for it by not being frightened 
 at all! Wrapped in their blankets they sat in 
 silence, "and didn't blink an eye" nor make a single 
 move, till the boat turned in at Bates' Wood-yard, 
 where our boat, the "Oceana," is now lying by for 
 repairs. Then they majestically rose and stalked 
 away, and all they said was, "White man make big 
 noise, big fool, Indian walk!" 
 
 We have been here at the landing for hours 
 almost a whole day. The accident to our machinery 
 was greater than the engineer had at first supposed, 
 and now Captain Miller has decided to take the 
 boat back to St. Louis. 
 
 The "Oceana" looks as fine as the best of the 
 Ohio river boats. She has been newly painted, 
 white-and-gold, both inside and out. There is a 
 red velvet carpet in the Ladies' Cabin, and mahog- 
 any furniture, and a grand piano, and a big crystal 
 
EXPLOSION AND BOWER-DANCE 77 
 
 chandelier. But her engines are second-class, and 
 second-hand and out of repair, besides! The pas- 
 sengers say it is a wonder that we were not all 
 "blown sky-high." 
 
 Because nothing dreadful happened, they will not 
 treat the matter seriously, yet it was serious. This 
 steam-power is a dangerous thing. There is not a 
 season that a dozen boats are not blown up in ex- 
 plosions, and hundreds of passengers killed or in- 
 jured, yet we are willing to incur the extra risk, 
 because of the saving in time, and because of the 
 comforts and luxuries that are provided. 
 
 John says that Kit Carson has his hands full 
 trying to pacify Lieutenant Fremont, who is show- 
 ing himself restless and uneasy, impatient that 
 his Expedition is so delayed. Everyone knows that 
 Captain Miller is doing the best he can, under the 
 circumstances. He will wait here, and put us on 
 the first up-river boat that will take us. "And 
 what better can you ask than that?" the clerk says. 
 
 The men-passengers are making the best of the 
 situation. They are getting up a "bower-dance" 
 to pass the time away. They have borrowed lum- 
 ber from the boat's stores to make a dancing-plat- 
 form, and they have built up over it a bower of 
 young trees, cut down with all their wealth of 
 summer greenery thick upon them. 
 
78 PILGRIMS OF THE PLAINS 
 
 The "Oceana" has its own string band, and al- 
 ready the fiddlers are scraping with their bows upon 
 the strings. They have struck into the tunes, " Jim- 
 a-long-Josey" and "The Merrie Miner." I have 
 heard Uncle Asaph play them both, "a-many and 
 a-many a time," and perhaps that is why they 
 sound so quaint and sweet to me. 
 
 A dozen laughing couples are running down the 
 gang-plank, eager to be first upon the dancing- 
 floor. The white-haired old fiddler is calling off: 
 "Oh, the merrie miner! S'lute your pretty partner! 
 Ladies f orrard, men on the outside ! All jine hands, 
 and all hands round! Cross, and shake your foot, 
 and cross right back! Swing your gal, and pick 
 her up, and tote her home!" 
 
EXPLOSION AND BOWER-DANCE 79 
 
 "A boat in sight, coining up-river!" John and 
 Mr. Carson have been on the lookout. Though it 
 is four miles down-stream, Mr. Carson professes to 
 recognize it as the "Trapper" one of the American 
 Fur Company's boats with Pierre Chouteau as 
 Captain. 
 
CHAPTER XI 
 THE GAMBLERS 
 
 THE " Trapper " is a much smaller vessel than 
 the "Oceana," but it is strongly built, and 
 very fast. We may consider ourselves 
 lucky to be aboard her, for while we are racing 
 swiftly up-stream, the rest of the "Oceana's" pas- 
 sengers, including the turtle-doves, are still wearily 
 waiting, down at Bates' Wood-yard. 
 
 Our Captain Captain Pierre Chouteau would 
 not have burdened his boat with extra passengers, 
 had it not been for the very special interest he feels 
 in the Fremont Expedition. Fremont is to purchase 
 his full traveling outfit from Francis and Cyprian 
 Chouteau, who have a big Trading Post near the 
 mouth of the Kaw; and when Captain Pierre learned 
 that Fremont was detained at the landing, he offered 
 to take him and his party on to their destination, 
 and Hiram somehow contrived it so that we were 
 taken on board with the others. 
 
 Anna and I were making our way through the 
 crowd, when John came hurrying to us, breathless 
 
THE GAMBLERS 81 
 
 in his eagerness to tell us a most wonderful piece of 
 news. 
 
 "Deya! You can't guess who is on this boat! 
 One of the passengers and he never knew that 
 we were here, till I found him! You couldn't guess 
 in a week ! Do guess, Deya, you are so slow ! 
 It's Mr. Breunner! Our Mr. Breunner! And he is 
 going down into Old Mexico and maybe he will 
 go with our caravan as far as Santa Fe! The 
 Baron von Munster whatever it is at Alton, 
 made the arrangement for him to go, and he thinks 
 it is a great thing!" 
 
 All this was tumbling out of John's lips, while 
 "our Mr. Breunner" was making his way to our 
 side. 
 
 When we parted with Mr, Breunner at Alton, 
 not expecting to see him again, he seemed almost a 
 stranger, but now, when he came toward us with 
 the light of pleased anticipation in his eyes, we were 
 glad to receive him as an old-time friend. 
 
 I was curious to know how it happened that his 
 plans were changed so suddenly. I had understood 
 that he was on his way to the Appalachian country, 
 and now he was going westward instead of east! 
 John's jumbled explanation, however, had to suffice 
 us for the present. Mr. Breunner volunteered 
 nothing further himself. 
 
82 PILGRIMS OF THE PLAINS 
 
 With Mr. Breunner, as traveling-companion, there 
 is a certain grave and dignified not to say, morose 
 individual, a Mr. Harrod, a merchant from 
 Boston. We were presented in due form, but if 
 Mr. Harrod observed us or heard our names, he 
 gave no sign. 
 
 I have made up my mind that it will be useless 
 trying to be civil to this severe and cynical-looking 
 gentleman. Dark-faced, forbidding in manner, 
 wrapped in his own gloomy thoughts, his senses 
 seem barred against the pleasant trivialities of 
 every-day life. Poor man! He looks as if he 
 had never snftled in his life, and never expected 
 to do so. 
 
 But for all his cold and unapproachable manner 
 he is still a person one cannot help but look at twice, 
 as he paces the deck, gazing over the heads of 
 everyone, speaking to no one. 
 
 To-night it was very cold out-of-doors, and the 
 passengers gathered in the cabin to listen to the 
 music and to amuse themselves with card-games. 
 Mr. Harrod was the last to come in, and as he was 
 going to his state-room, Captain Chouteau called to 
 him, asking him to sit in at the game, and moved 
 over to make room for him, but without any recog- 
 nition of the courtesy, he went to his room and 
 closed the door behind him! 
 
THE GAMBLERS 83 
 
 Everyone here plays cards, but not for money! 
 Captain Chouteau will not allow gambling on board 
 his boat, and his word, of course, is law. While he 
 is strict about gambling, he is not so strict in regard 
 to drinking! There is a bar in the forward part of 
 the boat, and late at night the men begin to get 
 very noisy. We hear loud talking, and often scuf- 
 fling, and sometimes fighting too. But nothing 
 serious happens, unless something is happening 
 now! I don't know what it can mean! The boat, I 
 am sure, is turning in to the shore! The men are 
 calling out, and shouting and laughing! 
 
 Hiram and Captain Chouteau and big Rob are 
 holding a conference just outside our door some- 
 thing exciting is surely taking place. 
 
 Anna and I just had to find out what it meant! 
 We put on our dresses and shoes, and stepped out 
 into the cabin, and Anna made Hiram believe that 
 it was necessary for her to have her brown carpet- 
 bag, that was down in the baggage-room, right at 
 once! While he was occupied in getting the useless 
 bag, we sat there on the divan, and learned all about 
 what had happened. 
 
 While the men in the cabin were playing their 
 games, with innocent counters, three professional 
 gamblers (notorious characters who had slipped 
 
84 PILGRIMS OF THE PLAINS 
 
 aboard, it seemed, without being recognized) had 
 got hold of one of Fremont's men who was carrying 
 money that belonged to the Expedition, and they 
 had inveigled him into their state-room, and cheated 
 him out of all that he had with him ! He was smart 
 enough to play that he was stupidly drunk, and 
 they were foolish enough to let him go, and he 
 went straight to the Captain with his tale. 
 
 The rascals were quarreling over the division of 
 the spoils, when the door suddenly fell in on them, 
 with the Captain and big Rob back of it! They 
 dragged the three down the length of the main 
 cabin, and out on deck, and then dumped them 
 over-board into the mud and slush of the river! 
 
 Up to their knees in mire, the three begged and 
 implored the Captain to let them on board again 
 they promised him on their word of honor as South- 
 ern gentlemen that they would quit gambling for 
 good and all, if the Captain would only be good to 
 them! But the Captain was not to be cajoled. 
 
 "Dat good Cap'n is not dis Cap'n! I feel not 
 good at you not whatsoever! Nex' time you 
 remember 'bout dat sign w'at is put up ev'yw'ere 
 on dis boat, No Gamblin 9 ! Planty big sign for 
 you to read! Nex' time maybe you t'ink I mean 
 w'at I say!' Yaas an' dey cry, an' dey cry! But 
 dey not so bad off! Dat nice sof place w'ere dey 
 
THE GAMBLERS 85 
 
 light! Dey only have to stay dere till daylight, 
 maybe, an' some boat come, an' pick 'em up. Only 
 dey better stay w'ere dey is, for it be bad swamp 
 all 'roun' dere dey not dare try to wade out ! 
 
 "Dey know all de time dat dere be no gamblin' 
 on none of dese Missouri steamboat! Dem gam- 
 blers too rackless too rapscallious ! Dey get so 
 bold dat passengers be 'fraid to bring deir money 
 on de boat, an' dat bad for business ! So we jus' 
 pass de word dat de whole gamblin' business got to 
 stop! Dat is good rule for de boat! On de shore 
 well, dat be different. I, myself, I play wid de 
 bes' of dem, on shore. Dat nobody's business. 
 But not on de boat! We fix dem good if dey try 
 it, dat is one sure t'ing!" He pounded big Rob 
 on the back. "Dis one bully boy! You seen 'im, 
 eh? 'E lif dose men, two of dem one in each 
 han' lak dey be sick kitten yaas, by de neck, 
 an' drap 'em over de rail! It was dat easy trick! 
 Dose men make one splurge in de worl', w'en dey 
 strike dat mud-bank! Wat you say? De drinks 
 on me? Yaas, dat all right! Ev'ybody!" 
 
 They trooped away to the bar-room, and we took 
 the brown carpet-bag, and retired to our little sleep- 
 ing room but not to sleep ! There is a crowd of 
 young boys on board, of whom Danny Driscoll and 
 Farrell Montgomery are the leaders. "A passel of 
 
86 PILGRIMS OF THE PLAINS 
 
 rowdy college youngsters," Himey calls them and 
 they are parading around and around the cabin, 
 singing, in not unmusical fashion, "Martin Halli- 
 gan's Aunt " and they are using the dinner-gong 
 to mark time with! There is no telling when they 
 will be ready to quiet down! 
 
 "Here's a health to Martin Halligan's aunt! 
 
 And I'll tell you the rason why; 
 She ates becase she's hungry, 
 
 And she drinks becase she's dhry! 
 If she e'er saw a man stop the course of the can, 
 
 Martin Halligan's aunt would cry! 
 Arrah! fill up the glass, and let the toast pass! 
 
 How d'ye know but ye'r neighbor's dhry?" 
 
CHAPTER XII 
 EACH IN HIS OWN WAY 
 
 JOHN has thrown aside his story-book! He 
 doesn't need to be reading the fictitious ad- 
 ventures of imaginary heroes, when Kit Car- 
 son is here with us; and though Mr. Carson can 
 hardly be induced to speak of his own exciting ex- 
 periences himself, there are plenty of others who 
 will. Everyone is talking of him, but he does not 
 seem to be conscious of it. 
 
 He keeps John with him for hours at a time. 
 "He's a fine-spirited lad, and has the makings of 
 a strong fine man," he told me. "You ain't to 
 worry yourself too much because he looks so peaked 
 and delicate-like. This Mizzouri air ain't none too 
 good for him it's chock-full of malary, and pizen 
 to strangers; but he'll soon be out'n it, out on 
 the high plains, and when you get him there you 
 just turn him loose, to rough it with the other men." 
 (The other men!) "Let him sleep on the bare 
 ground, with nothing but his blanket between him 
 and the sky! Let him eat the same fare the others 
 do, and all and he'll be all right, in no time!" 
 
88 PILGRIMS OF THE PLAINS 
 
 Indeed, I think that John must have been ready 
 to make the turn for the better, even before we 
 started on this journey he seems so much im- 
 proved. Because Mr. Carson sees the vivid interest 
 that John feels in all he says and does, he takes 
 pains to be more than usually friendly and com- 
 panionable. He has changed his place at the table, 
 so as to be near us. The sublime Fremont, and his 
 corps of officers, naturally have the place of honor 
 at the head of the table, next to the Captain. 
 
 The conversation there is not specially enlivening 
 dignity is an oppressive commodity; and it is 
 to be noticed that the Captain slips away at the 
 first opportunity, and comes down to join in the 
 livelier discussions that seem to belong particularly 
 to the foot of the festive board. 
 
 "That Hiram and that bunch of college young- 
 sters do carry on, something scandalous," I heard a 
 soured old dyspeptic complaining in a corner. And 
 it's true, they are noisy, bubbling over with their 
 witty foolery and nonsense, ready for anything in 
 the way of a practical joke, as the soured old 
 dyspeptic had found out! His place at the table 
 was right between Danny Driscoll and Twank 
 Evans, and they kept his plate piled with every- 
 thing rich and tempting, and consequently demoral- 
 izing to a distressed stomach! And the old man 
 
EACH IN HIS OWN WAY 89 
 
 ate and suffered, and then cried out upon those 
 who had put temptation in his way! 
 
 It is a decidedly mixed crowd that we have for 
 neighbors. Besides the four college boys, and 
 Hiram and Anna, and Mr. Breunner, and Mr. 
 Harrod, and Kit Carson, there are three Bostonese, 
 and a "man from Maine," and a young Sir Harry 
 Hotspur from Georgia! Political discussions are 
 the order of the day. "Will there be war with 
 Mexico?" "Will the United States annex Texas?" 
 "If so, what then?" 
 
 To-day at dinner everybody was talking at once! 
 Wine had been served to some of the men, and that 
 may have made them more inclined to disputation 
 and argument. The young "Hotspur" rose to his 
 feet and proposed a toast to "The brave Sam 
 Houston the George Washington of Texas!" 
 The toast was quietly accepted, but it was the 
 beginning of an acrimonious debate! The South- 
 erner turned to the man who sat next to him, and 
 banged his fist upon the table till the glasses clat- 
 tered against each other. 
 
 "I tell you, sir, if Texas makes formal demand to 
 be admitted as a State, if she asks us to protect 
 her from the wanton cruelty and brutalities of the 
 Mexicans, we would be unworthy of our heritage 
 as free men and lovers of liberty, if we refused to 
 
90 PILGRIMS OF THE PLAINS 
 
 listen to her pleadings! We are bound, by all our 
 traditions as a chivalrous people, to open our doors 
 to her!" 
 
 The reply came from Maine before Georgia had 
 fairly finished speaking. 
 
 "Yes, and when we open our doors to her, she'll 
 come, and bring her slaves with her! And by her 
 representation in Congress additional power will be 
 secured by the South in favor of Southern interests!" 
 
 And from further down the table. 
 
 "We cannot take Texas so easily. Mexico will 
 not permit it. If we so much as lay a finger on 
 Texas, Mexico will declare war, and it will be 
 war to the knife!" 
 
 A sepulchral voice muttered, "Remember the 
 Alamo!" and so the controversy raged. 
 
 There was an Illinois man at the table Owen 
 Edwards, who had only lately come from Santa 
 Fe, and he said, in a quiet way that was infinitely 
 more convincing than all the loud talk of the others, 
 that there is reason to believe that Santa Fe will 
 sometime in the near future close its doors against 
 all Americans or more especially against American 
 traders. No one knows when, perhaps this year, 
 perhaps next. And he says that already in Santa 
 Fe there are confiscations of the property of the 
 American residents, on the flimsiest pretexts, or 
 
EACH IN HIS OWN WAY 91 
 
 with no excuse at all, and that Americans there are 
 in fear of their lives ! 
 
 "As well they may be," Georgia replied, "seeing 
 that their Governor openly instigated the murder 
 of Olivarez, the American Consul, no longer ago 
 than last year, and quite openly rewarded the one 
 whose hand struck the fatal blow! And the United 
 States Government has swallowed the insult, has 
 demanded no reparation, has let the murder go 
 unavenged!" 
 
 I do not know what it was that drew my eyes to 
 Mr. Harrod's face. I could hardly say that it was 
 more fixed and stern than usual, yet there was a 
 strange look upon his face that made me feel that 
 there was in this conversation something personal, 
 something painful to him, and I was not surprised 
 when he rose and left the table. 
 
 Hiram had been listening, with a very evident 
 anxiety, to these speeches, and he could keep still 
 no longer. 
 
 "That's a pretty prospect, now ain't it, for them 
 that's a-startin' for Santa Fe, with all they got 
 in the world invested in a Santa Fe assortment! 
 Well, I reckon! But it ain't a prospect to my lik- 
 ing! I ain't gone so far on the road but I can take 
 the back-track, if it's all as bad as that! I ain't 
 a-calculatin' to walk into no mare's nest, not if I 
 
92 PILGRIMS OF THE PLAINS 
 
 knows it! Twicet the Deacon's money wouldn't 
 tempt me if it's like you say!" 
 
 He looked up questioningly to Kit Carson, as if 
 to ask him if such things could be true; and Carson 
 answered quietly: 
 
 "All this is goin' a lot too fast! However bad 
 things may have been and they have been bad 
 enough I count on this season as a right pros- 
 perous one for the caravans trading with Santa Fe, 
 and just for the reason that there is a war-scare in 
 the air, and Mexico is a-holdin' her breath a-waitin' ! 
 She ain't nowise ready to declare war, as yet; and 
 won't be, as long as there is any chance of gitting 
 Texas back under her banner. Texas ain't asked 
 to be jined to the United States, and Mexico will 
 wait for that and till the United States agrees to it! 
 It's Santa Anna that's runnin' things in Mexico City 
 now. It's him as we'll have to reckon with, and 
 he's as wily as an old Indian chief. Keen and long- 
 headed he will be mighty careful how he riles the 
 American people by any more bloody deeds. If the 
 Americans is once roused up to real anger they will 
 take Texas, without a doubt. He knows that, well 
 as the next one; and that is what he will be de- 
 termined to prevent, if it's anyway possible!" 
 
 Carson's words put a stop to the discussion, for 
 the time being, perhaps because the men were 
 
EACH IN HIS OWN WAY 93 
 
 convinced, and perhaps because they forgot their 
 differences in the interest of watching the boat 
 swinging into the wharf here at Arrow-Rock. 
 
 Mr. Carson and Mr. Breunner did not seem to 
 notice it when the others left the cabin, they were so 
 busily engaged in conversation asking questions 
 about the East and about the West. Kit Carson 
 wanted to know about the growth of the great 
 cities, and of the railroads, of the development of 
 the Mississippi valley, and what this will mean to 
 the country west of the big river. 
 
 "Will bridges be built across the Mississippi? 
 Will steam-cars ever make their way to the far 
 western plains? And if they do, what will become 
 of the trapper's and fur-trader's business?" 
 
 And then, modestly, in answer to Mr. Breunner's 
 interested queries, Carson spoke of the wonders of 
 the West the uncharted rivers beyond the 
 Rockies the "painted chasms" and black abys- 
 mal gorges; the strange ruined cities, built, as swal- 
 lows might build, high up in crannies of seemingly 
 inaccessible cliffs; the mines of jewels, opals and 
 turquoise; the outcropping veins of iron and lead 
 and copper and silver. He told of the fabulously 
 rich "lost mines of Mexico" destroyed a century 
 and a half ago by the Indian slaves, when they rose 
 
94 PILGRIMS OF THE PLAINS 
 
 against their barbarously cruel masters, the Spanish 
 conquerors of Mexico. 
 
 It was a fascinating study to see the two men 
 together! They are both so sincere and honest and 
 unassuming, and yet they are so different, in tem- 
 perament as well as in education. Mr. Breunner, 
 though he spends many weeks of each year out 
 of doors, has not yet lost the rosy freshness of com- 
 plexion that is characteristic of the German and 
 English people. His speech is quick and forcible. 
 His eyes are like clear open windows through which 
 one can see the thought in his mind, before his lips 
 can utter it or so it seems to me. 
 
 Mr. Carson is browned and tanned by exposure. 
 He is sinewy and supple and strong with the 
 suppleness and strength of a well-tempered steel 
 blade. He is keen to notice all that goes on around 
 him marvelously so. He is quick to understand, 
 is attentive and appreciative of all that is said, but 
 there is no hint of eagerness in his manner. I am 
 sure that his pulses never quicken. He seems ever 
 the same cool, quiet, imperturbable. 
 
 They may talk of the illiteracy of Carson and I 
 suppose it is true that he can neither read nor write 
 and of the erudition of Mr. Breunner; but they 
 are both learned men, each according to the oppor- 
 tunity that has been given him. 
 
EACH IN HIS OWN WAY 95 
 
 I admire Mr. Breunner all the more because he 
 values Mr. Carson's unusual talents so highly. He 
 says Carson never forgets a trail once trodden, that 
 he knows all of the Great West as if the country 
 were a map, spread out before him. His courage 
 and power of endurance border upon the super- 
 human. He has come through the most dreadful 
 experiences in safety, when the bravest and stoutest 
 of his companions have lain down to die in despair. 
 
 It is a most fortunate thing for Lieutenant Fre- 
 mont, Mr. Breunner says, that he met Carson as he 
 did, and that he was able to secure his services. 
 With him, the success of the Expedition is assured 
 without him, no one can tell what disasters might 
 not overtake them. 
 
 To-day is Sunday, yet the wharfs are crowded and 
 there is loading and unloading of merchandise, as 
 on every other day. The only difference we notice 
 is that the passengers on the boat are dressed in 
 their "Sunday-best," and for dinner we had chicken, 
 and two kinds of pie! To-night the few men who 
 could not wean themselves from the cards, retreated 
 to the shadowy corners at the further end of the 
 cabin; but most of the passengers were satisfied to 
 sit around and talk, and listen to "them college 
 youngsters" as they sung their glees and rounds. 
 
96 PILGRIMS OF THE PLAINS 
 
 Every night, below deck, there is singing by the 
 negro "roustabouts," with Joe-Lu as leader. Joe-Lu 
 is a sort of king among these blacks. He does with 
 them as he will. The magic of his fiddle is a magic 
 to which they yield themselves, body and soul. 
 
 Are their muscles sore, their bones aching, their 
 eyes heavy- weighted with sleep? All this is for- 
 gotten when his bow begins its airy evolutions over 
 the quivering strings. Just let the soft tones of 
 that fiddle suggest the first note of one of their 
 darkey chants, and they are all swaying and bend- 
 ing, keeping time to the music! 
 
 Captain Chouteau says that by rights he ought 
 to refund Joe-Lu's passage-money. 
 
 "Dose niggers do twice de work, an' dey take it 
 as if 'twas play, when dey can be steppin' to dat 
 conjur-music of his'n!" 
 
 It must have been nearly midnight when Anna 
 and John and I went out to watch them "load-up" 
 at the wood-yard. The sky was utterly black 
 there was not a glimmer of light except where the 
 crimson glare of the rosin-torches fell, but within 
 this narrow circle every object stood out with 
 dazzling clearness. 
 
 Up and down the gang-plank double rows of 
 negroes were coming and going. They were stripped 
 to the waist, and their black bodies glistened with 
 
EACH IN HIS OWN WAY 97 
 
 the sweat of their labor. Balanced upon their 
 shoulders were logs that it took two men to lift into 
 place; yet they stepped along jauntily, giving their 
 bare feet an extra flourish, or an extra stamp, as the 
 exigencies of the music seemed to require. 
 
 Joe-Lu was playing a jig-tune that went with a 
 most erratic rhythm "Pat-a-pat Juba! Now 
 step lively! Pick up your load there, nigger-man! 
 Everybody laugh and sing tra-la-Iou!" 
 
 When their work was done, and the wood piled 
 high on the deck, they settled themselves to sing. 
 Their songs are the hardest to remember! Differ- 
 ent ones among them sing the different verses, and 
 no two of them sing the air exactly alike each 
 one embroidering the score with grace-notes and 
 sliding arpeggios to suit his own fancy even the 
 chorus is varied for the different verses. But no 
 matter what liberties are taken with the notes, the 
 time is perfectly kept, and marked with swaying 
 body with the stamp of the foot, with the clap 
 of the hand. 
 
 Many of their songs are pathetic love-ballads; 
 and it is remarkable how pure and refined in senti- 
 ment, how simple and truly touching, some of 
 these are. Their so-called religious songs are not 
 so admirable. They speak freely and flippantly of 
 "de debbil." It is evident that they do not regard 
 
98 PILGRIMS OF THE PLAINS 
 
 Satan as the incarnation of Evil. To them he is 
 only a tricky enemy who is to be fooled, cajoled, 
 and out-witted. 
 
 We watched them from above, and listened to 
 their strange soft Southern speech. It was almost 
 new to us we have seen so few of the real Southern 
 slaves. 
 
 I have always hated it, to hear people speak of 
 them contemptuously as "niggers" hated it to 
 think of their being treated as mere chattels, as 
 animals, bought and sold, made to labor, without 
 themselves ever expecting to reap any share of the 
 fruits of that labor! But as they huddled together 
 on the bare boards and stretched themselves out to 
 sleep, covered only by their scanty rags of clothing, 
 they really did not look like human beings, and 
 I almost forgot to pity them. 
 
 Joe-Lu is as different from them as if he belonged 
 to another race as indeed he does. In features, 
 form, carriage, and mental capacity he is different. 
 These others are of the Gulf-of-Guinea type the 
 lowest kind of negro and Joe-Lu's people, his 
 mother's people, must have come from the moun- 
 tains of Abyssinia. The difference between them 
 never showed so plainly as to-night, when Joe-Lu 
 stood there looking down upon them lying at his 
 feet. In his attitude there was an unconscious air 
 
EACH IN HIS OWN WAY 
 
 99 
 
 of pride and disdain yet in the look that he bent 
 upon them there was pity, too. 
 
 Like the lonely cry of the whip-poor-will the 
 sound of their singing echoes within me. "Nebber 
 git back no mo'!" The words are nothing worse 
 than nothing! But as they sang them there was 
 something penetratingly mournful and tragic in 
 them. 
 
 is) 7 
 
 
 k 
 
 ' 
 
 
 
 
 ~ 1 
 
 3 
 
 N-NJ 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 3& 
 
 1 9 9-^- 
 
 
 
 
 ! I crosses de ribber, an* what do I see? Nebber git back no 
 
 mo'! 
 
 De debbil he's a-waitin' dere fo' me! Nebber git back no 
 
 mo'! 
 
 My sister pray fo' me! Nebber git back no mo'! 
 My mother hoi' me fas' ! Nebber git back no mo* ! 
 
CHAPTER XIII 
 PAP BAKER'S HOUN' PUP 
 
 DANNY DRISCOLL and Farrell Mont- 
 gomery and all of their crowd follow 
 around after Himey, and seem to think 
 his funny speeches the smartest and wittiest things 
 ever said. Of course they know all about the "bill- 
 of-sale," and the "oxens and cow-critters," and 
 "that there Ury Dowton!" 
 
 "I dunno!" Himey says. "I reckon he played me 
 for a sucker, and I was just fool enough to 
 swaller the bait, hook and all! I been askin' every- 
 body that's ever been down by Sibley, if they knows 
 of them Dowtons, and they ain't nobody never 
 hearn tell of 'em! It looks to me like I done made 
 somebody a present of that there boat!" 
 
 The boys go over the story adding some new 
 details of their own invention whenever they 
 can find a new listener; and Hiram undoes his old 
 wallet, and exhibits "the very identical bill-of-sale," 
 to make the tale more poignantly appealing. Hiram 
 was undoubtedly born to be a stage-player, only 
 
PAP.BAKER'S HOUN' PUP 101 
 
 somehow he missed his vocation. The mock- 
 pathetic look on his face, as he unwinds, and 
 unwinds, and unwinds the purposely long string 
 that holds the pocketbook together, invariably sends 
 the bystanders off into spasms of laughter. 
 
 It is all right for them to laugh and make a joke 
 of it, but "w'at if dere be no Dowtons, no farm, 
 no oxens and cow-critters? Dat not be so funny? 
 Eh?" 
 
 Kit Carson is hah* afraid that there is really some- 
 thing wrong about the transaction, and he has 
 offered to leave the boat at Sibley to-morrow morn- 
 ing, with Hiram, "to go on the trail of the 
 Dowtons!" If they find the "critters," as we 
 are hoping they will do, they will drive them 
 across country, and join us at Westport either 
 Wednesday or Thursday. 
 
 Each season, the "Trapper" this boat of ours 
 goes up the Missouri river, well into the Yellowstone 
 district, carrying beads and kettles, and bright cali- 
 coes and blankets all the things that the Indians 
 desire; and it comes back, loaded heavy as it can 
 carry, with furs from the Northwest hundreds 
 of thousands of dollars' worth. But while the 
 "Trapper" was built especially for this trade, it also 
 has accommodations for seventy passengers, and 
 
102 PILGRIMS OF THE PLAINS 
 
 the Captain is not averse to increasing his revenues 
 by so much as their passage money amounts to. 
 But the boat is now over-crowded, and Captain 
 Chouteau is getting cross because he cannot make 
 his usual quick time. 
 
 And day before yesterday we had three more 
 passengers added to our number Mrs. and Miss 
 Drown and Mrs. Yeats, relatives of the chief clerk. 
 
 Since they came aboard I do not see as much of 
 Anna as I did. She prefers to sit in the cabin with 
 the ladies, and sew on her quilt, rather than to walk 
 the sunny deck with me though that would be 
 much better for her, I am sure. It is perfectly 
 ridiculous for her to give herself such elderly ma- 
 tronly airs. She is only just out of her teens, 
 and one would think her thirty-five! I am going 
 to make her an old-lady's cap, and tie it Bunder her 
 dimpled chin, if she persists in acting so very 
 much grown-up. 
 
 Anna has her friends, John has his, and my 
 nose is out-of -joint. I miss my sisters I am not 
 used to doing without them. I would be really 
 lonely and forlorn if it were not for "Uncle Pliny." 
 He looks after me and sees that I am properly 
 amused. He is the very nicest old man a favor- 
 ite with the Captain and the Pilot; and they let us 
 sit up on the deck, out in front of the pilot-house, 
 
PAP BAKER'S HOUN' PUP 103 
 
 where the passengers do not dare to go without a 
 special invitation. 
 
 Uncle Pliny goes out West every season, and he 
 knows all there is to know about the plains, and 
 about this treacherous old Missouri river too. 
 
 Every bend in the crooked stream has its own 
 tragic tale of wreck and death. To-day we passed 
 the place where the "Astoria," with six thousand 
 dollars in Mexican bullion aboard, was wrecked 
 and plundered by river desperadoes. She sank 
 without turning over, and her smoke-stacks still 
 are standing up out of the water, apparently as good 
 as ever. Uncle Pliny said: 
 
 "A body would shorely think that it would pay 
 them to hist her up out'n the hole where she sank, 
 but they say it's cheaper to build a new boat! 
 
 "It was at Massie's Wood-yard, only last month," 
 he continued, "that the 'Elk' bio wed all to splinters, 
 so's they never found a single one of her crew, nor 
 hardly a scrap of wood or iron to show that there 
 had ever been sech a boat. These steamboats, 
 seems like, ain't expected to last more'n 'bout five 
 seasons. Before that time they bust their bilers 
 and blow up, or they strikes a snag and goes down! 
 It's a mighty ticklish piece of business to navigate 
 this here stream. An' right here at Hound's Pint 
 is about as bad a place as they is. You see that thar 
 
104 PILGRIMS OF THE PLAINS 
 
 long pint of land wall, the story goes that ol' pap 
 Baker, when he used to live thar, had a houn' pup, 
 an' that pup never stopped his barkin', night or 
 day, as long as he could hear the steamboats' en- 
 gines a-puffin. They's a sand-bar, over this-a-way, 
 and a bunch of ugly 'sawyers' acrost thar, a right 
 puzzlesome channel it is to f oiler! In daytime the 
 pilots sights by that row of ellum trees; but at night 
 they all made a practise of pintin' the boat's nose 
 'cordin' to that pup's barkin' ! An' one time it hap- 
 pened so as Lizbeth Baker went aross to the Wilsons* 
 to borry a coal of fire, an' she took the pup with her, 
 bein' as it were dark an' lonesome, an' of course 
 the pilot of the 'Chian,' a-comin' up-river, couldn't 
 be expected to know 'bout that, an' when he heard 
 the pup a-barkin', he turned in to the right, as 
 usual not guessin' that the dawg was a half-mile 
 down-river an' he run the boat jam into the 
 bank! An' she had to stay thar till the 'latan' 
 came along and pulled her off agin! 
 
 "I don't hardly ever take this trip that I don't 
 hear of some accident, like what happened to you- 
 alls on the 'Oceana' Kit Carson, he give me the 
 full particulars of that thar trouble. But somehow 
 I never think that any of them things is goin' to 
 happen to me special when I chances to catch 
 one of the Chouteau boats. Pierre Chouteau is 
 
PAP BAKER'S HOUN' PUP 105 
 
 'bout as careful a Captain as they is on the river. 
 He's counted the cleverest of all the Chouteaus 
 not but what they're all of 'em smart enough, the 
 whole kit-an'-caboodle of 'em! They is a heap of 
 'em. The West is fair peppered with the Chouteau 
 Tradin' Posts. They all hangs together, an' keeps 
 the trade in their own hands, an' keeps the other 
 fellers out! Not that I'm a-blamin' them! We are all 
 of us chasin' the nimble penny, only some of us is 
 too stiff in our jints to make much of an out at it!" 
 
 Some nice folks would think Uncle Pliny quite 
 shocking, I suppose. He is not what could be 
 called clean. His hands are grimy, his waistcoat 
 is greasy, and he always gets it fastened crooked, 
 and the top button is a nail! He was "borned and 
 raised that-a-way," and he couldn't be himself 
 and be any different from what he is and I like 
 him! He is a Tennesseean, from way up in the 
 mountains, and he has the mountaineers' quaint 
 drawling way of speech. In the tone of his voice 
 there is something soft and musical, something 
 conciliatory, ingratiating, and altogether kindly. I 
 love to hear him talk. The world seems a nicer 
 place to live in, when he is near. 
 
 He has had his troubles, too, but he laughs at 
 them. 
 
 "It is a sure-enough fact that I always gets my 
 
106 PILGRIMS OF THE PLAINS 
 
 full sheer of what bad luck they is a-goin'! I ain't 
 never been wrecked on the river, but I had my 
 grocery store at Malvern Corners burned, and struck 
 by lightnin'. And the fust time I went to Santa Fe 
 I was lost on the Cimarron Plain, an' nigh-about 
 starved had to live on grasshoppers, with only 
 two spoonfuls of flour a day, fur I never did know 
 how long! I done had my oxens die, an' my wagons 
 busted, an' my goods confisticated, fust one thing 
 an' then another. But, law me ! I don't know any- 
 body that could stand it better'n me! Loretty 
 she's the youngest of my two darters she says, 
 * Uncle Pliny,' says she, *y u gt your health, an' 
 'nough to eat, an' thar's Sarah, an' you know you're 
 welcome to go an' live with her, an' here's me an' 
 the babies, jest a-waitin' for the time when you'll 
 be content to quit a-roamin' an' settle down here 
 to home with us.' An' I jest tells her, 'Uh-huh!' 
 An' I ain't never let her know that every time I go 
 away, I'm a-hopin' that my luck will change, so's 
 I can take back enough money to put an ell on the 
 house, an' git her a new loom (her ma's loom has 
 seen its best days) an' I'd like to git one of them 
 big store rockers, for 'grandpap' to set in, an' fur 
 them babies of her'n to clamber over! 
 
 "I reckon I'll come to the streak of fat in my 
 bacon, yit, some of these days! But if I don't 
 
PAP BAKER'S HOUN' PUP 107 
 
 why, I ain't goin' to complain! I got too many 
 blessin's fur that!" 
 
 Uncle Pliny tells me that the Fremont party do 
 not intend to disembark at Independence Landing, 
 but will continue on the "Trapper" till they reach the 
 mouth of the Kaw river, where they will be met by 
 Francis and Cyprian Chouteau. 
 
 John is ill, dreadfully ill, I fear! I am afraid that 
 mother will think I have not been sufficiently watch- 
 ful and careful of his health. Now they are saying 
 that we should not have allowed him to breathe 
 the night air, frail as he is. And only yesterday 
 they were encouraging me to let him "rough it" 
 with the other men! How can I tell what is best 
 to do? 
 
 Uncle Pliny has taken him in charge, and is giving 
 him somebody's "Sure Cure for Ague." He says 
 that John will be on his feet, "and sassy as ever," 
 in two or three days. 
 
 "This here river malary is pretty apt to git a-holt 
 of strangers, unless'n they takes somethin' strong 
 to keep it out of their systems, but the fust touch 
 ain't like to 'mount to anythin' more than jest an 
 unconvenience nothin' serious, an' before time 
 for the next spell he'll be where they ain't no sech 
 thing as malary." 
 
108 PILGRIMS OF THE PLAINS 
 
 I have been reading my Chapter for the night. 
 Sometimes I forget it, or neglect it, but not 
 to-night! Every word I read was comforting. I 
 
 . could hear my Heavenly Father's voice saying, 
 "Sleep in peace, my child! No harm shall befall 
 
 'thee! All will be well." 
 
CHAPTER XIV 
 THE EXTREMES! EDGE OF CIVILIZATION 
 
 MOST of the "Trapper's" passengers disem- 
 barked at Gaines's Mill, near Independ- 
 ence, but our party went on with Fremont 
 as far as Chouteau's Landing, and so we saw the 
 other two Chouteaus who had come down from 
 their trading post to welcome the Expedition. 
 They are undeniably French, with perhaps an 
 admixture of Indian blood: if it were so, they 
 would not be ashamed of it. 
 
 They are polite, as Frenchmen never forget to be, 
 in the presence of ladies, but they looked like pirates 
 and cut-throats! I could not help humming, under 
 my breath, 
 
 "Oh, my name was Captain Kidd, as I sailed, as I sailed! 
 And so wickedly I did, as I sailed!" 
 
 Cyprian Chouteau, himself, rowed us across the 
 Missouri, to the south bank, where we found a boy 
 with a crazy rattletrap of a wagon waiting to take 
 possible passengers down to Westport, five miles 
 away. 
 
110 PILGRIMS OF THE PLAINS 
 
 The road was bad as a road could be. It was up- 
 hill and down-dale, through boggy, miry, yellow clay, 
 through thickets of paw-paws, and twisted grape- 
 vines; but we came out, at last, upon a fair straight 
 track all shaded by oak and elm and walnut trees, 
 through whose branches we had our first glimpse 
 of Westport a more cityfied place than I had 
 expected to see. There were some dwellings of 
 brick and stone, and there is a big hotel, and several 
 small factories, and a dozen or more store-buildings. 
 
 Just as our boy, "Sethy," pointed it out, I saw 
 the sign that I had been looking for "Newell, 
 Gentry, and Newell," but we could not persuade 
 Sethy to take us there. 
 
 "No sir! I ain't goin' to get into that crowd! 
 'F I got into that jam of wagins I wouldn't get out 
 till dark! The teamsters to them big freighters 
 don't care nothin' 'bout what gets in their way! 
 I'm goin' to take you-alls straight's ever I kin to 
 Miss Ne well's." 
 
 But the way was not so very "straight!" It was 
 turn and turn to let this string of ponies pass, and 
 for that crowd of roysterers to go by. 
 
 Our loquacious little driver did not wait for us to 
 question him; he went right on explaining every- 
 thing in sight. 
 
 "Them shave-head Indians is Kaws, them 
 
EDGE OF CIVILIZATION 111 
 
 over thar with the short-cut hair and shirts is 
 Shawnees, and they farms just like white-folks. 
 Them with the red rags on their braids is Kickapoos 
 and Ottawas; and them tallest ones, with the paint 
 on their faces, is Siouxs!" 
 
 The Indians, wild-looking as they were, were not 
 any wilder than the rest of the crowd. There were 
 black and greasy Mexicans, and negroes of every 
 possible mixture, and Texans, and Yankees, and 
 Germans, and Canadians, and Kentuckians all 
 jabbering in their dozen different languages 
 eking out the inadequacies of speech with eloquent 
 and expressive gesticulation! 
 
 There were so many things to see pedlers and 
 auctioneers, dog-fights, and bouts at fisticuffs among 
 some of the men, it is small wonder that Auguste 
 and Franchy and Joe-Lu were lured away from us, 
 one by one. Of all our company there was only 
 big Rob left as escort, when Sethy pulled up at 
 "Miss Newell's" gate. 
 
 She saw us, and guessed who we were, and came 
 running down the front walk to welcome us. My 
 impression is that she took us all into her arms at 
 once John and Anna and me and that she 
 had a hand to spare to Rob, besides! She is only a 
 tiny bit of a body, so I do not pretend to say how 
 she managed it. 
 
112 PILGRIMS OF THE PLAINS 
 
 It was only a minute till she had John seated in a 
 rocking-chair, with a cushion at his back, and a 
 hassock under his feet. 
 
 "Eh, the puir laddie! He's the bonnie laddie, 
 an* bigger than I had thocht him frae the Deacon's 
 talk, a-maist a man, on'y he's fair wearied oot wi* 
 the lang journey, or mayhap it's the sickness he's 
 a touch o' the fever, I see. Indeed, yes, the Deacon 
 tell't me as how he wouldna be exactly strong, so I 
 have the good broth ready for the hettin'-up, wait- 
 ing for him, for the past twa or three days. We 
 couldna tell juist the day ye'd be here, ye ken." 
 
 As she, was talking, she set out on the little stand- 
 table the chicken-broth, that had been "netted up," 
 a bowl of cream, and a section of dried pumpkin 
 pie; and under coaxing the "puir laddie" ate it all! 
 And she made him lie down and "nap a bit," mo- 
 tioning Anna and me out to the porch, where we sat 
 in dear delicious quiet a quiet broken by only 
 the gentlest murmur of gossip. 
 
 Sethy had been sent after Deacon Gentry, to tell 
 him that we had arrived, but the Deacon was over 
 to the tent-city, south of the town a temporary 
 market-place where the farmers, from a hundred 
 miles around, gathered to dispose of their mules 
 and oxen and tierces of salt bacon and other prov- 
 ender, to the out-going caravans. 
 
EDGE OF CIVILIZATION 113 
 
 It was an hour or more before we saw him striding 
 up the street, and by that time John had wakened 
 from his nap, and was ready to declare that he did 
 not know what fever and sickness were. 
 
 Deacon Gentry had always been fondest of John, 
 even when George was alive, and now, when he 
 came in, he could only see "the boy the dear 
 lad!" He had his arm around John's shoulders, 
 and they were walking up and down the gallery, 
 eagerly talking, when Aunt Jeannie put her small 
 foot down. She sent John back to his couch again, 
 and bade the Deacon take "Miss Deya" down to 
 the store. 
 
 "She'll be wantin' to see the wagins, an' the gear 
 ye hae purchased for her an' the laddie. An' 
 Tammas, he'll be wantin' to make his boo to her! 
 An' ye're to bring him up to supper, an' a' the ither 
 folk, that come wi' the lad an' lassie! Mistress 
 Hubbard, here, will be helpin' me wi' the bit supper, 
 sae gae alang wi' ye, an' remember not to stay 
 too lang at the store!" 
 
 Deacon Gentry has boarded with the Newells 
 ever since he came West, as was natural enough, 
 they being Presbyterians, and the taverns such 
 ungodly riotous places, as they are sure to be, so 
 far out West. There is quite a little settlement of 
 Scotch Presbyterians here, all kinsfolk or at least 
 
114 PILGRIMS OF THE PLAINS 
 
 "neebors" back in the "auld country." They 
 came out together from Scotland to Kentucky, and 
 emigrated from there to Westport, when they heard 
 of the fortunes that were being made in the Santa 
 Fe trade. 
 
 Had the Deacon not fallen in with them I do not 
 think he would have remained here, even though 
 there was the chance to "double and thribble his 
 money," as Hiram phrased it. 
 
 As we were going down to the store, Deacon 
 Gentry and I, he left it to me to furnish the topics 
 of conversation, and I puzzled my brains for news 
 that I thought would be interesting to him: there 
 was the sale of his old farm to Adalbert Jennings; 
 the marriage of Harriet, his niece, to Uncle Asaph's 
 son; the moving away of some of his friends, and 
 the coming of several new families who are doing 
 great things in the way of improving the town and 
 country around Dixon; and I told him all about 
 father's re-election, and some of the important 
 things that the Whig party hoped to effect in the 
 national Congress, as father had told it to me. 
 
 We reached the store before I had time to observe 
 what it really did look like on the outside. We 
 went in at the big gate that gives admittance to 
 the stockade at the rear of the store. Here were 
 dozens of the great Conestoga freighting wagons, 
 
EDGE OF CIVILIZATION 115 
 
 most of them already packed full of goods, ready 
 to roll out through the gate at a moment's notice. 
 
 Twenty bore the name, "Newell, Gentry, and 
 Newell," but four were labeled with a specially sig- 
 nificant name "Randall and Randall"! And the 
 Deacon helped me to climb up into one of them, 
 and he explained what the load consisted of, and 
 what percentage of profit we might expect from each 
 class of goods, silks, and fancy cottons, and fine 
 hardware, one hundred percent, even two hundred, 
 perhaps, after all expenses are paid! To talk of 
 profits like this engenders a commercial fever in 
 the blood of the most careless. 
 
 The Deacon was eloquent upon the subject as he 
 took me around through the store, and showed me 
 the big stock they carry. They have everything 
 that one could think of concertinas, lace-mantil- 
 las, bacon, hair combs, molasses, powder, calicoes, 
 flour, domestics, tomahawks, silks, and squaw axes, 
 kettles and looking-glasses and bear's grease, etc., 
 etc. everything in wholesale quantities, enough 
 to fit out hundreds of wagons, a half-a-dozen 
 caravans, complete. 
 
 They furnish not only the stocks of goods to their 
 customers but also the wagons and teams, and the 
 men that are needed. Sometimes they wait for 
 their pay till the return of the caravan from Santa 
 
116 PILGRIMS OF THE PLAINS 
 
 Fe; and Uncle Tammas says that in seven years of 
 the trading-business he has not lost a thousand 
 dollars. 
 
 "Maybe they're no what ye'd ca' ower scrupulous 
 in the way of pickin' up what's lyin' aroun' loose, 
 but I've found nane o' them sae dishonest as to rob 
 the mon wha trusts them wi' his purse, or a bill o* 
 goods. They're kittle cattle, these men o' the 
 West! Ye can't tell what for a notion they'll take 
 into their heads! They swear by the Deacon, an' 
 I'd no be able to tell ye edzactly why-for! The 
 Deacon's a douce canny mon, but he's nane sae 
 easy! He holds them a' to the mark uncommon 
 tight; an' he has, beside, crankous crotchets aboot 
 spiritous liquors, an' such like. Noo, I differ wi' 
 him, there! I'm as good a Presbyterian as onybody, 
 but for a' that, I maintain that a wee bit drap o' 
 John Barleycorn's brew is good for a mon at regu- 
 lar times, ye onderstand! A reasonable mon knows 
 when to take it, an' when to leave it alone. The 
 puir fools wha let their drams go to their heads 
 let their troubles be on their own shoulthers ! A 
 mon wi' a conscience an' will of his own, needs not 
 to be harried because of their fulishness." 
 
 In spite of these heretical notions of Uncle Tam- 
 mas's, he and the Deacon are warmly attached to 
 each other. Uncle Tammas is fine like a gnarly 
 
EDGE OF CIVILIZATION 117 
 
 old oak tree, rugged, big- jointed, and strong. He 
 wears his shirt open almost to the waist, exposing 
 his broad hairy chest. His shirt-sleeves are rolled 
 to the shoulder, showing the hard knotted muscles 
 of his arms. His "trowsies" are cut short, so one 
 can see the blue wool socks, and an inch or two of 
 brown leg above that! I am sure he must have worn 
 the "kilties" in Scotland, and so does not think 
 anything of this display of bare leg. But not- 
 withstanding these little peculiarities of his attire, 
 he is, unmistakably, a person of consequence and 
 dignity. 
 
 When the Deacon and Uncle Tammas and I ar- 
 rived again at the "hoose" we found the boys, 
 Auguste and Franchy and Joe-Lu and Rob, there 
 waiting for us on the front porch. 
 
 Supper was spread on the long table in the open 
 place between the two main portions of the building. 
 As we seated ourselves, Aunt Jeannie began to 
 apologize for her poor and scanty fare, as good 
 housewives are sure to do, and then she pro- 
 ceeded to bring in platter after platter, and dish 
 after dish, all full of all sorts of good things to eat! 
 I am going to put it down here so as to have it to 
 remember. Chicken, corned-beef, and fish; pota- 
 toes, yams, and okra; white bread, corn-pone, and 
 
118 PILGRIMS OF THE PLAINS 
 
 biscuits; plum- jell, persimmon preserves, and sweet 
 watermelon-pickles; pumpkin-pie yes, and I must 
 not forget the "haggis," though I did not eat any 
 of it! Rob ate my share, and his besides. "Never 
 was a MacLeod as could pass a haggis by!" he 
 said. 
 
 Aunt Jeannie caught the name "MacLeod," and 
 she almost let the precious "haggis" go smash! 
 "Dinnot tell me thot yere name's MacLeod! the 
 MacLeods of Ayr! Ye favors them mightily. 
 Not the 'black MacLeods' but the fair-haired ones. 
 They ithers have the black sour blood in them, but 
 the tow-heads are aye the bonny good-tempered 
 lot; an' the men, mostly giants, ye ken, an' the 
 women scranny an' little. Yes, yes, so 'twas I 
 know them weel, as weel I may, my mither's third 
 mon bein' ane of them. An' by the same token, 
 if yere not Hamish Macleod's son! My ain half- 
 brither's son! Ye've the vary look of him, that 
 mornin' when he went off to Glasgow, on his way 
 to America. An' we heard no more o' him! I 
 mind that mornin' as if 'twas yesterday ! An' 
 ye've the vary look of him! I'm a puir doddert 
 blind body or I would hae known ye, soon as I set 
 eyes on ye!" 
 
 And then there came a rapid-fire of questions, 
 and Rob knew all about the family tree, and they 
 
EDGE OF CIVILIZATION 119 
 
 traced it together, branch by branch, out into its 
 remotest branchlets! And Aunt Jeannie was so 
 excited that she forgot to get our bedroom candles, 
 till Uncle Tammas nudged her by way of reminder. 
 
 "Bless us a'! I'm that near daft, wi' the joy o* 
 seein' my ain nephew for he's maist the same as 
 that! A' the folk that came wi' us frae Scotland is 
 kin to yer Uncle Tammas, but no related by the 
 blood to me, save only cousin Mary Berryman, 
 out at the Shawnee Mission, an' she is distant, vary 
 distant, but she is kin, an' thot is somethin' to be 
 thankfu' for!" 
 
 As Anna and I were dropping off to sleep we could 
 still hear Aunt Jeannie and Rob discussing the 
 wanderings and transplantings of the "family of 
 the MacLeod."' 
 
 In the morning we overslept ourselves, so Aunt 
 Jeannie had to come and call us. 
 
 "Na, na! Juist ye keep on yere pretty double- 
 gowns, an' sit up to the table, tak comfort while 
 ye can! There's nae ane here at a' but me an' 
 John. Ye ought to see the laddie the morn! He 
 was up the earliest ane of a', an' he had his breakfast 
 wi' the men, lang syne." 
 
 But we had to scurry away from the table, and 
 dress ourselves properly, for a half-dozen of the 
 
120 PILGRIMS OF THE PLAINS 
 
 "neebors" called to pay their respects to Aunt 
 Jeannie's company. I think that John must have 
 been out visiting round, for everyone seemed to 
 know all about us, and about the new nephew. 
 
 There was someone "rinnin' oot an* in" all the 
 day long, and at candle-lighting time the house was 
 full of guests. We were friends from the start, 
 frankly interested in each other. 
 
 It is nine years since they left the old country, 
 and it is a matter of pride with them that they 
 "speak the English, pairfectly!" yet their tongues 
 slip into the old way of speech when 'they are not 
 aware of it. It sounds sweet to my ear, for it is 
 the language of Scott and Burns! 
 
 The first song I remember is the lullaby song that 
 mother used to sing at bedtime "Flow gently, 
 sweet Afton, amang thy green braes." The first 
 "piece" that I ever spoke in school was the "Address 
 to a Daisy" "Wee modest crimson-tipped flower." 
 The first book I ever bought for myself was Scott's 
 "Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border." So it is that 
 the language I hear at the Newell's is not strange to 
 me. It gives a distinct flavor of romance to the 
 most prosaic conversation, only their conversa- 
 tion is never just prosaic. Aunt Jeannie has told 
 us of her childhood days on the stormy coasts of 
 Ayr; and Uncle Tammas delights us with anecdotes 
 
EDGE OF CIVILIZATION 
 
 of "Sir Walter." He can quote his works, and 
 especially his shorter ballads, by the page. 
 
 "Aye, I thocht ye would be knowin' aboot his 
 poetry! We was neebors to him, as ane might say 
 twal mile across moor an' mountain, but he 
 made naething o' that! 'Twas not sae seldom that 
 he would stop by for a bit o' chat. We were na 
 rich folk, ye understand, we had oor sheilin' an' 
 a coo, an' that was a'; but he were na the ane to 
 be thinkin' aboot rich an' poor, or anything like 
 thot! 
 
 "It were maistly grannie that he come to see. 
 She knew a-many o' the auld witch an' warlock 
 tales, an' she could hum the tune to mony a choice 
 old ballad, an' Sir Walter would write it doon, an' 
 say thanks for her trouble, same as if she had a title 
 tacked to the before o' her name! It is them that 
 be truly great, like Sir Walter, that is the maist 
 consider't an' truly friendly wi' them that's less 
 than their selves. 'Tis only them that has mair 
 pride than sense, that wears the paughty frown. 
 They needs to, ye ken, so that ordinar' folk may 
 know how fine an' gran' they think theirselves to 
 be!" 
 
 Though Uncle Tammas and his kin were humble 
 folk in Scotland they have so prospered in this new 
 land that they might call themselves rich; but one 
 
PILGRIMS OF THE PLAINS 
 
 would not guess it from their garb, which is quaintly 
 uncouth. The women wear upon their feet what 
 are sailed "shoe-packs" made by themselves 
 from soft dressed leather. Their "linsey-woolsey" 
 petticoats are short and gathered bunchily around 
 their waists, and over these they wear short loose 
 sacques, exactly like bed-gowns ! They probably 
 have silk gowns, and India-shawls, and "boughten 
 shoon," all laid away in their "kists," but these 
 would be "for the keepin' an' no for the wearin'," 
 as Aunt Jeannie explained to us. Though their 
 costumes are ungainly, the people themselves are 
 positively handsome, they are so clean, through 
 and through, so fresh-looking, and so wholesome 
 and kindly; and they show a fine intelligence and 
 natural shrewdness of character. 
 
 Last night the men, with their knives and "bit 
 whittlin'-sticks," sat at one end of the front porch, 
 and the women with their knitting sat at the other. 
 John and I were half-way between the two groups, 
 and we caught disjointed fragments of the conver- 
 sations, as they flowed on uninterruptedly on both 
 sides of us quilt-pieces on this side, the Specie 
 Circular on the other; pine-apple stitch, and the 
 United States Bank; a soap recipe matched with 
 a long dissertation on the deportation of the negro 
 from American soil. 
 
EDGE OF CIVILIZATION 123 
 
 As I listened to the men, to their serious dis- 
 cussion of our national affairs, I could but wish that 
 President Tyler might have advisers as clear-headed 
 and sensible and conscientious as are these canny 
 Scotchmen. 
 
 They were not forgetting their own affairs, either. 
 They really rejoiced over the war agitation. 
 
 "It will bolster up the prices, an' it's mony a day 
 before they twa nations will be ready to begin the 
 fightin', an' a' that time the sky will be rainin' 
 dollars, an' lucky will be they that has their bit 
 baskets ready for to pick up the money as it 
 fa's. It is in times like this that fortunes is to be 
 made." 
 
 They were in highest spirits, cracking their jokes, 
 singing songs, and reciting verse after verse of 
 Bobby Burns's somewhat naughty poems "Tarn 
 o' Shanter," "Holy Fair," and all. 
 
 Boys and girls passed the nuts and cider and 
 doughnuts around among the guests, and after that 
 the younger ones played games, such as we play 
 at home "King William" and "Miss Jinnia 
 Jones," and the older folks sang their old Scotch 
 ditties "The Campbells are Comin'!" and "Robin 
 Tamson's Smiddy. " I believe I will put the song 
 down here, as they say they do not think the 
 poem has ever been "in print." 
 
PILGRIMS OF THE PLAINS 
 
 
 Ranting refrain 
 
 
 ~ t 
 
 "Last Monday night, at sax o*clock, to Mirren Gibbs I went, 
 
 man, 
 To meet wi' some old cronies there, it was my whole intent, 
 
 man. 
 So down we sat and pried the yill; syne I pu'd out my sneeshin* 
 
 mill, 
 And took a pinch wi* right gude will, o* Beggar's Brown, the 
 
 best in town, 
 Then sent it round aboot the room, to gie ilka ane a scent, 
 
 man. 
 
 "Yi-den-derry. yi-den-derry, yi-den-derry, yaw, man. 
 Yi-den-derry, yi-den-derry, yi-den-derry, yaw, man." 
 
 A ranting tune, with a nonsense jingle for a refrain! 
 To please old Grannie Duncan, Aunt Jeannie 
 sang the ballad of "The Four Maries." I knew all 
 the story, as it was in my Scottish Minstrelsy book, 
 but I had never heard it set to the music. 
 
EDGE OF CIVILIZATION 
 
 125 
 
 fid* 
 
 !> IS 
 
 m 
 
 "Last night the Queen had four Maries, this night she'll hae 
 
 but three; 
 
 There was Mary Beaton, and Mary Seaton, and Mary Car- 
 michael and me. 
 
 *'O, aften hae I dressed my queen, and aften made her bed: 
 And now I've gotten for my reward, the gallows tree to tread. 
 
 *'I charge ye all, ye mariners, when ye sail o'er the faem, 
 Let neither my feyther or mither get wit, but that I am com- 
 ing hame. 
 
 *'O, little did my mither think when first she cradled me, 
 That I would dee sae far frae hame, or hang on a gallows- 
 tree. 
 
 " They'll tie a napkin aboot my een, an* they'll no let me see to 
 
 dee, 
 
 An* they'll let neither my feyther or mither get wit, but I'm 
 awa o'er the sea. 
 
 Refrain: 
 "Last night the Queen had four Maries, this night she'll hae 
 
 but three: 
 
 There was Mary Beaton, and Mary Seaton, and Mary Car- 
 michael and me." 
 
 Hiram has been here! Before we saw him we 
 heard him whistling, his loudest liveliest whistle, 
 and the tune was ' ' Money-Musk " ! A good augury ! 
 
126 PILGRIMS OF THE PLAINS 
 
 A moment later we saw him, his hands stuck in his 
 belt, a braggadocio swagger in his walk, his beaver 
 cap set rakishly askew, with its tails bobbing gayly 
 almost in his eyes. He did not wait for us to ask 
 questions. 
 
 "Didn't I say, all the time, that that Ury Dowton 
 was a straight-out honest feller? Your Uncle 
 Fuller wasn't born yesterday! And his brother Oty 
 is one of the finest boys I ever see! He's got a fine 
 farm, and say, them 'forty head, more or less/ 
 turned out to be full fifty and one or two over! 
 And that Oty never made any kind of a fuss 
 about turning of 'em over, and he come with us 
 right along close to Westport, to help with the 
 drivin'. 
 
 "It was two o'clock when we come to the yard, 
 and that Iggy Beauchemie heard us and unlocked 
 the gates, and let us in. We was so dead tired, 
 Kit and me, that we tumbled right down in the hay, 
 and slept till daybreak, and there was a right 
 lively scrimmage goin' on, and shootin' and all, 
 but we was too nigh tuckered out to even go and 
 see what it was all about. 
 
 "The Deacon's been a-figgerin' up what all I'll 
 have to invest in goods, and it is a great start. 
 They are stackin' up the stuff now, and loadin' it 
 into the wagins, for me and the Boissieres and Rob. 
 
EDGE OF CIVILIZATION 127 
 
 The boys is mighty puffed up, to see their names 
 chalked out big on all them boxes and bales! 
 
 "And the Deacon told me to tell you, for you 
 folks to be ready to start right away the kerridge 
 will be here for you most any minute." 
 
 Sethy Burroughs came tumbling in, a minute or 
 so ago, with the most astonishing piece of news. 
 "The constable's got Iggy Beauchemie down the 
 well!" There is an old dry well in the jail-yard, 
 that is sometimes used as a cell when the jail is full. 
 
 "Tain't real dry, that well ain't, but they put 
 Iggy Beauchemie down there, and he's cryin' like 
 to bust! They do say that he shot the weddin'- 
 groom last night what they was shivareein' and 
 he says he never done it, and that the men that 
 came in last night knows he never, neither, for he 
 was a fodderin' down the critters for 'em when the 
 shootin' was goin' on. And that other one has gone 
 on out to the Tradin* Post, and the Deacon says 
 that Mr. Hiram are to come down to the jail-yard 
 and help Iggy out'n his trouble and out'n the well. 
 That's what the Deacon says for you to come 
 back with me!" 
 
 On account of this affair, the Deacon's wagons will 
 not leave the town till after dinner, but Aunt 
 Jeannie, and Rob, and Anna, and John and I are 
 
128 PILGRIMS OF^THE PLAINS 
 
 going put a little way along the Trail, as far as the 
 Shawnee Indian Mission, to see Cousin Mary Berry- 
 man. 
 
 "She'll be glad to see any friends of the Deacon's, 
 and special glad to see Rob, who is, as ane might 
 say, a relative seein' he is so near kin to me!" 
 
 I've got to put this book away, this minute! We 
 will cross the Missouri line, and be out on the plains 
 within an hour! 
 
CHAPTER XV 
 THE SIGN OF THE LONG FAREWELL 
 
 THIS is Saturday night, and we are en- 
 camped at "Black Jack," fifty-five miles 
 out on the "Trail." It is almost three 
 weeks since John and I and father crossed the 
 ferry at Dixon, and now the real journey is only 
 just, "as ane might say," begun! The prologue is 
 ended. The curtain is rising upon the drama. The 
 title? "As You Like It"? "All's Well that Ends 
 Well"? I am sure it will not be "Love's Labour's 
 Lost" for John is getting stronger every day, 
 and will soon be well, everybody says so. 
 
 Aunt Jeannie, when we were at Westport, plied 
 him with broths and custards, in between his regular 
 meals; and before and after eating she gave him 
 half -glassful doses of her famous "black-draught"; 
 and she gave me a quart of it, to bring with us, and 
 laid it upon me as a duty that I am to see that he 
 takes it, till it is gone. 
 
 He is saucy and prankish and mischievous, as 
 only a seventeen-year-old boy can be, and Auguste 
 and Franchy think he is so smart! And Deacon 
 
130 PILGRIMS OF THE PLAINS 
 
 Gentry smiles at his badness! Some day when I 
 find my "little" brother rolled up tight in his 
 blankets I am going to take my slipper to him to 
 show him that I am still a person of authority, 
 in-so-far as he is concerned. 
 
 The wide prairies are glorious! The wind salutes 
 us with a sweet, fresh kiss as it passes. It tosses 
 straggling locks of hair, and keeps Anna's lovely 
 blue veil in a perpetual state of flutter. The rank 
 grasses are already more than waist high, and their 
 slender points dip and sway under the breath of the 
 breeze, till all of the surface of the plain breaks into 
 wavelets, as if the prairie were a river of flowing 
 water vividly and glowingly green. 
 
 And this lovely country hasn't even a name! 
 On the maps they call it indefinitely the 
 Indian Country; and people when they write of it 
 call it sometimes "the prairie wilderness." It is 
 not a wilderness! And as for its being an Indian 
 country well there are Indians, and Indians. 
 
 The Indians here have their schools and churches, 
 and good farms well fenced, and gardens and or- 
 chards and civilized homes. At Shawnee Mission 
 the two school-houses are really imposing structures, 
 that would be a credit to many an Eastern city. 
 We had to confess our surprise to Aunt Jeannie. 
 
THE LONG FAREWELL 131 
 
 "Aye, everybody is that astonished when they 
 sees them stannin' up sae high an' gran', an' 
 they others is good hooses, the caepenter-shop, an' 
 the smithy, an' the weavin' hoose. An', see ye? 
 . Yon's the mill, an' the brick kiln, an' a', an' a'; like 
 a village it be! An' it's the big orchard they hae, 
 wi' apples these twa years, an' d'ye see the rows 
 o' peas an' onions, an' the green corn all comin' 
 on fine! Cousin Mary Berryman an' her gude mon 
 are the great managers ! An' it's the gude preachin' 
 an' teachin' that they give their people! An' well 
 I know it, for times I come oot here, thinkin' to 
 cheer her up, an' go awa' wi' more help frae them 
 than I could ha' brought. She is a vary well-spring 
 o' courage an' cheerfulness, an' that proud o' they 
 little Indian lads an' lassies that's unner her charge! 
 By profession she is a Methody, but Methody or 
 Presbyterian, she is ane o' the Lord's Elect! 
 
 "They lassies yander, a-hangin' oot the claes, 
 why disna they be a-rinnin' in to tell her we're 
 comin', 'stead of stannin' there an' starin'? Na, 
 na, gae on wi' your wark, we knows the way in!" 
 
 And Aunt Jeannie took us around to the back 
 door, and we entered the kitchen to find "Cousin 
 Mary" sitting in the center of a shouting ring of 
 little Indian maids, who were chanting their table 
 of fiveses to the tune of "Yankee Doodle" "Five 
 
132 PILGRIMS OF THE PLAINS 
 
 times five are twenty-five, and five times six are 
 thirty," and while she kept a sharp eye upon 
 them to see that each one was doing her part prop- 
 erly, she was shelling a bushel of new peas, for their 
 dinner. 
 
 The "Fiveses" came to a sudden stop! The 
 basket of peas was spilled on the floor, and the shy 
 Indian girls were allowed to slip out of the room, as 
 Cousin Mary rose to give us greeting. There was a 
 tender gratitude in her manner, that made the quick 
 tears spring to my eyes. The look of high courage 
 is stamped upon her brow, but for all her courage, 
 she knows what loneliness and homesickness are, I 
 am sure. The lingering tremulous touch of her lips 
 upon my cheek told me that much. She took to 
 Anna as if she were her very own sister and indeed 
 they are enough alike to be sisters. John, she said, 
 was the handsomest lad her eyes had ever rested 
 upon! And wasn't she proud of her big nephew, 
 when Aunt Jeannie explained him to her! 
 
 Rob made himself at home in the very first 
 minute. He built up the fire, and helped pare the 
 potatoes, and stirred the corn-pone, and put it to 
 baking the Indian girls looking on helplessly, 
 and dinner was the same as ready, before we 
 women had the long tables set. 
 
 Aunt Jeannie knew how to make herself beloved. 
 
THE LONG FAREWELL 1SS 
 
 She brought with her a crock full of raisin pudding, 
 enough so each one of the eighty children should 
 have a generous helping. All through the meal 
 they had been on their best behavior, but when 
 the pudding came, they forgot "manners," and 
 gobbled it down, and nudged each others' elbows, 
 and stole each others' portion, just as if they had 
 been nice civilized white children! 
 
 We spent several hours at the Mission, watching 
 the pupils at work, and hearing them at their lessons. 
 They sang for us, in English and in their own tongue; 
 and I persuaded one of them, not so bashful as the 
 others, to spell out for me a verse of one of their 
 Shawnee hymns. She stood by me and gravely 
 nodded her approval as I wrote it down. 
 
 "Na-peache mi ce ta ha, 
 
 Che na mo si ti we. 
 Ma ci ke na mis wa la ti, 
 Mi ti na pi ni." 
 
 "Alas, and did my Saviour bleed, 
 
 And did my Sovereign die? 
 Would He devote that Sacred Head 
 For such a worm as I?" 
 
 The spoken language of the Shawnees is musical 
 in itself; and its syllables are open and liquid, such 
 as fit themselves to music most aptly and beauti- 
 fully. 
 
134 PILGRIMS OF THE PLAINS 
 
 While we were engaged up-stairs, in the school- 
 room, Mr. Breunner and Mr. Harrod and Kit Car- 
 son came over from the Chouteau Trading Post. 
 Mr. Breunner and his friend are going with our 
 caravan as far as Santa Fe, and Mr. Carson is on 
 his way to the crossing of the Kaw, where Fool- 
 Chief's village is. He is to hold a pow-wow and 
 palaver with Fool-Chief on Fremont's behalf to 
 secure his friendly services for the Expedition. We 
 stood in the doorway and watched the Deacon's 
 line of wagons coming down over the little divide 
 and a large and imposing cavalcade it was. There 
 were thirty-three wagons, each with its ten yoke of 
 oxen, and there was a string of loose stock (as 
 they call it, the caballadd) being driven along in 
 the rear; and there was a little company of horsemen 
 riding in advance, and others at the sides, armed 
 cap-a-pie, as if they belonged to the regulars! 
 
 A dozen Indian boys busied themselves hitching 
 up the two spans of mules to our traveling-carriage. 
 We climbed in and settled ourselves, and all our 
 little extra packages, as comfortably as we could 
 and it was then that I realized for the first time 
 something of what our journey is to be. For months 
 this carriage will be the only home we will know. 
 
 Iggy Beauchemie, our driver, took his place on 
 the back of the "nigh-leader," and the carriage 
 
THE LONG FAREWELL 135 
 
 swung into line with the wagons. The caravan was 
 in motion ! The Plains Pilgrimage was begun ! And 
 now I cannot remember if I kissed Aunt Jeannie 
 good-bye, or not. 
 
 Hiram came to us, to see that everything was 
 ship-shape, and in order, and for a long time he 
 walked beside us talking with Iggy Beauchemie 
 the same Iggy that the constable had "down the 
 well." Hiram's evidence had released him, of 
 course, but the Deacon brought him with us to be 
 sure that there would be no further trouble for 
 him. 
 
 Hiram is "mighty proud" of the caravan. He says: 
 "The Deacon's never skimpy with his outfitting 
 and every year he goes a little better purvided than 
 the year before. He's got a extry lot of guns to be 
 slung at the side of the wagons, and a howitzer, too. 
 Last year he said when the Injuns follered us so, 
 he wished he had a big gun just for its moral 
 influence on 'em! If they was to hear it go off 
 they would be skeered into conniption fits, and 
 wouldn't be hangin' 'round, and actin' so previous- 
 like! 
 
 "They wouldn't be no need of havin' trouble with 
 these here plains Injuns if it wasn't for the renegade 
 rascally whites, that has come out here calculatin' 
 to cheat an<J rob and misuse 'em. They made their 
 
136 PILGRIMS OF THE PLAINS 
 
 treaties, and kept 'em better than would be expected, 
 till right lately. But they are gittin' riled up; and 
 when an Injun gits ready for to take his revenge, 
 he never stops to look for the special feller that has 
 done him wrong he settles his account with the 
 first pale-face that he can get his hands on! And 
 so 'tis that a body has to keep his eyes peeled for 
 trouble! But if people goes prepared to defend 
 theirselves, special if the caravan is a big one and 
 they is plenty of men, they ain't apt to be no 
 great danger!" 
 
 All this someway did not sound so very reassuring! 
 And the Deacon did not help things any when he 
 came to the carriage, and laid a big brown paper 
 parcel in my lap, and I opened it and found that 
 it contained three Colt's revolvers, revolving, 
 rapid-firing pistols, one each for Anna and John 
 and me. 
 
 The Deacon said he came across them, quite by 
 accident, yesterday. 
 
 "I did not know there was one of these weapons 
 for sale in Westport. The people who have them 
 prize them too highly to part with them, the factory 
 where they were made has shut down, and they are 
 out of the market. These went with a lot of other 
 stuff, in a forced sale, and I took advantage of the 
 opportunity to secure them for you. It is not at 
 
THE LONG FAREWELL 137 
 
 all likely that you will ever need them, but it is 
 prudent to be prepared for the unexpected." 
 
 Miss Curiosity had the wrappers off from hers 
 before the Deacon had half finished his explana- 
 tion; and John was eager as I. The weapon is a 
 marvel of mechanical ingenuity. Six chambers 
 can be loaded all at once. Back of the short single 
 barrel is a revolving cylinder wherein are placed 
 six charges of ball and powder. They are brought 
 successively under a hammer, that fires a percussion- 
 cap, and so discharges the load. Six shots can be 
 fired with inconceivable rapidity, without stop- 
 ping to reload. When we stopped at our first camp, 
 Mr. Carson came over to show us how to use the 
 new revolvers. He says it was these same Colt's 
 revolvers that put a stop to the Seminole War! 
 The Indians were terrorized to see our soldiers stand 
 there and fire, and keep on firing without ever stop- 
 ping to reload that is what they thought. Their 
 medicine-men told them there was bewitchment 
 in such guns, and that the touch of one of the bullets 
 was sure death so they were ready to sign for 
 peace, when the chance was given them. 
 
 Mr. Carson showed us how to load and how to 
 hold the gun, and gave us a lecture on the science 
 of taking aim. 
 
 "You will never make a good shot if you try to 
 
138 PILGRIMS OF THE PLAINS 
 
 hold your sight on your game. It's got to be done 
 off-hand, with a free sweep, so to speak, like an 
 Indian shoots his arrow." 
 
 As he spoke he saw, high in the air above us, an 
 eagle soaring. He turned the revolver upward, 
 with an easy unhurried motion, and touched the 
 trigger. 
 
 "When your sight comes into line with the spot 
 you want to hit, that very instant you want to let 
 her go. There's the allowance to be made for the 
 speed of the animal, an' for the wind" 
 
 I had been looking at the eagle, floating in the 
 air above us. I saw it drop a little ways, and beat 
 the air desperately with its wings and then come 
 whirling down! Carson looked at the shapeless 
 mass of feathers, lying there in the dust, and then he 
 looked at the little shining weapon in his hand! 
 
 "I never went for to fetch him down. I don't 
 aim to do no useless killin'. But I never thought 
 it was in the gun to do such as that. It's a special 
 fine weapon that'll carry that far!" 
 
 With a connoisseur's delight, he examined the 
 gun again, point by point, polishing its bright 
 barrel on his sleeve, and sighting through the open 
 chambers. 
 
 Our lesson on the handling of guns was over for 
 the day, but there are other lessons. Deacon 
 
THE LONG FAREWELL 139 
 
 Gentry does not intend that we shall go down into 
 the country of the Spaniard, ignorant of the lan- 
 guage. He took the pains to purchase for me a 
 Spanish dictionary and grammar, but I am not 
 going to tie myself down too closely to book-study. 
 In this case I am sure it will not be necessary. The 
 traders and teamsters, those who make yearly trips 
 to Mexico, all speak the Spanish as readily as they 
 speak English probably quite as correctly, too, 
 their English not being above criticism! 
 
 Hearing it on every side, for they seem to like 
 to use the expressive Spanish phrases, and having 
 my books for occasional reference, I think the 
 language will come to us without much effort on 
 our part. 
 
 That first evening in camp seemed the most 
 wonderful I had ever experienced. There was 
 everything new to see, and so many things to do! 
 
 John and I and Mr. Carson watched the men as 
 they made their preparations for the night. The 
 cattle were staked out to graze, and the wagons, 
 drawn up in a close circle, were securely chained 
 together, wheel to wheel. At bedtime the oxen 
 were brought in from their feeding-ground, and 
 placed within this strong barricade, that they 
 might not be stampeded by thieving Indians or 
 
140 PILGRIMS OF THE PLAINS 
 
 devoured by the wolves that always follow close on 
 the heels of the caravan. 
 
 Our cook, Mr. Williams, served us with the finest 
 supper. He is a paragon and a wonder, a little 
 crazy, but a lovely cook. He is a preacher, too, 
 dismissed from his circuit, because he cannot refrain 
 from getting drunk at intervals. Now that he has 
 taken up the profession of cook, he will still be 
 wearing his ministerial habiliments. He is espe- 
 cially devoted to his tall silk hat! One never sees 
 him without it on his head, when he is cooking, 
 and at all times! That is why I think he must be 
 a little crazy. 
 
 He has promised the Deacon faithfully that he 
 will not drink a drop, while he is with us, and the 
 Deacon has promised him faithfully that he will 
 have him soundly thrashed if that pledge is broken 
 and the Deacon will keep his word. This is by Mr. 
 Williams's own request, as the Presiding Elder is to 
 reinstate him if he keeps from drinking for a whole 
 year. 
 
 After supper I began to inquire how our beds for 
 the night were to be arranged, and Hiram came 
 over and helped us to convert our carriage into the 
 coziest kind of a bedroom, plenty big enough for 
 Anna and me. 
 
 The seats were taken out, and buffalo-robes and 
 
THE LONG FAREWELL 141 
 
 blankets laid down, soft as a feather-bed, and our 
 white sheets and quilts spread over them. Hiram 
 fixed a folding-shelf for a toilet-table, and we have 
 two lanterns to hang from the roof, and two 
 candle sconces! When the curtains are fastened 
 close and tight it is as comfortable as one could 
 wish for. 
 
 I wanted John to have a bed made in Hiram's 
 wagon, but, no, he would sleep on the ground, with 
 Auguste on one side of him and Franchy on the 
 other. That first night I think they none of them 
 tried to sleep, I heard them talking and giggling 
 like a lot of boarding-school girls! 
 
 It was too lovely a night for any one to sleep. 
 Anna and I drew the curtains back, and looked up 
 through the dark branches of the great walnut- 
 trees, to the soft purple sky studded thick with 
 twinkling stars. 
 
 A party of hunters came into camp with a deer 
 slung on a pole between them. They heaped dry- 
 wood on the glowing coals, and the sudden burst of 
 flame wrought a wondrous transformation in the 
 scene. 
 
 There was no longer any distant purple sky, lit 
 by trembling stars. The red blaze, vivid and 
 intense, blinded us to all save itself, and the near- 
 by objects 9 that caught its glare. This place 
 
142 PILGRIMS OF THE PLAINS 
 
 was not the out-of-doors. We were within a 
 Gothic temple the tree-trunks were pillars of 
 ruddy gold, and the branches that met overhead 
 marked the arches of the lofty roof; the screen of 
 leaves, stained with tints of crimson and gray and 
 scarlet and gold, formed the painted and fretted 
 ceiling. 
 
 Irving's description of those wonderful Moorish 
 palaces on the banks of the Guadalquivir, the 
 palaces of the Alhambra, came to my mind, and I 
 wondered if the master-artist who first dreamed 
 them, and then fashioned them in stone, had not 
 received his inspiration from some such scene as 
 this. 
 
 I felt Anna's soft warm hand on my brow, and her 
 fingers lightly touched my eyelids, to close them. 
 
 "There now, Cricket! You have looked long 
 enough! There will be other nights lovely as this!" 
 
 And she raised herself on her elbow, and tucked 
 the clothes around me and I was asleep in that 
 very minute! 
 
 The next thing of which I was conscious, was the 
 loud clattering of an iron spoon on the bottom of 
 the dish-pan, which was Mr. Williams's polite way 
 of calling our attention to the fact that breakfast 
 was ready. 
 
THE LONG FAREWELL 143 
 
 While the others were still lingering over their 
 flap-jacks and bacon, the Deacon signed to me to 
 come with him out where the caballada were grazing. 
 John was there with Mr. Carson. They were 
 looking at two most beautiful ponies, bright 
 sorrels and mates, and they are ours, John's and 
 mine! The Deacon explained: 
 
 "You would need riding ponies, of course other- 
 wise you would find the pace of the caravan slow 
 past enduring. You will be wanting to spend half 
 of your time on horseback, as soon as John is strong 
 enough for such exercise. There could be nothing 
 better for the boy." 
 
 The ponies already had been given names, and 
 would come when they were called by them. John's 
 is "Barnaby," and mine is "Aguilita" "the little 
 eaglet." The name suits her perfectly she is so 
 bold and swift and free! 
 
 Mr. Carson showed me how to braid her mane 
 with strips of red and green cloth, as the Indians do; 
 and he brought out from the inside of his jacket 
 two splendid eagle-feathers, which he thrust through 
 the braid of her foretop, at a smart coquettish angle, 
 just as an Indian maid would wear such an ornament. 
 And Aguilita tossed her head and preened herself 
 with conscious pride, to find herself tricked out in a 
 girl's finery. 
 
144 PILGRIMS OF THE PLAINS 
 
 Since we came out from York-State I have always 
 ridden bareback, and now I only had to girt on a 
 blanket, and I was ready to mount. Before Aguilita 
 knew what was happening, Mr. Carson had lifted me, 
 and I was on her back. She stood straight up, and 
 plunged, and went through some fancy dancing steps; 
 but quieted down as soon as she understood that 
 everything was all right. Her former master had 
 ridden her astride, and guided her by pressure of 
 the knee; so she had to accustom herself to my 
 woman's way of riding all on one side and a 
 very awkward and uncomfortable way she seemed 
 to think it was! Yet she consented to overlook it, 
 as a special favor to the young lady on her back, 
 the poor young lady who evidently knew no better 
 than to ride in that fashion! Mr. Carson led her 
 around till she became somewhat accustomed to 
 me and my ways, and then he mounted John's 
 Barnaby, and we rode the full length of the camp, 
 both of the ponies behaving beautifully. We have 
 had many rides together since then. 
 
 John told Mr. Carson that he wanted to learn a 
 secret call something like an insect's chirp 
 something that no one would recognize as a call 
 but Barnaby. He had read of some such thing in one 
 of his story-books in an Indian camp it had saved 
 the hero's life. Mr. Carson smiled, but he said the 
 
THE LONG FAREWELL 145 
 
 idea was not a bad one, and he taught us to make a 
 clear short sharp trilling sound between our teeth 
 and our ponies know it already, and come at the 
 summons, and no one would guess that we had 
 called them. 
 
 If there is anything John does not know about 
 life in the wild West, it is not for want of question- 
 ing; and because it is John who asks, Mr. Carson 
 talks freely of his adventures, though he seems to 
 think them hardly worth the recounting. 
 
 Mr. Breunner says: 
 
 "If another Homer should write another Odyssey, 
 there is no one so fitted for the part of the hero 
 as Kit Carson. If the poet should tell Carson's 
 life-story, without adding to it or subtracting from 
 it, it would surpass the ancient world-famous epic, 
 by just as much as Carson himself surpasses 
 the Greek hero in cunning and resourcefulness, 
 in power of endurance, in self-reliance and cour- 
 age. Carson is the possessor of all the virtues 
 that especially belong to heroes, and other and 
 rarer virtues he has, the virtues that endear a man 
 to his fellowman. He is unspoiled by flattery, 
 though of this he has had his full share. He is 
 gentle-minded, and honest and simple and true 
 too modest a man for the world to discover his real 
 worth." 
 
146 PILGRIMS OF THE PLAINS 
 
 I like to talk of Mr. Carson. It is next best to 
 seeing him. And see him again we never will! 
 
 We did not know he thought of leaving us to-night! 
 After supper, we rode across to the hills on the south, 
 and raced back to camp in a magnificent wild run. 
 I had hardly recovered breath when he wheeled his 
 horse away and was gone. He said "Good-bye" to 
 the Deacon and Mr. Breunner, but not to me! 
 
 Aguilita did not understand it, nor did she intend 
 to be left in this abrupt unfriendly way. She 
 called after him. (I would have done so, if she had 
 not!) Mr. Carson turned in his saddle, and looked 
 back, and lifted his arms, and made the sign that 
 in the Indian sign-language means, "Farewell 
 the long, the long Farewell!" And that means, 
 "Farewell, forever!" 
 
 I remember when I used to stand at mother's 
 side, and lay my head against her shoulder, and 
 she would put the twinnies down, and take me 
 big girl as I was in her lap, and sing to me in the 
 soft undertone that mothers use when there are 
 childish hurts and griefs to be soothed. And the 
 song that she sang then, Anna is singing now, as 
 she sits sewing by the light of her candle not 
 knowing that I am listening. 
 
THE LONG FAREWELL 
 
 147 
 
 "My heart's in the highlands, 
 
 My heart is not here. 
 My heart's in the highlands, 
 
 A-chasing the deer. 
 A-chasing the red deer, 
 
 And following the roe, 
 My heart's in the highlands, 
 
 Wherever I go." 
 
CHAPTER XVI 
 AN INDIAN TRADE 
 
 IT'S a-takin' one's religious feelings too far West, 
 to be a-trying to keep Sunday out on the 
 plains! But I wouldn't say but the Deacon 
 mayn't be right, for he's always one of the lucky 
 ones, and the caravan he goes with, is always lucky, 
 too. 'T would naterally seem 'twould be a waste 
 of vallyble time to stop and rest one day out of 
 every seven, but the caravan that abides by it, 
 accordin' as the Deacon says, does somehow come 
 through in a leetle better time than them that 
 don't, likewise they always strikes a good market! 
 I reckon it's just luck, but if 'tis, why 't behooves 
 us to stick by it and not do nothing to contrary 
 it. 'Tain't nowise safe to cross your luck. Any- 
 body knows that!" 
 
 This seems to be the general opinion of the men 
 of the caravan regarding the good Deacon's "pecul- 
 iar notions" about Sunday travel. But if we had 
 wanted to travel the last Sunday, we could not 
 have done so! On Saturday evening, before the 
 
AN INDIAN TRADE 149 
 
 time to put them inside the wagon-corral, a bunch 
 of oxen and mules pulled their picket-pins and 
 "vamoosed," and it took our men-folks till the 
 middle of Sunday afternoon to round them up, and 
 bring them in. They are as yet unused to traveling 
 together, they are over well fed, and too full of 
 spirit. But this condition will not last long a 
 few hard pulls such as they had Monday at "the 
 Narrows" will make them meek and quiet enough! 
 
 There is a hill there about two hundred feet 
 high, so steep the men had to rig up the "block- 
 and-tickle" to help pull the wagons up, and then to 
 let them down on the further side. The oxen alone 
 were not able to do it, though they doubled the 
 teams on every wagon. 
 
 The hill was bad enough, but the quagmire at its 
 foot was "worser," and it did not look like a 
 quagmire at all! There was a dry crust over it, 
 that would almost hold a man up, but the heavy 
 wagons crushed right down through it, and into % 
 the mud, hub deep. The men had to wade in and 
 help at the wheels, pushing and lifting, as the great 
 beasts tugged and puffed and strained. A pretty 
 sight the men were, with limbs clogged with heavy 
 yellow and green clay, and their faces smeared and 
 streaked, for all the world like painted Indians! 
 
 Mr. Harrod was as deep in the niire as anybody 
 
150 PILGRIMS OF THE PLAINS 
 
 and it was here that we came first to really know 
 him for what he is, a most capable commander and 
 leader. He is no stranger to the West, having 
 been one of the best known of the merchants of 
 Santa Fe some five years ago. He has traveled the 
 plains many times once as "Captain of the Cara- 
 van"; so when we got into difficulties the direction 
 of things seemed to fall naturally to him. As if 
 it were a part of an every-day routine duty, he 
 gave his orders, and the men worked together, 
 without hurry and without excitement, accomplish- 
 ing really wonderful feats of strength with no waste 
 of effort. The men believe in "Captain Harrod," 
 and rely on him. 
 
 "They ain't no one more capable than him, when 
 there's a tight place to be got out of! He'll do to 
 depend on that-a-way, same as always; though he 
 don't resemble the man he used to be no more'n 
 frozen ice resembles bilin' hot steam! He used to 
 be that gay and sociable, the life of the camp. Not 
 like he is now, a-keepin' hisself to hisself, sayin' 
 nothin' about what's his business, nor about the 
 stuff he's a-carryin' in them wagons of his ammu- 
 nition and weapons as some of 'em say and it's 
 enough to make a man right curious!" 
 
 They do not need to be prying into his private 
 affairs. He has a right to keep "himself to him- 
 
AN INDIAN TRADE 151 
 
 self," and whatever his business is, it is legitimate 
 and righteous, one may be very sure of that! 
 
 There is nothing so secret regarding the plans and 
 purposes of Professor Breunner. At the University 
 of Gottingen they have some special reason for' 
 being interested in Mexico I think the president 
 of the University has travelled in that country 
 but at any rate the Baron von Munsterberg formally 
 commissioned Mr. Breunner to go there as the 
 representative of the University, to make a study 
 of the ancient Spanish and Aztec records and ruins. 
 
 "Even before the Baron mentioned the subject I 
 had myself been thinking that I might make the 
 trip to the Southwest," Mr. Breunner said. "If 
 there is to be war with Mexico, this may be my 
 last opportunity to visit that most interesting 
 country and there are many reasons besides." 
 
 Mr. Breunner has loaned me a map showing the) 
 country we are crossing. As I marked upon it the 
 course of our journey I was surprised at its great 
 length. If the crooked line were a straight one, 
 it would reach more than half-way across this conti- 
 nent! It is a longer journey, and a more perilous 
 journey, than any of us had thought! Had we 
 known as much about it six weeks ago as we do to- 
 day, I doubt if father would have let us attempt it. 
 
152 PILGRIMS OF THE PLAINS 
 
 I fancy that many of the great and daring deeds 
 we read of, in the lives of warriors and statesmen, 
 are done because they are undertaken heedlessly, 
 in ignorance of the dangers to be encountered. 
 Once in the midst of difficulties one must struggle 
 through, and so a reputation for courage is won, 
 that may be no more than half deserved. 
 
 So it will probably be with us. They will think 
 us brave, when we were in reality only ignorant! 
 
 But if I could now turn back, I would not. The 
 apprehension of approaching danger is not enough 
 to daunt us. It is only enough to spice the ad- 
 venture, to make the journey seem more enticing 
 to the fancy. We talk of danger, but we do not 
 really believe in it! 
 
 I was almost disappointed to-day, that I could 
 not summon the littlest thrill of fear, when we saw, 
 in the distance, a band of Indians approaching! 
 But they did not swoop down upon us, as we were 
 half-inclined to believe prairie Indians would do. 
 No, they came along very sedately, fifty of them, 
 going on a visit to their Kaw friends, up at the 
 mouth of the Kansas river. 
 
 Their shaggy little ponies were dragging loads 
 much too heavy for them tepees, and cooking- 
 kettles, and papooses, piled up anyhow all to- 
 gether on the trailing tepee-poles. Mr. Indian 
 
AN INDIAN TRADE 153 
 
 rode the family horse which dragged the family 
 belongings, and Mrs. Indian walked alongside, 
 happy in the fact that her dear lord was comfortable, 
 I suppose! 
 
 The caravan stopped, to palaver with the band, 
 and to "trade." Mr. Williams, the cook, got some 
 cheese and garden-truck, enough to last us for 
 several meals, and gave in exchange a handful of 
 bright buttons the poor squaws quite contented 
 with the bargain! 
 
 Later, things began to get a bit too lively, when a 
 dozen young braves rode up and joined the others. 
 They were disposed to be decidedly mischievous. 
 It is a rule with travelers to keep up a show of 
 good-humor with the Indians they meet, and not 
 resent anything except what is meant to be real 
 hostility. So the men allowed themselves to be 
 rudely shoved and jostled, and the biggest of the 
 young Indians put his arm around Rob's neck, and 
 tousled his hair, and went through the pantomine 
 of scalping him, all the time whooping in the most 
 realistic style! It was very amusing to the Indians 
 who were gathered around, and they doubled 
 themselves up with mirth, and stamped, and laughed 
 uproariously. Rob laughed with them and then 
 proceeded to reciprocate in kind! He gave his too 
 friendly friend a friendly squeeze in the ribs, that 
 
154 PILGRIMS OF THE PLAINS 
 
 made him gasp. There was a sound like a rib 
 cracking, and when Rob dropped him he was a 
 wiser, as he was a sadder, Indian! 
 
 This put an end to their rough play, but they 
 still presumed upon our good-nature. They rode 
 alongside of the wagons, and poked their heads 
 inside the covers, and if they saw anything they 
 wanted they seized upon it, and held on to it, and 
 tried to make us take something in trade for it 
 extra moccasins, beaded bags, and the like. 
 
 While we were looking in another direction, two 
 boys slipped into our carriage, and made off with 
 Anna's bonnet the one with the wreath of cherries 
 around the crown, and Hiram would not let Anna 
 say one word! 
 
 I had been watching three little Indian infants 
 scrabbling for bones in among the ashes of our 
 camp-fire, when I heard some bigger boys quarreling 
 fiercely over something they had "found." It was 
 my precious toilet-box! One had hold of the lid, 
 and the other was hanging fast to the box, when it 
 came apart and the contents were scattered every- 
 where! I laid hands on both of those copper-hued 
 boys, and talked to them in the strongest English I 
 dared to use. They understood it, and gave me all 
 that was left of the toilet-case; but it was in three 
 pieces; and right there before my very eyes one 
 
AN INDIAN TRADE 155 
 
 little wretch of an Indian boy sat and ate up all 
 that face-cream that Aunt Hattie B. had made so 
 specially for me! 
 
 Most of the Indians had gone on, when one of the 
 squaws came to the carriage, and cautiously took 
 out from under her greasy blanket a beautiful eagle- 
 feather head-dress. She motioned that I was to 
 put it on my head, and as I stood there, the long 
 streamer, all edged with feathers, swept the ground. 
 And this she offered to trade for the wreck of the 
 toilet-box. It was the mirror she wanted. She 
 put out her tongue and laughed to see the reflection 
 in the glass do the same, and she was so busily en- 
 gaged in this pleasing performance, she could pay 
 very little heed to us. The bargain was forced upon 
 me, for her hands did not let go the box, and she 
 hurried off with it, leaving me the head-dress in 
 exchange ! 
 
 Robideaux one of the older plainsmen said 
 the squaw probably stole it out of some Cheyenne's 
 tent. "It is Cheyenne make, not in the least like 
 anything of the Kaws' making." I do not see how 
 he could be so sure. 
 
 I can not help but regret the loss of my face- 
 cream. It is serious, for the winds of the prairie 
 burn my face. I may be compelled to borrow one 
 of Anna's blue veils, only I hate to shut myself up 
 
156 PILGRIMS OF THE PLAINS 
 
 behind a smothery veil. It is so splendid so 
 glorious to ride full in the face of the strong west 
 wind! I feel that I could fly, if only I dared to 
 launch myself in space, and trust myself to its 
 strength ! 
 
 I want Anna lazy Anna! to share this pleas- 
 ure with me to ride with me; but she will not 
 be persuaded, even though I offered to let her ride 
 my own pony, Aguilita. John is not allowed to 
 mount his horse, Barnaby, as yet. The Deacon 
 will not go with me. He says he is "too old to go 
 scampering across the prairie on a half-broken 
 mustang"; so I have to ride alone, and must never 
 go out of sight of the caravan. 
 
 This visit of the Indians has given the men some- 
 thing new to talk about. We are all beginning to 
 feel better acquainted with each other. When 
 evening comes we draw our boxes and cushiony 
 buffalo-robes up to the cheerful fire, and the Deacon 
 makes a place near him for John; Anna and I 
 sit near; and we listen, and do not say much, 
 as young folks should do, when their elders are 
 speaking. 
 
 Sometimes Joe-Lu's violin makes itself heard 
 always from a distance, always from somewhere 
 out in the shadows. Perhaps Joe-Lu finds the key 
 to our feelings in the blaze of the campfire. When 
 
AN INDIAN TRADE 157 
 
 the flame leaps high and scatters its glowing sparks 
 in a fountain of fire, then the music comes full 
 and strong and free! Sometimes when the blaze 
 dies down and our voices drop into half-silences, 
 the strings murmur the sweet dear strains of the 
 home-songs. 
 
 I do not know which is sweetest, the melody, or 
 the first hush that follows it. Nor do I know which 
 is dearest, the bright dancing firelight, or the soft 
 cloak of darkness that enfolds us, as we lay our 
 heads upon our pillows, and nestle down into our 
 soft blankets for the night. 
 
CHAPTER XVII 
 
 SWEET FIELDS BEYOND THE SWELLING 
 FLOOD 
 
 1THIS is no monotonously level plain, stretch- 
 ing away drearily into interminable dis- 
 tance. The contour of the country is 
 beautifully diversified, with hills, not steep, valleys, 
 not wide, little rivers, not deep, and groves, not big 
 enough to get lost in, but big enough to afford a 
 grateful shade for our noonday rest. 
 
 It does not seem like the old, old world, at all, 
 the world we read of in the histories, the world where 
 nations have struggled into life, grown into strength, 
 declined and died, the world whose soil is pol- 
 luted with graves! It is as if it were a star, new- 
 created, a world new-born, clean and sweet, and 
 fresh and fair. 
 
 The air is exhilarating, intoxicating! The 
 blood, in full tide, pulses in my veins, so I can feel 
 its throbbing. The moments are over-charged with 
 joy, the pure joy of living! Aguilita feels it too. 
 She carries me at the swiftest of paces along ahead 
 
BEYOND THE SWELLING FLOOD 159 
 
 of the caravan, or in a wide sweep around it, up to 
 the hills on either side of the trail, and back again, 
 before anyone has had time to wonder where we are. 
 
 The pace of our oxen is the slowest in the world, 
 and I grow impatient lest the big company that was 
 waiting at the Council Grove should go on without 
 us. But Deacon Gentry said there was plenty of 
 time. 
 
 "I would as soon they got through their election 
 business before we appear on the scene. They 
 usually show common-sense, in choosing the offi- 
 cers of the caravan, but they make a great to-do 
 about it! There is more arguing and pulling for 
 votes, not to mention regular knock-down fights, 
 than in the election of a National Congressman! 
 I prefer not to be mixed up in their squabbles and 
 disputes!" 
 
 But we were mixed up in them, nevertheless, and 
 notwithstanding! Just before we reached Council 
 Grove, we stopped by Big-John Spring, to eat our 
 dinner a late dinner; and while we were there 
 a party of men rode up, to get acquainted, and, 
 incidentally, to solicit our votes! 
 
 Gallia est omnis divisa, in paries ires! They in- 
 formed us that the camp at the Grove was divided 
 into three factions, each with its own candidate for 
 the office of Captain. 
 
160 PILGRIMS OF THE PLAINS 
 
 The spokesman among our visitors, "Tom 
 Haines," was himself one of these candidates. He 
 had been treated shamefully, he said, though I 
 imagine, from his overbearing manner, that he may 
 have been more than a little to blame. He said he 
 had decided to withdraw, but that now, seeing they 
 had tried to murder him, he would not yield one 
 inch reinforcing his statement with a string of 
 profane oaths, which did not help his cause with 
 the Deacon! 
 
 His companions explained that some of his ene- 
 mies had buried a powder-flask under the cold ashes 
 of his camp-fire, and that when he stirred the coals 
 to cook his breakfast, there was an explosion that 
 scattered bacon and coffee and skillets all around! 
 He was unhurt, and this seemed to be a grievance, 
 that he had no mark or scar to show for the dastardly 
 trick that had been played upon him! 
 
 This man Haines knew Captain Harrod very 
 well, his acquaintanceship dating back to the time 
 when Captain Harrod lived in Santa Fe. All of 
 his remarks were addressed to this, the "silent 
 man" of our party. He explained at length his 
 own superior qualifications for the position he was 
 seeking, but Captain Harrod only looked over 
 his head, and answered him nothing. It is not 
 like the Deacon to express an opinion until he has 
 
BEYOND THE SWELLING FLOOD 161 
 
 heard both sides of a controversy, so our interviewers 
 and high-pleaders rode away, without any promise 
 of help from us. 
 
 They must have given a good report of us, never- 
 theless, for when we came to the Council Oak we 
 found a great crowd assembled there, with a proposi- 
 tion ready for our consideration. 
 
 The deadlock between the three would-be leaders 
 could not be broken, and seeing that no one of them 
 could be chosen as the Captain, they were ready 
 to accept the places of Lieutenants, if Captain 
 Harrod would accept the first place. They assured 
 us that every one would be satisfied with this 
 arrangement, but Captain Harrod brushed them 
 brusquely and rudely aside. "Our first duty is to 
 make camp," he told them. 
 
 We did not camp with them on the east side of 
 the river, but crossed to the west, and took our 
 wagons up, out of the low valley, on to the slope of 
 the rocky bluff, that here lies parallel with the river. 
 
 The sky was dark with clouds. The coming of a 
 storm was evident enough to anyone who had his 
 wits about him. Hiram, as he hurried here and there, 
 staking down the wagon covers, and double-fasten- 
 ing the huge chains that held the wagons together, 
 said: 
 
 "Them fools over there sure needs a Captain, for 
 
162 PILGRIMS OF THE PLAINS 
 
 to tell them to stop their talkin* and get to work. 
 Their stock is a-grazin 5 round loose, and they are 
 on the wrong side of the river, if there should be a 
 storm and if the river should go on the rampage like 
 they say it sometimes does!" 
 
 Their foolish inaction, I think, made Captain 
 Harrod anxious; and when a deputation came over 
 to our side to know his decision, he said: 
 
 "I doubt that I will be a Captain to your liking 
 but you have chosen me! There is no time for 
 formalities! You will take my orders at once! Go 
 and get your stock together, and rush the wagons 
 across the river." 
 
 They worked with a will, encouraged by the active 
 assistance of their Captain. Much can be done in a 
 little time, and in an hour more than half of them 
 were in the new camp, just a little south of ours. 
 Then a midnight blackness blotted out everything, 
 and the men could see to do no more. 
 
 The air suddenly grew still pulseless as Death, 
 and as cold. A flurry of big splashing raindrops! 
 A swishing watery sound in the air! The bitter 
 smell of wet dust! Then the cloud-roof opened and 
 the deluge came through! In our carriage we were 
 sheltered from the actual downpour, yet we could 
 hardly breathe the air was so thick with moisture ! 
 The thunder was a loud, deep, continuous roar, 
 
BEYOND THE SWELLING FLOOD 163 
 
 broken by dreadful explosive crashes, that seemed 
 to come simultaneously from the sky above us, the 
 air around us, and the earth beneath our feet. 
 
 In the carriage Anna had lighted one poor little 
 lantern, and in the dim light we saw each other's 
 faces, white with terror. Then smiles gradually 
 came to the surface, and the bonds that had held 
 us captive to fear fell away from us. I thought to 
 myself, "The Giants who are playing up there, 
 tumbling their thunder-clouds around, are noisy 
 enough, to be sure, but noise is not dangerous," 
 and our mood changed all in an instant, so that we 
 felt only a wild exhilaration and joy in the tumult of 
 the elements. 
 
 We held the curtains a little apart, that we might 
 gaze upon the sublime spectacle ! Though the clouds 
 were gathered thick above us, smothering us under 
 their dark and watery folds, yet by the pallid quiv- 
 ering sheet-lightning, which came and went with 
 every moment, we could discern the groups of white- 
 covered wagons, the rocks, the tossing writhing 
 branches of the nearer trees. There were inter- 
 vals of dreadful darkness, and then a sudden blind- 
 ing glare ! The clouds would be rent by fiery forked 
 lightning-bolts rocks and trees and clouds edged 
 with dazzling lines of flame! For an appreciable 
 moment the wide landscape, from hilltop to distant 
 
164 PILGRIMS OF THE PLAINS 
 
 hilltop, lay before us, plainly visible, bathed in a 
 wave of crimson light. It was a world strange and 
 awful, yet gloriously beautiful! 
 
 In one of the pauses in the storm, we saw two 
 figures making their way to the carriage. They 
 carried a basket between them, it was Himey 
 and Mr. Breunner, and in the basket was our 
 supper! We had had none, and were dying with 
 hunger only we had not thought of it till they 
 began to unpack the eatables. 
 
 "I ransacked the box of goodies that Anna's ma 
 put up, in case we should be sick," Hiram said. 
 "I says to myself, I don't know as I ever '11 feel any 
 sicker than I do right now, for a sight of good victuals, 
 
 and I reckon you're the same way inclined." 
 While Hiram's tongue was running on in this 
 
 fashion, his hands were not idle. He lighted two 
 more lanterns, and all the candles; he changed the 
 seats about to face each other; unhinged the toilet- 
 shelf for a table, and on it spread our rich repast 
 
 cold flap-jacks and corn-bread, and jerked beef, 
 and the goodies from "Anna's ma's box," jelly and 
 pear-preserves, and maple-sugar and raisins! And 
 there was a double handful of butternuts I haven't 
 the faintest idea where Himey got them and he 
 cracked them with one stone on another, and 
 cracked his knuckles at the same time. We ate and 
 
BEYOND THE SWELLING FLOOD 165 
 
 laughed, and laughed and ate! We held our tin 
 cups on the outside, and caught water to drink, 
 fresh from the clouds, spicy with the essence of 
 lightning, intoxicating as wine! 
 
 And Anna and I held the emptied dishes out and 
 let the ram wash them for us. Then we settled 
 ourselves with our work to spend a "quiet evening," 
 and the thunder rattled and growled, and the 
 livid lightning flashed its living bolts, and Anna 
 set her neat little stitches in her patchwork quilt, 
 and I, so that I should not seem given to idleness, 
 got out my tatting shuttle and made a pretense 
 of work. But the dampness knotted my thread so 
 I had not three inches of edging done at the end of 
 an hour, to show for my labor. 
 
 I was able to listen all the better to what Mr. 
 Breunner was telling, about other storms like this 
 that he had been exposed to, in the passes of the 
 Volscian Apennines, when he was on his way to 
 Rome four years ago. He went on down to Naples, 
 and then across to Pompeii, and was with the work- 
 men when they found two chests of gold and silver 
 and jewels, and he saw the real house that 
 Bulwer-Lytton describes in "The Last Days of 
 Pompeii" as the "house of Glaucus." He wrote 
 an account of his trip for the "Professoren of 
 Gottingen," illustrating it with sketches of the more 
 
166 PILGRIMS OF THE PLAINS 
 
 important scenes that he visited. The Baron 
 Eriedrich Ehrlich von Munsterberg was at that 
 time one of the University's professors, and that 
 is how it comes that he gave Ernst Breunner the 
 commission to go to Mexico. It is not at all 
 strange. 
 
 Hiram was whistling under his breath and whit- 
 tling on a "patent-model" an automatic wagon- 
 lifter. He is always figuring on some "patent 
 thing" when he has a moment of extra time. 
 
 "When I am in the Meetin'-house, of a Sunday, 
 and the preacher is poundin' the big Book, and I 
 am tryin' to foller the thread of the discourse, 
 right there and then I can figger out more vallyble 
 contrivances and contraptions than I could whittle 
 out in a month of Sundays. I don't reckon the 
 Lord lays it up agin me, for they just comes to me, 
 without my seekin' after them!" 
 
 And Hiram was exhibiting this latest product of 
 his genius when all of a sudden we came to a 
 realization that this must be Sunday, ten minutes 
 after midnight by John's watch ! We laid aside our 
 tasks, and the rain had ceased, and the stars were 
 shining. 
 
 Anna and I would not let Himey make down our 
 bed as usual. We simply wrapped ourselves in our 
 blankets and curled up on the seats and tried to get 
 
BEYOND THE SWELLING FLOOD 167 
 
 our sleep. But my dreams were troubled by the 
 roaring of old Vesuvius. The people of Pompeii 
 were shouting and crying and running to and fro, 
 trying to escape from their ruined city! And it 
 was not altogether a dream! There was a great 
 roaring, the roaring of a flood! And there was * 
 shouting and crying aloud, the men on the other 
 side of the stream were calling for help, and no one 
 could go to their aid! The river the Neosho 
 filled the valley from bluff to bluff, a swift-flowing, 
 ugly, muddy flood! We on the west bank were 
 safe, but what of the others on the low ground 
 over in the Grove? They had lashed their wagons 
 together, and anchored them fast to the big trees, 
 and now they were in water that came up almost to 
 the floor of the wagon-beds (with our spyglasses we 
 could see everything), and the men had climbed into 
 the trees, and were perched on the limbs like birds. 
 They must have been wretchedly uncomfortable, 
 but they were laughing and making the best of it * 
 as they could very well afford to do, no one having 
 been washed away by the flood, nor even injured. 
 
 Before we were through with our breakfast the 
 river was within its banks again, and at eleven 
 the men were swimming their horses across. By 
 the middle of the afternoon the wagons were all 
 over on our side, but some of the drivers were care- 
 
168 PILGRIMS OF THE PLAINS 
 
 less and got into deep water, so their loads of goods 
 were thoroughly soaked, and every bale had to be 
 unsewed and every bolt unrolled, and spread out to 
 dry. The open prairie and the bushes were draped 
 with rainbow-hued dry-goods pink and purple, 
 and green and scarlet and blue. The men did not 
 enjoy the pretty sight, for it meant a lot of extra 
 work for them. 
 
 There was so much to do no one thought of getting 
 dinner till late in the afternoon. Then John and I 
 mounted our ponies John had not been allowed 
 to ride before this time, and we went down around 
 the strangers' camp, and then down to the ford to 
 watch the crossing of six new wagons that had just 
 made their appearance from along the trail to the 
 east. 
 
 And in the front wagon was Uncle Pliny our 
 Uncle Pliny! I was off my pony and answering to 
 his "Wall, howdy, Miss Deya !" before one could 
 say "Jack Robinson!" He looked around with a 
 keen glance that took in everything that had 
 happened. 
 
 "It looks like you might have had a right smart 
 sprinkle of rain here last night. We heerd the 
 thunder, an' seen the lightnin', but they wa'n't 
 enough rain fell to lay the dust. Lucky for me! 
 I'm that short-handed I don't know what I'd a done 
 
BEYOND THE SWELLING FLOOD 169 
 
 in a storm! I thought I wan't never goin' to ketch 
 up with you-alls. Dag-gone that Danny Driscoll 
 an' his crowd! They took the notion that they 
 wanted to do a little huntin' on their own hook, 
 before ever they jined with the caravan for good, 
 and they borryed two of my best men, Downing an* 
 Terwilliger, for to go with them as guides. They 
 went up around by the Kansas an' '11 swing round 
 to meet up with us somewheres nigh the Cotton- 
 wood Creek." 
 
 Uncle Pliny had to stop, to mop the sweat from 
 his face, and to divest himself of his "weskit." 
 
 "That there Danny 's a reg'lar chip off the old 
 block! Jest like his dad old Van Amburgh Dris- 
 coll. He's the beatin'est for always gettin' what 
 he goes after, in politics, an' ever 'thin' else. He's 
 got that way with him, that you can't say him no. 
 An' them boys soft-soaped me into thinkin' I was as 
 young as I used to was, an' that I could do the work 
 of two or three men, a-taking care of their wagons as 
 well as my own!" 
 
 The sun was shining down with an unusual fierce- 
 ness; there was no breath of air stirring in the 
 valley. The high hill invited us. By devious ways, 
 in straggling groups, we climbed to its summit, and 
 there we found an almost level plain stretching 
 away to the western horizon. Only on its eastern 
 
170 PILGRIMS OF THE PLAINS 
 
 face was the hill abrupt and rocky. Anna drew me 
 down beside her on a thronelike jutting mass of 
 stone, and we looked across the valley to the hills 
 east of the river all so richly clothed with the 
 soft greens of June, now brightened by the baptism 
 of the rain. A last vanishing beam from the low 
 setting sun lay upon the western plain: it spanned 
 the: shadowy valley, and lighted the distant hills 
 with a more than earthly glory. 
 
 And Anna was singing and I with her, and 
 we did not know that any one heard us, till 
 Joe-Lu's violin took up the heavenly strain 
 
 "Sweet fields beyond the swelling flood, 
 
 Stand dressed in living green. 
 
 So to the Jews old Canaan stood, 
 
 While Jordan rolled between. 
 
 I had not thought the men would know or care 
 for such music. I had not thought that Joe-Lu 
 could play it. But he knows all of our dear church 
 hymns "There is a Fountain," "O, could I speak 
 the matchless worth," "Jerusalem the Golden," 
 "I'm a pilgrim," and "I'm a stranger." The violin 
 notes, thrilling, strong, upsoaring, inspired and led 
 us. The men's voices rose in a great splendid 
 unison, and their hearts were brought into unison. 
 The Sabbath look was upon their faces a gentler, 
 kindlier look. They seemed, indeed, like different 
 
BEYOND THE SWELLING FLOOD 171 
 
 men as they sat there quietly talking, plucking the 
 grasses, idly tossing the pebbles in their hands. 
 
 As darkness fell they went down into the valley; 
 but our wagons were brought up and our camp for 
 the night was made at the edge of the cliff, so that 
 John should not breathe the miasma of the flood- 
 drenched lowlands. 
 
 The air was ineffably pure and sweet. The velvet- 
 fingered breeze tossed our hair, and touched our 
 cheeks as if in friendly playfulness. There was just 
 a faint edge of a moon low down in the southwest, 
 and then it slipped away, and left us only the light 
 of the stars. 
 
 Jupiter was almost overhead, shining with a light 
 bright as moonlight. Our shadows showed dis- 
 tinctly on the white rocks where we were standing. 
 As I looked at the brilliant star, I thought I could 
 discern two tiny, tiny sparkles that might be two of 
 its satellites, and so it proved. Mr. Breunner 
 brought out his telescope, and sure enough there 
 they were two of Jupiter's little moons ! So it 
 was really moonlight that we were enjoying. 
 
 Hiram has a very practical knowledge of the posi- 
 tions of the heavenly bodies, at the different hours of 
 the night, and for the different months of the year, 
 a knowledge passed on down to him from his "grand- 
 pappy," who was a "shepherd-man" in England. 
 
172 PILGRIMS OF THE PLAINS 
 
 Hiram reads the time of night from the Great 
 Dipper as it circles about the North Star; and he 
 needs no almanac to tell him the month, while the 
 constellations of the Zodiac swing in their greater 
 circle in the sky. And he was the one who was 
 most eager of all to learn the names, and to study 
 the peculiarities of new star-groups, as they were 
 revealed by the telescope, the Milky- way, the 
 Pleiades, the double-double star of Lyra, and 
 Saturn's rainbow circlet, and the red star, Mars, 
 and the distant Neptune. 
 
 Such nights are never to be forgotten! 
 
 We were startled by the shrill call of the bugles 
 " Taps ! " the signal for retiring. The men gave 
 heed to the summons, but Anna and I were not yet 
 ready to leave a scene so beautiful. This spot, so 
 it seemed, was the very edge of the world, for the 
 night-mists had settled heavy over all the valley, 
 and before us was only the pale shimmering surface 
 of a mysterious sea, that stretched away to the low 
 horizon stars. 
 
 Anna's arm was around me, and as she drew me 
 close to her I felt her heart beating, in strange, 
 uneven throbs. I felt a tear, not my own, upon my 
 cheek! I spoke her name. She rose and brushed 
 her hand across her eyes. 
 
 "You will try to make me believe that I am 
 
BEYOND THE SWELLING FLOOD 173 
 
 crying," she said, "but I am not. I am the happiest 
 girl in the world! Only I was thinking of my 
 mother so far away. If we had only a little 
 birch-bark canoe, Deya, we could launch it upon 
 this wide sea, and the west wind would blow us home, 
 back where mother is!" 
 
 I laughed at the fancy, and told her that the only 
 voyage that we were likely to take to-night would 
 be the voyage to dreamland. "And we will not get 
 far into dreamland, if we do not hurry to bed!" 
 
 But Anna is not to be hurried! It takes her an 
 hour to make her bedtime toilet! Her mother 
 brought her up that way, and she would not think 
 she could close her eyes, if everything were not done 
 just so. 
 
 I scrub my face, and twist my hair up in any kind 
 of a knot, slip into my double-gown, tie on my 
 night-cap "all with a whew," as sister Martha 
 would say, and I am ready to jump into bed! 
 But with Anna it is like getting ready for a party. 
 So much brushing of her hair so much washing, 
 and I do not know what all, and then she lays 
 herself down, with her lovely locks laid out smoothly 
 around her on the pillow, and her beautiful hands 
 sweetly crossed upon her breast, not to stir till 
 morning comes. She seems an aureolaed saint 
 but even saints may get fretful, I suppose, if they 
 
174 PILGRIMS OF THE PLAINS 
 
 are kept awake by owlish scribblers! I must close 
 my book, so Anna can close her sleepy eyes. 
 
 We are not to leave Council Grove till to-morrow 
 morning. The dry-goods are not yet dry enough 
 to be rolled up and packed away in the wagons. 
 The newly-elected Lieutenants are familiarizing 
 themselves with their duties, and getting their 
 divisions into shape. Will Aljoe has the first di- 
 vision, Enos Quackenbos quite a dashing cavalier 
 has the second, Tom Haines has the third, which 
 is our division, and Stoneman has the fourth. 
 
 When we get as far as Pawnee Rock, where the 
 danger from Indians is supposed to be greater, the 
 caravan will travel in four lines, four abreast, each 
 line headed by its Lieutenant; but until that time 
 the train will string out in two long lines. 
 
 Each wagon has its own number and place in the 
 procession, and the teamsters are drilled so they 
 will know just what to do at the different calls of 
 the bugle to swing out, to draw together, to 
 advance by twos and fours, to form in double 
 circles, etc. 
 
 From our place on the crest of the hill we watched 
 the maneuvers, and all that was going on in the 
 busy camps below. It seems that no place could 
 be lovelier than this, with its curving lines of hills, 
 
BEYOND THE SWELLING FLOOD 175 
 
 the broad valley between, the winding river whose 
 course is marked for miles by the wide belt of oak 
 and elm and walnut trees such a grove as we have 
 not seen since we left the Missouri river, and whose 
 like we will not see again in all the course of our 
 long journey. The bluff itself is most picturesque. 
 It rises a hundred feet above the plain, and is 
 crowned by a ledge of rock, moulded in fantastic 
 forms. There are ragged boulders that have sepa- 
 rated themselves from the main ledge; there are 
 caves and grottoes, and mountain gorges, all in 
 miniature; and everywhere the surface of the stone 
 is pitted and marked with veins and crannies and 
 crevices where hardy little ferns are growing. I 
 have some of these pressed in the letter that I have 
 written to send home. 
 
 Enos Quackenbos tells me that almost any day 
 now we may meet a detachment of Uncle Sam's 
 soldiers riding eastward, returning from their patrol 
 of the trail; so, if we have our letters ready, they 
 will take them back to Fort Leavenworth, from 
 which point there is regular mail-service. 
 
 John and Mr. Breunner and I are planning to 
 ride over to an old Indian Butte a high pile of 
 stones on one of the hills to the south of camp. 
 Uncle Pliny has aroused our curiosity in regard to 
 it. He says it is a monument to a Spanish mission- 
 
176 PILGRIMS OF THE PLAINS 
 
 ary who was treacherously murdered here so long 
 ago that his name is no more remembered, even 
 among * the Indians who received his ministrations. 
 "I was up at that Old Butte in '32, an' they was 
 marks on the stones that the medicine men pre- 
 tended they understood. Whether they did or no 
 is another thing, but I doubt you'd find them now, 
 fur the monyment's been tore down an' built up 
 again twicet or thrice, since that time curiosity 
 hunters, I reckon, looking for what they could 
 find." 
 
CHAPTER XVIII 
 WHERE FLOWERS GROW THICKEST 
 
 WE went to the Butte as we had planned 
 only Lieutenant Quackenbos seemed to 
 think it necessary to accompany us. I 
 thought I was going to like him, but I don't. He is 
 handsome, and knows it too well; is "keen as a 
 briar," to use Uncle Pliny's phrase, but he knows 
 that too well also. He has held several petty 
 offices down in Paducah, and that makes him think 
 he could run the National Government! For all 
 of his dashing debonair ways, and his constant smile, 
 I do not think he is either good-natured or good- 
 hearted. He speaks unkindly of everyone. He 
 does not "think much" of any of his associates in 
 office. Stoneman is too slow; Aljoe is ignorant; 
 Haines is dictatorial; and Captain Harrod is too 
 cold and silent and severe. 
 
 "I have crossed the plains twice before this time, 
 and I never saw the men held in like this! Guards, 
 same as if it was a regular military company, 
 
178 PILGRIMS OF THE PLAINS 
 
 and special patrols, and no going out of camp 
 without the Captain's permission! The men will 
 not stand for it, being curbed so tight, special 
 when there is no need of it!" 
 
 We were riding ahead of the others, and I pulled 
 up my pony and told him, flat, that our lives were 
 far safer in Captain Harrod's hands than in the 
 hands of an "easier" man. I told him we ought to 
 be thankful that the captaincy had not fallen to 
 such a one, thankful that we had a "hard, sharp 
 man" to look after our welfare, so we might sleep 
 in peace, in the midst of dangers. And then I 
 waited for John, and rode the rest of the way with 
 him. 
 
 The Butte hill was a high rounded knoll, that 
 overlooked a wide stretch of country, but the 
 Butte itself was disappointingly insignificant. It 
 was only a loose pile of stones carelessly heaped 
 together, and we were about to go, without looking 
 for the stone with the mark upon it, of which Uncle 
 Pliny had spoken, when John stooped and picked 
 up something that may have a real historical value. 
 It was a thin slip of tarnished silver, attached to a 
 scrap of leather; and it had a name engraved upon 
 it in old Latin letters the name "Padilla." I 
 somehow feel sure that this was part of the cover 
 of an old prayer-book, and that the name is that of 
 
FLOWERS GROW THICKEST 179 
 
 the Spanish missionary who is said to have perished 
 here. 
 
 Lieutenant Quackenbos took it upon himself to 
 pierce the piece of silver, and to thread it upon his 
 watch-guard, for me to wear around my neck. 
 "There is nothing so lucky to keep about you as a 
 piece of silver that has been lost and found again 
 the older it is the better." And he showed me a 
 battered ancient silver coin that he always carries 
 in his pocket. I do not believe in such a "lucky- 
 piece," but I am wearing mine, nevertheless. 
 
 Danny Driscoll and his friends have arrived in 
 camp. We found them waiting for us at Diamond 
 Springs, yesterday. Enos Quackenbos does not 
 like Danny and the rest of them. So very strange! 
 He says they are "foolish rattle-pates." As a 
 matter of fact, while they are lively and gay, they 
 are a sensible lot of boys, well-born and well-bred. 
 
 Bert Fones is of the Alden Mayflower stock, and 
 his father is one of the richest men in Missouri, since 
 he associated himself in business with the Scarritts 
 of St. Louis. Farrell Montgomery was the "class- 
 poet" at Missouri University last year, and he is a 
 cousin of Danny's. Of course Danny is the leader 
 among them, he could not be anything else, seeing 
 that he is old Van Amburgh Driscoll's son Van 
 Amburgh Driscoll, the most popular and influential 
 
180 PILGRIMS OF THE PLAINS 
 
 of Missouri's representatives in the National Con- 
 gress. These three, and Twank Thomas, are 
 inseparable; and when Twank's father decided to 
 send him to Santa Fe to get acquainted with his 
 half-Spanish cousins, it was a foregone conclusion 
 that the others would have to go also. They are 
 looking forward to three months of solid pleasure. 
 Their hunting-trip was a great success, and Danny 
 has brought with him the antlers to prove that he 
 killed two splendid buck-deer. 
 
 "Das make me mad! For w'y dat John not get 
 to fin' no deer lak dat? I see elk-sign dis mornin', 
 an' if John kill one elk, dat be more better dan two 
 buck-deer." 
 
 So Franchy exclaimed; and he promptly ar- 
 ranged that a little expedition of picked hunters 
 should go out, and John with them. I do not know 
 how they managed it that John got the chance to 
 kill his elk, but it happened, somehow. And 
 Franchy was prouder for John than he would have 
 been for himself. 
 
 "Dat boy only see de nose of de big feller, an' 'e 
 lif ' 'is rifle up, slow an' steady, lak 'e been shoot de 
 big game for t'irty year! Yaas, you may believe 
 me! An' de gun speak sharp, an' short, Bang! De 
 bullet go straight to de heart! 'E joomp, one time, 
 an' drap in 'is track dead, an' never keek again! 
 
FLOWERS GROW THICKEST 181 
 
 I show you 'im, an' you say dat boy make one fine 
 firs'-class shot!" 
 
 When Auguste and Franchy were bringing in the 
 big animal, in crossing a log over the creek Franchy 
 slipped and went, souse! into the water, so his buck- 
 skins were wet through and through. Rob per- 
 suaded him that he ought to borrow somebody 
 else's pantaloons and let his dry and Rob and 
 John promised to see to the drying! A pretty trick 
 they did with those trousers! 
 
 Buckskin has the charming quality of retaining, 
 after it is dry, whatever shape it is pulled into when 
 it is wet, and Rob and John pulled and stretched 
 those articles all out of shape each leg as wide as 
 a Highlander's petticoat, and as short! They are 
 going to put them where Franchy will be sure to 
 lay his hands on them the first thing in the morning, 
 and then they will call him, and have a crowd there 
 to see him come out in his fancy costume! They 
 are doubling themselves up in spasms of unholy 
 glee thinking of the ridiculous figure he will cut, 
 and that is my dear brother's way of expressing his 
 gratitude after Franchy's getting that elk for him! 
 
 Buckskin 's the only wear. All who do not possess 
 buckskin suits are having them made, - that is, 
 Danny, and his crowd, and John and Deya. Uncle 
 Pliny looked. through the different packs of skins 
 
182 PILGRIMS OF THE PLAINS 
 
 that were offered us, and found some that were 
 dressed to a beautiful soft white finish, that he said 
 would do for a suit for me, and he has been giving 
 me lessons in the making of it. It is to be "genuine 
 Indian," exactly according to the pattern of a 
 Cheyenne Indian maiden's outfit. I am sewing it 
 with sinew thread, and I suppose I should be 
 thankful that Uncle Pliny does not insist on my 
 using bone needles! There is a neat little pattern 
 of bead embroidery around the slashed neck and 
 sleeves. It was Uncle Pliny who showed me how 
 to do it, and then when I had it most done he looked 
 at it and laughed and chuckled, and wiped his eyes, 
 and laughed again. And when I asked him what 
 there was so funny about it, he said: 
 
 "It ain't the work. You're a-doin' of it all 
 right! But I jest happened to think about the 
 meanin' of that thar pattren! Yes, sure! They's 
 a meanin' to eyer' pattren a squaw makes, whether 
 it's beadin' or basket-weavin', or blankets or what 
 not. An' the Injuns everywhar understands it, 
 same as they all understand the sign-language. 
 But, honest-to-goodness, I never thought 'bout the 
 meanin' to this one, till this identical minute, 
 if ye must know, it means 'Young squaw roamin 5 
 acrost the earth lookin' for a tent an' a husband!' 
 Honest-to-goodness! When I was a-stayin' with 
 
FLOWERS GROW THICKEST 183 
 
 the Cheyennes, that time they had me prisoner, I 
 seen 'em workin' it on the jacket for one of the 
 young gals. An' 'twa'n't looked upon as no dis- 
 credit to her. It's nateral enough." 
 
 If John had heard this I would never have heard 
 the last of it, but I could afford to laugh with Uncle 
 Pliny. I told him I thought it a very nice pattern 
 indeed, and so appropriate! I do not believe a 
 word of what he said about the meaning of it, though 
 it was all true enough about his having been a 
 prisoner with the Cheyennes. He and three others 
 were kept in captivity for weeks, and sometimes 
 they were treated well, and sometimes they were 
 "given a taste of the torture." The regular troops 
 came upon the camp and rescued them, but one 
 poor fellow, young and bold and desperate, had 
 made a dash for liberty, and had been followed and 
 murdered and scalped! Such things do happen, 
 even though the plains are more or less regularly 
 patrolled by our troops. 
 
 They say that every heap of stones beside the 
 trail covers the grave of a white man, and I had 
 only thought of them as the places where grew most 
 abundantly roses and primroses, and the sensitive- 
 brier ! This last the sensitive-brier is the most 
 interesting plant that grows on the prairie. Its 
 blossoms arc soft clustered balls of rose-red stamens, 
 
184 PILGRIMS OF THE PLAINS 
 
 powdered over with grains of golden pollen. The 
 petals are "inconspicuous or wanting." But it is not 
 the blossom that makes the plant remarkable. It 
 is sensitive, as living creatures are sensitive to 
 light, sensitive to touch. When the world is dark, 
 it shuts its eyes and sleeps. Its leaflets fold together, 
 palm to palm, as little hands are folded in prayer. 
 The leaf -stem droops heavily against the stalk, as 
 heavy eyelids droop and close. When the daylight 
 comes again, it wakens, unclasps its hands, and 
 lifts up its arms to the sky. But always it is timid 
 and afraid. Its leaves shiver and close at the 
 slightest touch at the brushing of the meadow- 
 lark's wing, even at the trembling of the ground 
 under our horses' feet, as if it feared that we would 
 ruthlessly trample it to earth. 
 
CHAPTER XIX 
 
 "DE WOLF AN 9 DE COYOTE, DEY NOT 
 WAIT" 
 
 FRANCHY is still wearing borrowed clothes, 
 while Rob is laboring over those buckskin trou- 
 sers, to bring them back into proper shape. 
 The trick did not turn out quite as Rob had planned. 
 Franchy good-naturedly took another man's turn 
 at guard duty, in the middle of the night, and if he 
 tried to put the trousers on or not, no one was the 
 wiser, for somehow in the morning they came to be 
 by Rob's side, and his trousers were gone and 
 Franchy was there, and it was his time to laugh! 
 
 "Dat was sure fonny sight! 'E so beeg, an' dem 
 so short! Dat was de mos' re-dic-u-lous ! 'E be 
 not so smart, anodder time, I t'ink!" 
 
 The boys have been complaining of the dullness 
 of camp life. 
 
 "No Indians! No buffalo! No nothing but 
 prairie-dogs to make the landscape lively, and 
 antelope so tame they almost come when you 
 whistle!" 
 
186 PILGRIMS OF THE PLAINS 
 
 They had been telling us every day that we would 
 be sure to meet someone going east, soldiers or 
 travelers or trappers, but it was not until to-day 
 that the expected happened. A shabby procession 
 of a dozen sun-dried rickety wagons drawn by 
 shabby skinny oxen appeared around the turn of a 
 hill. They swerved aside to the north, apparently 
 not intending to stop, even for an exchange of 
 civilities. Danny and Hiram and some of the others 
 rode out to intercept them, as we did not wish to 
 lose this chance to send our letters back to the 
 States, "and when they saw there was money in the 
 job they began to show themselves more friendly 
 and communicative," Danny said. "They told us 
 they had wintered out by Bent's Fort, trying to do 
 a little trading with the Indians of that section, 
 but they said the Government was against them; 
 they had no protection, and the Indians were so 
 uncertain, and seemed so inclined to do them harm, 
 they had packed up what was left of their outfit, 
 and now they are going back to Kentucky, to stay 
 there. They had one bit of good news for us. They 
 say we will find scattered herds of buffalo all the way 
 from Big Cow Creek to the Caches!" 
 
 A caravan always expects to procure on the plains 
 sufficient buffalo meat to give variety to its bill- 
 of-fare. There is nothing that stays sweet and 
 
DE WOLF AN' DE COYOTE 187 
 
 eatable longer than well-cured "buffalo-jerk." When 
 we get down into the desert country we will need it, 
 though now we are living on the fat of the land. 
 Every day we are served with the choicest of game 
 venison and antelope steaks, and fowl of every 
 description, cranes and ducks and turkey, all we 
 care for. ] 
 
 The fowls are cooked Indian fashion, with the 
 head and legs and feathers left on. They are care- 
 fully drawn, and stuffed with bread-crumbs and 
 bacon and savory herbs, and then the bird is thickly 
 plastered over with mud just plain mud and 
 deposited in a "hot-pit" and covered over with 
 ashes and coals and earth. In the morning the mud 
 is baked to a hard crust, like brick, and when that 
 is cracked and peeled off, the skin and feathers come 
 with it, leaving only the juicy and tender flesh. It 
 is cookery in perfection. 
 
 Anna is quite reconciled to our having a man 
 cook. At first she did not like the idea of having a 
 man's hands in the biscuit dough, if she had to eat 
 the biscuits; but she is satisfied that Mr. Williams 
 is as neat and particular, in regard to his duties as 
 cook, as she herself would be. He takes an interest 
 in his work, and likes to show us how he keeps his 
 pots and pans shining, and no one could be more 
 accommodating than he. 
 
188 PILGRIMS OF THE PLAINS 
 
 To-night he made a kettle of molasses taffy, and 
 we made a childish frolic of the occasion, inviting 
 Danny and Farrell and Twank and Burt Fones 
 over to help pull the candy, and eat it. 
 
 There was a smooth bit of ground there, covered 
 with a thin fine mat of buffalo grass, slippery to the 
 foot as a waxed floor, and the boys suggested that we 
 might have a dance. Anna and I agreed with them, 
 and said it would be lovely, if only there were two 
 more ladies, to make a set complete. It was non- 
 sense, forgotten as soon as said! But fifteen min- 
 utes afterward two charming and coquettish maidens 
 blushingly greeted the company with two sweeping 
 and graceful curtsys! 
 
 Burt Fones and Farrell Montgomery had gone 
 to their wagons, and borrowed from their stock of 
 goods some of the finery that had been destined for 
 the senoritas of Santa Fe. They were arrayed in 
 full flowing skirts, and mantillas and curls! 
 They were real Spanish maidens, and could speak 
 only Spanish, and we were obliged to frame our 
 replies in that same tongue! 
 
 Danny, with his tile under his arm, took pretty 
 Farrell as his partner, and they gravely began the 
 steps of the minuet; but in the middle of the 
 stately dance Joe-Lu at a sign from Danny, I 
 suspect dashed into the gay strains of "The 
 
DE WOLF AN' DE COYOTE 189 
 
 Ladies' Delight," and Danny cried out, "Choose 
 ladies for the Reel!" and seized me, and swung me 
 into position at the head of the set. Ernst Breun- 
 ner chose black-eyed languishing Farrell, and John 
 took Burt Fones, the sweet girl in the pink petti- 
 coats, and Hiram and Anna made up the set. 
 
 The fine soft mat of the buffalo grass was under 
 our springing feet; the crescent moon was swinging 
 overhead; the music thrilled in our hearts; its full 
 current swept us off our feet, and dance we must 
 whether or no, even as the leaves on a bough must 
 dance when the strong winds blow! "Lady Howe's 
 Fancy," "Sir Roger de Coverly," "Virginia Reel"- 
 the music came quicker and faster, till we were 
 breathless. It was an all- too-lively performance. 
 Anna's blue eyes were shining like stars, and her 
 cheeks were like twin roses. When John and pretty 
 Burt were "coming down the middle," Anna and I 
 joined hands and danced out of the set, and left 
 the boys to finish it as they could and the bugle 
 sounded "Taps!" 
 
 Toward midnight I heard men shouting to each 
 other in tones that made me thrill with fear, and 
 Hob ran by and called to us the dreadful news. 
 Leonard Morris had been murdered! Lieutenant 
 Quackenbos, with three of his men, was making the 
 
190 PILGRIMS OF THE PLAINS 
 
 patrol of his section of the camp, when it was pro- 
 posed that they should ride out to the hill on the 
 north. Four left the camp, and only three of them 
 returned. When they missed Leonard Morris they 
 thought he was lagging behind, and they waited and 
 called him, and then his horse galloped by, riderless, 
 with blood on the saddle, and in the horse's neck 
 an Indian war-arrow. 
 
 Indians about to attack the caravan! That was 
 the word that was passed about among the men, and 
 they began to look to their arms and defenses, 
 though the Captain and Franz Bach were both 
 agreed that this could not be the act of a war-party. 
 Warriors planning to attack the camp would give no 
 such plain warning of their presence. It was more 
 likely the work of a solitary Indian runner who had 
 unexpectedly found himself in a position where he 
 could wreak vengeance on a hated paleface. 
 
 It seemed a hopeless task to try to find the body, 
 and a most dangerous one, as well. No one was 
 willing to volunteer for the duty, until Joe-Lu pushed 
 his way to the front. 
 
 "Wat dis you say? Wait till daylight, eh? De 
 wolf an' de coyote, dey not wait! An' maybe dat 
 boy no daid. Wat den? I go myself! My dog, 
 'e go wid me! Banff, 'e follow dat blood-trail!" 
 
 He was not to be dissuaded, though Franchy 
 
DE WOLF A N'DE COYOTE 191 
 
 begged and implored; but he saw that this was 
 useless. 
 
 "Wat I say is not'ing! 'E go, jus' de same, for 
 all I say! 'E always lak dat. Eef dere be one in 
 danger dat Joe-Lu boun' to go! Save my life dat- 
 a-way two time. Yaas ! An tree four odder man ! 
 'E dat rackless, cain't do not'ing wid 'im, 'ceptin' 
 to let 'imgo!" 
 
 Joe-Lu was not heeding. Just as soon as he had 
 the Captain's permission he dropped down into the 
 tall grass, Banff by his side, and disappeared. 
 
 The men listened and waited, fancied they 
 heard a cry for help, told each other in whispers 
 that it was but the cry of a wolf, waited, and 
 grew white with apprehension. 
 
 The moon came out from behind a cloud, and 
 they saw Joe-Lu returning, bending under the 
 weight of the body which he carried across his 
 shoulders as a hunter carries a deer. 
 
 The caravan is not to be delayed. We will leave 
 this place to-morrow morning, only a little later 
 than usual. 
 
 There will be another heap of stones by the way- 
 side a heap of stones where wild roses will grow 
 and bloom! 
 
CHAPTER XX 
 A DROP TO KEEP OUT THE COLD i 
 
 SINCE we came out on the plains we do not 
 hear Joe-Lu's violin as often as we did. 
 While we were on the river he played every 
 night, so that our dreams were but vagaries set 
 to music. 
 
 All of the negro boy's thoughts and affections 
 seem to be centered upon the old gray wolf-dog, 
 Banff, whom he found two weeks ago by the side of 
 the trail dying, as he thought, of a gunshot 
 wound. It looked to be one of the big gray timber- 
 wolves, but when he went up to it, to shoot it, so 
 that it should not linger and suffer, it turned its 
 head to him and tried to lick his hand. Whether 
 it was wolf or wolf-dog, it had somewhere learned * 
 that human beings could be kind, and Joe-Lu 
 lifted the poor creature in his arms and brought it 
 back to camp, and nursed and fed it; and now it 
 follows him everywhere, "lak an oF house-dog," 
 as Franchy says. 
 
 "Joe-Lu nevair take lak dat to no common oF 
 dog. It is jus' dat dis is a wolf a sure 'nough 
 
KEEP OUT THE COLD 193 
 
 wolf! An' 'e let Joe-Lu do ever't'ing wid 'im, an* 
 not let no odder man touch 'im. Me, I not get too 
 near 'im! An' de men, dey would lak to make 
 frien's wid 'im, sence las' night, w'en 'e an' Joe-Lu 
 bring in dat Leonard boy. But 'e not make frien's! 
 'E show dat 'e be wolf! 'E show dem w'ite fangs, 
 an' roll 'is red eyes! Dey keep away from dat 
 Banff! An' Joe-Lu lak it dat no one make too 
 familiar wid 'is dog." 
 
 But Joe-Lu has taught him that Anna and I may 
 lay our hands upon his head if we choose, yet we 
 do not often avail ourselves of the privilege. They 
 are saying in the camp that the dog Banff is worth 
 more to the caravan than any dozen men who could 
 be picked the best guard that we could possi- 
 bly have. If it had not been for him Leonard 
 Morris's body would not have received Christian 
 burial. Poor Leonard! His life sacrificed so need- 
 lessly! The whole blame is upon the shoulders of 
 Lieutenant Quackenbos. He is repenting his fool- 
 hardiness, and his disregard of the rules of the 
 camp, repenting in sackcloth and ashes; but that 
 will not bring young Morris back! The people of 
 the camp have turned against him as if he had pur- 
 posely led his friends into danger. He understands 
 the feeling among them, and at once resigned his 
 position as Lieutenant. 
 
194 PILGRIMS OF THE PLAINS 
 
 It was supposed that Franz Bach would be elected 
 to fill his place. But elections are not certainties 
 until votes are counted. Half in mischief, not 
 thinking that they would take him at his word, 
 Burt Fones slyly insinuated here and there that it 
 would not be a bad thing to put in a vote for old 
 Van Amburgh Driscoll's son, Danny! And each 
 one smiled to himself and said, "Why not?" and the 
 word was passed along. The men are many of 
 them from Missouri, and in Missouri "Driscoll" 
 is a name to conjure with. So Burt Fones discov- 
 ered to his surprise, and so it was that Danny was 
 elected Lieutenant of "the 2nd." 
 
 "He's his daddy's son all right, a chip off the 
 old block, and he'll run this here Division good 
 as any of 'em. It will tickle his old man most to 
 death to know we done the boy the honor." 
 
 So the men said; and Danny is justifying the 
 predictions in his favor. He accepted the position 
 gracefully, and then he told them that "the 2nd" 
 was to be bossed by no single Dictator, but by the 
 boss Triumvirate, himself, and Franz Bach, and 
 Uncle Pliny Thompson. 
 
 "Them three makes a strong team," Hiram said. 
 "Danny's got the git-up-and-git, and the other two 
 will keep him on the right track. The other divisions 
 will have to hump themselves if they keep up." 
 
KEEP OUT THE COLD 195 
 
 Hiram's words had a quick fulfilment. This 
 afternoon, when the "Norther" struck us, Danny's 
 section was the first one in place, and his Division 
 suffered less than any other. Haines was too 
 excitable to give the proper orders; Stoneman was 
 too deliberate and slow; Lieutenant Aljoe was 
 "all at sea"; and only "the 2nd" was prepared for 
 the storm when it fell upon the camp. The wind 
 was nothing less than a hurricane, and with it came 
 a phenomenally sudden drop in the temperature, 
 from above ninety degrees, down to forty-three, 
 and all within an hour. 
 
 There is something terrifying appalling in a 
 change so great, and so sudden, as this. It be- 
 numbs the faculties and paralyzes the body. Anna 
 and I could have done something to have made 
 things in the carriage more secure, and ourselves 
 more comfortable, but we did not think of trying 
 to help ourselves. We sat, huddled together, shak- 
 ing and shivering, doing nothing at all, waiting 
 for something to happen. And happen it did! 
 
 There was an all-pervading hungry roar as if 
 a thousand lions were voicing their impatience to 
 devour us! I whimpered, with my head against 
 Anna's breast. "It's worse than Jack's Giants 
 after us! We will be broken to bits, and our bones 
 ground up, and scattered over the prairie!" 
 
196 PILGRIMS OF THE PLAINS 
 
 We were in mortal terror. There were shrieking, 
 grinding noises everywhere about us, wheels 
 grinding on wheels, chains clattering and grinding 
 on each other, bolts twisting and grinding in their 
 sockets. 
 
 There was a tearing, rending sound, a crash ! 
 The top of the carriage was gone from over our 
 heads! The wind caught it and whirled it upwards. 
 Like a great awkward ungainly bird it swooped and 
 turned and flapped its black wings, and, mount- 
 ing higher and higher, it disappeared in a thick 
 cloud. The carriage under us gave an upward leap, 
 as if it would follow. We were, ourselves, in the 
 air, and the ground was heaving beneath us, and 
 the earth rose and beat against us. But it was some- 
 thing solid to cling to, and we embraced it fervently, 
 and dug our fingers into the matted grass of the 
 sod, and we lay there, hazily thankful that we 
 were not riding on the wings of the storm, thankful 
 that we were still alive. I did not think about 
 John, or anyone, till Hiram came and found us. 
 He took his "big girl" in his arms and carried her 
 to his wagon, and I stumbled along after them, 
 holding on to his jacket, and the wind buffeted us 
 so that we could only go forward by loops and 
 zigzags and twice we fell. 
 
 We were in Hiram's wagon, in a nest made in 
 
KEEP OUT THE COLD 197 
 
 the high-piled bales of goods, and we drew a soft 
 robe over us, and, though it was early afternoon, 
 we slept ! Nestled under the warm cover, our frozen 
 blood again began to flow freely in our veins and 
 with the warmth there came courage to our hearts, 
 so we were no more afraid of the fierce wind. 
 
 When we awoke we heard the strangest noises 
 outside. We raised the back curtain and saw the 
 cook-wagon performing wild antics, leaping and 
 straining at the chains that bound it. The cup- 
 board doors at the back were swinging and banging, 
 and the tin dishes were all abroad pans and 
 plates and spoons rattling about us like hail! Mr. 
 Williams, the cook, was there dancing up and down 
 crazy-drunk! He had "taken a drop to keep 
 out the cold" and the drop had become a fiery 
 stream flowing down his throat. He did not in the 
 least know what he was doing, and he was screaming 
 and shouting, and singing camp-meeting hymns, 
 and the Deacon had promised him a thrashing if 
 ever he drank another drop! 
 
 I do not know if he received the thrashing, but 
 he got something bad enough to make up for it if 
 he missed it, a most dreadful dose of medicine, 
 that the Deacon with his own hands prepared for 
 him! Hiram says he is "the color of a dirty mop-rag, 
 and with just about as much backbone to him, and 
 
198 PILGRIMS OF THE PLAINS 
 
 I'm making a bold guess that he won't break out, 
 and break his word again, this trip!" 
 
 The men were going on about their work as if the 
 gale were the gentlest of breezes. Hiram was busier 
 than anyone, repairing our wrecked carriage and all. 
 He fitted the carriage-body with wagon-bows and 
 covered it with canvas, and put up hooks for our 
 belongings, and made it all nicer than it was at first. 
 
 Anna and Mr. Breunner and I got the supper for 
 our section, in the enforced absence of the cook. 
 We did not know where anything was, and John had 
 to pick the dishes up out of the grass. They were 
 scattered far and wide. We filled our eyes with 
 smoke, and Mr. Breunner stepped backward into 
 the pail of hot coffee and burned his foot, and 
 Hiram scolded us for throwing out the coffee. "You 
 girls are that finicky and wasteful," he said and 
 the pancakes were so peppered with flying dirt that 
 we had to smother them with molasses in order to 
 eat them; but I doubt if we ever went to a party 
 that we enjoyed half so much. Anna would be glad 
 if Mr. Williams were disabled for a week, just so we 
 could go on with the cooking. 
 
 The boys built up a bush shelter against the 
 wagons, and near to the fire, and we wrapped our- 
 selves in blankets and sat with our toes in the warm 
 ashes, listening to stories the men were telling. 
 
KEEP OUT THE COLD 199 
 
 Haines suddenly turned to John and asked what 
 had happened between him and Downing. John 
 had not mentioned it, but Haines had heard of 
 it from the Captain. John replied that last night 
 when he had been doing guard-duty, he had taken 
 Downing, under arrest, to the Captain. 
 
 "You know it was the first time that they have 
 let me go on guard. Naturally you don't feel any 
 too easy in your mind when you know there are 
 Indians around, and you are walking up and down 
 in the dark, and the grass whispers 'sh-sh-sh' on 
 every side of you, and you see something move 
 out in the bushes, and you have got to walk 
 up to it, bold as brass. It is only a paper blow- 
 ing in the wind, but the next time maybe it 
 will be an Indian, creeping up on you! And then 
 you are sure that you do see someone sneaking 
 along, and you look and look, and you know it is 
 a person ! That is the way it was last night. Don't 
 you think I wasn't scared! My knees had kinks 
 in them so I could not stand up straight, and I lost 
 my breath for three minutes ! I don't know how it 
 was I happened to think of the Captain, just then, 
 but I did, and the thought of him kind of braced me 
 up; and I found that I could walk, and raise my 
 gun, and I cried out, 'Who goes there?' It sounded 
 queer lots louder than I meant to say it, but I 
 
200 PILGRIMS OF THE PLAINS 
 
 said it! And the man dropped behind a bush, till 
 he heard the click of my gun; then he got up and 
 came to me, and laughed as if it was a joke on me! 
 It was Downing. 
 
 "He said he heard the stock thrashing around as 
 if there were something wrong, and he got up to 
 see about it, but that did not explain about his 
 not answering me when I first spoke to him. He 
 tried to laugh me out of taking him to the Captain, 
 but I told him that was the orders. The Captain 
 gave him a sharp reprimand, and told him that the 
 reprimand would have been for me if I had not 
 done as I did. And Downing is mad at me yet, but 
 that makes no difference to me when the Captain 
 thinks I am right." 
 
 I think John did well, and it was all the braver 
 because he was really afraid, inside, and never let 
 Downing guess it. The boy is growing so manly, 
 and he seems so well. But Franz Bach and the 
 Deacon are saying that he ought to stay out in this 
 western country for a year at least. I think they 
 are planning for him to go with Ernst Breunner, 
 into Mexico. 
 
 If John goes to Mexico, and Anna stays with 
 Hiram in Santa Fe, and I have to go back home in 
 the caravan, without either of them 
 
CHAPTER XXI 
 
 WHEN KNIGHTS RODE OUT IN 
 TOURNAMENT 
 
 SATURDAY the wind was again blowing in 
 furious gusts, and the temper of the teams 
 was all upset; they were restless and frac- 
 tious, and, as the men said, "The whole caballada 
 were ready for a general estampeda." 
 
 The Spanish sounds no more strange to our ears. 
 Twank has a fancy for speaking it altogether, 
 though half the time we have to guess at his mean- 
 ing. There are a hundred convenient catch-phrases 
 that have insinuated themselves into our every-day 
 speech, and we use them without thinking whether 
 they are English or Spanish sQuien sake? No 
 sdbe ! 6 Como estd V? Buenos dias ! Buenas noches ! 
 Si, senor! No, senor! No es posible! and the 
 like. 
 
 Our oxen are American, Missouri bred and born, 
 but they have learned the Spanish, too! When 
 they get into difficulties the men urge them to their 
 best endeavors by volleys of blistering Spanish oaths, 
 
202 PILGRIMS OF THE PLAINS 
 
 a goad as effective as the whips that are laid 
 upon them so mercilessly. 
 
 John and I are so fond of the oxen that belong to 
 us, the ones that draw our wagons. They are such 
 beautiful creatures, and seem so faithful and de- 
 pendable. Yesterday morning Saturday morning 
 
 I was walking along with them, smoothing their 
 sleek sides, talking the pretty complimentary talk 
 that they like to hear, and quieting them, when 
 they tossed their heads and snuffed the gusty air. 
 The loads seemed more than they could pull, and 
 they sighed and groaned, and dragged their feet, and 
 I told them it was a shame to overtask them so, and 
 I hated the men who cracked their whips at them. 
 
 Coming to a little creek, I went back and climbed 
 into the carriage. Lucky I did! I would have 
 been left miles behind if I had not. When the first 
 of the teams went down into the creek-bed, a flock 
 of cranes flew up almost under their noses, and they 
 snorted and bellowed, and started up the bank at a 
 crazy gallop, and they frightened all the other teams, 
 and our heavy wagons were jerked along through 
 deep gullies and up steep slopes. And after the 
 mad race was brought to an end, the "dear, depend- 
 able, patient things" looked as abused as if the 
 drivers had been to blame for the extra work that 
 they had put upon themselves! 
 
KNIGHTS RODE IN TOURNAMENT 203 
 
 One of the wagons came gaily sailing along upon 
 three wheels. Several others were half emptied of 
 their contents. Stray boxes and bales of goods had 
 to be looked up and repacked. And altogether 
 we had to make a five-hour stop in the middle of 
 the day. 
 
 I think it must have been Friday night when a 
 band of wild horses crossed the trail before the 
 camp; and Franz Bach and Downing and some of 
 the others went out after them, and brought in 
 five. And now, while the caravan was waiting, 
 they took advantage of the time to "break the 
 horses in." The phrase is exactly the right one, 
 they do "break" them, break their will, and 
 almost kill them, to conquer them. 
 
 It must be a frightful thing for a free wild creature 
 to find itself with a heavy saddle tightly cinched on 
 its body, to feel a crooked, cramping, breaking bar 
 of iron in its mouth, and to have to carry upon its 
 back the weight of a savage monster, who stabs it 
 in the flank with sharp spurs, cuts its skin into open, 
 bleeding welts with the lash of a quirt, and beats 
 it over the head with the loaded handle. It is no 
 wonder that the four-legged brute tries to kill the 
 one who so assaults him. 
 
 I can only suppose that this is quite the usual 
 
204 PILGRIMS OF THE PLAINS 
 
 procedure, for the men showed no anger or surprise 
 while Downing was practising these cruelties. 
 
 I asked Ernst Breunner if such brutality were 
 necessary if my pretty Aguilita had been so 
 mistreated. His blue eyes showed dangerous sparks 
 in them as he answered. 
 
 "No! Indeed, no! Such treatment is barbarous, 
 and a positive damage to the horse. If the animal 
 is a creature of spirit, it will be ready to renew the 
 contest whenever it feels a weak or incompetent 
 hand upon the rein. Horses are naturally kindly 
 and intelligent, ready to meet man half-way if only 
 he gains their confidence and trust in the beginning. 
 Whip and spurs are unnecessary, to 'gentle' a horse." 
 
 Downing had dismounted and was standing near 
 us, wiping the sweat from his brow with a bloody 
 hand. There was an ugly sneer upon his lips. 
 
 "Well, that sounds right pretty it's as much as 
 you know about it! Them that knows 'broncs' 
 knows you can't break 'em that way. I'd like to 
 see you try out your fine notions on that there red 
 roan, the one that Bach is getting ready to ride. 
 You'd be in the dust, and have your insides kicked 
 out of you in no time!" 
 
 Ernst's cheeks could not but flush at the tone 
 which Downing saw fit to use, but he showed no 
 other sign of annoyance. He spoke to Franz Bach. 
 
KNIGHTS RODE IN TOURNAMENT 205 
 
 "Take that saddle off, and give me a straight bit, 
 and I will ride your roan for you." Bach looked at 
 him in surprise, but seeing that he meant what he 
 said, he ordered the boys to bring a bridle with 
 an easy bar-bit. 
 
 Though Mr. Breunner had ridden with us often, 
 John and I had no idea that he was horseman enough 
 to ride and break a wild horse of the plains, and 
 now he was stripping off coat and vest, making 
 ready for the encounter! There were no prelimi- 
 naries. With a bold leap he was on the horse's 
 back without saddle or whip or spurs ! Downing 
 was prophesying evil, but we gave no thought to 
 him! we had only eyes and thoughts for Ernst 
 Breunner and the big roan. 
 
 The horse was an intelligent creature, whose first 
 effort, when he found a strange and unwelcome 
 burden on his back, was to rid himself of it. Nature 
 had taught him a thousand tricks to rear, to 
 plunge, to jump in the air and dodge sidewise before 
 his feet touched the earth, to buck and buck, fiercely 
 and continuously. 
 
 Ernst kept his place through all of it with apparent 
 ease; and in every pause he spoke to the animal in 
 soothing tones, his hand patting and smoothing the 
 silky neck. 
 
 The roan must have come to the conclusion that 
 
206 PILGRIMS OF THE PLAINS 
 
 there was nothing dangerous or disagreeable about 
 this burden that had fixed itself upon his back. 
 Run? Surely he could run! His head was gently 
 turned and he found himself running in a circle. 
 Well, why not? Yes, he could turn the other way, 
 this way and that, could slow down, and stop, 
 and run and turn again. It was rather nice to have 
 one's neck rubbed and patted, rather nice to be 
 talked to, something to be proud of that they 
 two should understand each other so well. 
 
 In shorter time than one would have thought it 
 possible, the splendid creature was answering to the 
 rein, and then Ernst rode up and gravely saluted 
 our Captain, as if he were taking part in a royal 
 review. 
 
 To the big horse this seemed a good time to 
 further try the quality of his rider. With a plunge 
 and a rush he was off! But Ernst looked back and 
 smiled with the gay unconcern of one who is sure 
 of his power to control. In the olden times, when 
 knights rode in tournament, there never was figure 
 more spirited, more knightly, more worthy of 
 admiration ! 
 
 I may have looked at Captain Harrod inquiringly, 
 for he answered the question that was in my mind. 
 
 "Ernst Breunner, when he was a Gymnasien stu- 
 dent, gave a full year, as all Germans are obliged 
 
KNIGHTS RODE IN TOURNAMENT 207 
 
 to do, to military service. That he was a member 
 of the German cavalry, partly accounts for his 
 skill, but he has the natural gift for horsemanship, 
 besides." 
 
 My eyes were following the two. The roan was 
 running wildly free, as if at the head of his band. 
 He came to a sudden stop, and went through all 
 the repertoire of his tricks again, but now it was 
 with a different spirit, as if they were playing a wild 
 rough game together. Then they returned to us at 
 an easy gallop. 
 
 Franz Bach was delighted, and he called out: 
 
 "Hi, dere! You Mr. Sherman-Prof essor-mans ! 
 Coom oop here, und dell us how dot trick vos 
 done! Id vos a pity dot you nod own dot horse, 
 now aindt it?" 
 
 And upon that hint Mr. Breunner spoke, offering 
 him a price that was at once accepted. The roan 
 'had a new master! John scurried off and was back 
 in a moment with our ponies, Barnaby and Aguilita, 
 and we tried the paces of the three together. They 
 went along very well, but Aguilita is, I am sure, 
 much the swiftest! 
 
 After six days of travel we were glad when we 
 woke this morning to know that this is Rest-day. 
 It is not possible for the men to observe the Sabbath 
 
208 PILGRIMS OF THE PLAINS 
 
 in a very orthodox fashion, but they know that it 
 is different from the other days of the week, and 
 that it is better than to disregard it utterly as most 
 of the caravans do. 
 
 Danny and Ernst and John and I went for a long 
 ride this morning. The men were glad to be rid 
 of us, for they purposed to have a "good cleaning-up 
 spell." They went swimming, and borrowed a keg 
 of soft-soap from the cook to do their weekly wash- 
 ing with; and they washed their clothes, and 
 scrubbed their faces, and trimmed their beards, and 
 decked themselves out in whatever finery they were 
 possessed of fancy belts and gay bandannas 
 so they were hardly to be recognized. And they 
 were playing all sorts of games when we returned 
 throwing tomahawks, shooting at targets, pitching 
 horse-shoes, and playing "crack-a-lou." A few were 
 simply gossiping and telling stories. 
 
 Danny, who likes to have something doing all the 
 time, proposed that to-night his Division should 
 entertain all the others. Everybody was invited 
 and everybody came. 
 
 Anna and John and I helped to serve the sweet 
 crackers and raisins, the boys carried the baskets 
 of sandwiches, and Rob and Hiram managed the 
 big coffee-pots. 
 
 The men were very conscious that this was a 
 
KNIGHTS RODE IN TOURNAMENT 209 
 
 "party," and they hushed their laughter, lest it 
 should be too loud, and ate and drank in polite 
 moderation, remembering their "manners." Alto- 
 gether they were making it a rather stiff and not 
 over-enjoyable occasion, when Twank began to 
 play on his squeaky little fiddle the tunes that they 
 were familiar with, and then they began to feel 
 more at ease, and soon they were all singing and 
 having the best of times. 
 
 There are many among them who cannot read, 
 and for those who can, there are no newspapers or 
 books. The time would hang heavy on their hands 
 if each one did not take it upon himself to help 
 entertain the others. They are capital story-tellers, 
 and they are all of them singers, and they give 
 themselves up to the spell of the music with a whole- 
 hearted enthusiasm that gives to their rudest ballads 
 something of charm and power. 
 
 I remember a part of one of their songs, called 
 "The Battle of Point Pleasant." 
 
 "Let us mind the tenth day of October, 
 
 Seventy-four, which caused woe. 
 
 The Indian savages they did cover 
 
 The pleasant banks of the Ohio. 
 
 "Colonel Lewis and some noble Captains, 
 
 Did down to death like Uriah go. 
 Alas ! their heads are bound up with napkins, 
 Upon the banks of the Ohio. 
 
210 PILGRIMS OF THE PLAINS 
 
 "Seven score lay dead and wounded, 
 
 Of champions who did face the foe; 
 By which the heathen were confounded, 
 Upon the banks of the Ohio. 
 
 "Oh, bless the mighty King of Heaven, 
 
 For all his wondrous works below, 
 Who hath to us the victory given, 
 Upon the banks of the Ohio." 
 
 It is easy enough to criticize the poetry, but when 
 two hundred strong voices unite in singing it to the 
 tune of "Bonnie Doon" there seems nothing in it 
 that one would wish to change. And when they 
 swung off into the chorus of "The Song of the West," 
 my heart thrilled within me as it had never thrilled 
 to music before. 
 
 "To the West, to the West! to the land of the free, 
 Where the mighty Missouri rolls down to the sea!" 
 
 It was like the roar of a great organ, when all the 
 stops are pulled out; and as if it had been an invo- 
 cation or a summons, when the last verse was sung, 
 the round-eyed moon slowly rose above the distant 
 hazy line of the horizon. Where before had been 
 soft gloom, dimly lighted by the flickering fire, was 
 now a dazzling crystal radiance, that flooded all the 
 plain. 
 
 In this new light I looked upon the men grouped 
 about us, and they were not as I had seen them day 
 
KNIGHTS RODE IN TOURNAMENT 211 
 
 by day. I saw them as those who are yet to be born 
 will see them ! They are Heroes, the Conquerors 
 of the Wilderness! 
 
 They are like the mighty men of old, the men of 
 whom Ossian sang, men strong and courageous, 
 born with a feverish unrest in their hearts, with a 
 divine frenzy in their souls, that urges them ever to 
 tread out for themselves the new strange pathway. 
 All the obstacles that Nature puts in their way are 
 to them as nothing. Seas may not stay them, nor 
 forests affright, nor deserts dismay! 
 
 Bold and rough and daring they are, but they 
 know what gentleness and tenderness mean. With 
 Hiram and Danny they sang the old songs that we 
 all know, sang them as if they loved them, "Annie 
 Laurie," "The Light Canoe," "O Come, Maidens, 
 Come," and "Auld Lang Syne." 
 
 And someone began the hymn, "Come Thou 
 Fount," and all were singing, only I could not 
 sing with them. There were tears upon my cheeks, 
 and my throat was choked, and my heart was filled 
 with thoughts of home. It was the time for family 
 prayers, and father and mother and the girls would 
 be singing together 
 
CHAPTER XXII 
 "A MILLION IN A BUNCH" 
 
 OUR hunters have been grieving and sighing 
 because of the absence of the usual buffalo 
 herds on the plain. There will be no more 
 sighing on that account! They have seen all of 
 that sort of game they will care to see for some little 
 time ! There were millions literally millions of 
 buffalo in the herd that crossed the trail yesterday. 
 
 Bloody battle, shipwreck, earthquake, tor- 
 nado! We experienced the sensations that belong 
 to all of them. 
 
 It must have been an hour after the caravan had 
 left the camp that we had the first warning of their 
 approach. John and Ernst and I were riding leis- 
 urely along at the side of the wagons when we heard 
 a faint indescribable sound like the roaring of a 
 distant Niagara, and the ground was trembling 
 beneath our feet! 
 
 Uncle Pliny rushed up, and unceremoniously 
 thrust John from his horse, and mounted and rode 
 up to the crest of a little swell not far from the track, 
 to the north. As he went he called back: 
 
A MILLION IN A BUNCH 213 
 
 "It's buffalo buffalo! An almighty big herd 
 of 'em. It cain't be nothin' else!" 
 
 Mr. Breunner and I rode after him at a gallop. 
 Along the whole breadth of the level plain, from the 
 eastern to the western horizon line, there appeared 
 a solid bank of dark rolling dust! It came on at 
 breakneck speed a solid mass of buffalo, a stam- 
 peded herd! 
 
 "Good Lord deliver us! They will be onto us 
 before ever we can get ready to face 'em!" 
 
 We wheeled to dash back to the wagons, and heard 
 the bugle's shrill call; saw the wagons advancing, 
 saw them take their position in a long sharply 
 pointed "V," with the point toward the on-coming 
 herd. Two howitzers were run out far in advance, 
 with groups of picked experienced old plainsmen to 
 keep the front. We waited to see no more, but with 
 one backward glance fled to cover. 
 
 The stock was hobbled and made fast between 
 the double line of wagons. Hiram seized me and 
 tossed me up among the bales of goods by the side 
 of Anna. 
 
 "Lordy, Lordy! If we get through this with our 
 lives 'twill be nothin' less than a miracle! Now 
 then, you girls, you lie right there, and don't you 
 budge, whatever happens, whatever you may see 
 or hear!" and he was gone. 
 
214 PILGRIMS OF THE PLAINS 
 
 The sound of the trampling hoofs was like thunder 
 only a hundred times more dreadful than ever 
 thunder sounded. We heard the roar of the big 
 howitzers, the sharp report of the rifles, round after 
 round. 
 
 After many minutes of agonizing suspense, Anna's 
 stiff lips whispered, "I believe they're passing us!" 
 And they were rushing by us outside of the 
 wagon lines. Our front must have held firm against 
 them. Yet as they rushed by us, some of the animals 
 crowded us so close, as to almost overturn the wagon 
 where we lay! 
 
 Uncle Pliny came back after another box of 
 ammunition, and stopped to tell us how the battle 
 was going. 
 
 "You can bet that we done the trick! We're 
 'bout the same as safe, though, I take it. Not but 
 what they're still a-comin' an' likely to keep on 
 a-comin' fur all day. But the bunch is putty well 
 divided, an' they'll keep on a-swingin' furder an' 
 furder apart. The biggest herd I ever see an' 
 I've been twenty year travelin' this region. It 
 didn't look like they could be a wedge that could 
 split 'em, they was packed that solid! An' comin' 
 like a avalanche down a mountain slide! It were 
 the howitzers that done it dropped 'em by 
 hunderds, piled 'em in a heap, a nasty slippery heap 
 
A MILLION IN A BUNCH 215 
 
 that the next ones stumbled on, an' couldn't climb, 
 an' them that was behind tromped them that 
 was in front, an' the pile grew bigger ever' second, 
 an' the bangin' an' the roar frightened 'em, so the 
 nigh ones sort o' turned an' crowded to one side. 
 The split were started, an' then all we had to do was 
 to keep on shootin' like blazes. But they was a 
 good spell when it looked like nip-an'-tuck with us, 
 an' as if it was us that'd be the ones to be nipped an* 
 tuckered! Them there boys got plum crazy, an' 
 they pot-shotted right an' left, too keerless to see 
 where they were aimin', an' they putty nigh fetched 
 me got the whiskers off one side of my face!" 
 
 His face was powder burned and his whiskers 
 were singed, but his whole air was one of jubilation 
 as he pottered away, back to where the shooting 
 was fiercest. 
 
 We sat up and looked about us. The herd was 
 divided and turning further and further from the 
 wagons. As soon as there was a safe clear space 
 beside us the butchers got to work. Poles were set 
 up, ropes were strung, and soon long, flaky strips 
 of the choicest and tenderest part of the young 
 beeves were hanging out a-drying in the sun. 
 
 It was long after our usual dinner hour when 
 Ernst and John came up to tell us that they were 
 starved for something to eat, and dying also from 
 
216 PILGRIMS OF THE PLAINS 
 
 thirst. Where Mr. Williams was no one seemed to 
 know, so Anna and I scrambled up a dinner after 
 we had satisfied ourselves that these people were 
 really not strangers and wild men! Indeed, we 
 could not be sure we knew them, they were so 
 ragged, and bloody, and dirty, and disheveled! 
 
 Their breath was coming in gasps, their faces 
 were flushed red under the dirt, their eyes shining 
 with the excitement of battle. Ernst's thick blond 
 locks were tousled and tumbled over his brow, his 
 sleeves were stiff with blood, where they were not 
 fringed into tatters, and John was in as sad a plight. 
 They were young gladiators from a Roman arena! 
 It had been "glorious sport," but they were glad 
 enough to rest, and to eat and drink. How many 
 cupfuls of coffee they tossed down their throats, 
 how many helpings of meat and gravy and flapjacks 
 they had, Anna and I are not telling. 
 
 It was impossible for us to move from the place 
 where we had set camp, for there were still too many 
 buffalo along the route we would have to take. It 
 was not until sunset that the wagons could again 
 take the trail. Where the herd had passed there 
 was no vestige of greenness left. The land was 
 bare as a stretch of desert, and there were heaps 
 on heaps of dead buffalo lying everywhere around 
 us. It was revolting, nauseating, but we did not 
 
A MILLION IN A BUNCH 217 
 
 forget to be thankful that the caravan had suffered 
 no injury. 
 
 "It's likely enough that we could a-saved our 
 lives," Uncle Pliny said, "a-puttin' ourselves inside 
 the doubled wagons chained like they was; but if 
 the Captain hadn't been jest so smart and sharp 
 about it we never 'd saved our critters they'd 
 a-gone a-kitin' with them there buffalo, an' where 
 would we a-been then? We'd be a-walkin' back 
 to Westport, carryin' what little food we could tote, 
 an' our guns an' am'nition, an' runnin' our chance 
 with the Injuns if we should meet 'em! 
 
 "They was somethin' like that done happened to 
 a pack-tram, years ago, down by the Caches. Their 
 stock was all stampeded, an' they couldn't carry 
 their goods nowhere without beasts to do it with, 
 so they made plans to hide 'em, an' they had to 
 hide 'em mighty keerful, so's the Injuns wouldn't 
 surmise nothin'. Them being camped close to the 
 river, like they was, gave them an extry chanst. 
 They dug three deep holes, big enough to hold every- 
 thing, an' they put their goods in 'em, and kivered 
 'em up. Then they waded out into the river and 
 carried and dumped ever' mite o' dirt what come out 
 o' them holes in the water, so the piles o' dirt wouldn't 
 be there to show that holes had been dug. They 
 done it all so crafty plantin' cactus an' bay 'net- 
 
218 PILGRIMS OF THE PLAINS 
 
 plants, an' walkin' back'ard, an' coverin' up their 
 tracks with sifted sand and loose stones an* all. 
 The sharpest eyed Injun wouldn't never guess 
 they'd been a white man's foot there let alone 
 leavin' their goods there, an' they walked back 
 to Independence, an' got another lot o' pack-mules, 
 an' come back to their caches. An' that's why 
 people still calls it the ' Caches,' you know, an' 
 their goods was all right an' they loaded of 'em up, 
 an' took 'em on to Santa Fe. They called their- 
 selves right lucky, but even at that it were not an 
 experience that one'd hanker for. An' I'm a-sayin' 
 that we-alls can count ourselves most oncommon 
 lucky that the same as that didn't happen to us in 
 that there stampede!" 
 
 After spending so many days out in the glaring 
 sunshine, it seems heavenly sweet to spend one idle 
 day in the cool shade of the trees here at Walnut 
 Creek. It must have rained here, the day we had 
 that wind-storm at Little Turkey Creek, the foliage 
 looks so fresh and green, and there is a damp woodsy 
 odor in the air, that makes me think of home; and 
 there are ferns in the deep shady wet places under 
 the rocks, and there are flowers blossoming every- 
 where. 
 
 The great Arkansas river is in sight. It is a wide, 
 
A MILLION IN A BUNCH 219 
 
 wide stream, with little islands covered with a young 
 growth of cottonwood trees dotting its surface. 
 Across the river are hills of yellow sand, rolling back 
 like waves of gold. On this side of the river the 
 banks are low and marshy. Shallow pools and 
 lakelets gleam blue between the tall rushes. 
 
 Flocks of crane! Plover in innumerable squads! 
 Ducks in black clouds overhead! The men are 
 thinking of nothing else than the hunting. All 
 day we have been hearing the sound of guns. En- 
 thusiastic sportsmen as they are, they did not go 
 out of sight and hearing of the camp. They under- 
 stand very well that this is within the line marked 
 "dangerous." These broad fields rich in game 
 are the favorite "stamping grounds" of the 
 Indians from north and south and east and west. 
 They come here to hunt, to hold their friendly pow- 
 wows, and to fight, so our men are well satisfied 
 to keep within sound of the company's bugles. 
 
 Some of the more experienced have greater free- 
 dom. They ride on ahead of the train, to find the 
 best place for camping, and to look for signs of 
 danger. They have the best horses in the train; 
 they go equipped with extra arms and ammunition; 
 and they carry spy-glasses or telescopes, so it would 
 not be easy to take them by surprise. 
 
 Ernst Breunner is one of the specially favored 
 
220 PILGRIMS OF THE PLAINS 
 
 ones; he comes and goes much as he pleases. Since 
 we were at Council Grove, he has been making 
 something like a regular survey of the country 
 through which we are passing, noting the geologi- 
 cal formation, the changing elevation above sea- 
 level, the height of the hills, the depth and course 
 of the streams, etc. 
 
 Deacon Gentry and John have decided it between 
 them that John is to go to Mexico, and Mr. 
 Breunner is giving him instruction in mensuration 
 and surveying. To-morrow morning they are going 
 on ahead of the caravan to "Pawnee Rock," to 
 explore it, take measurements, and make notes. 
 
 I am wild to go with them, but no one has sug- 
 gested that I do so. "Pawnee Rock" is an enor- 
 mous red-sandstone boulder or bluff, a hundred or 
 more feet in height, rising solitary and majestic 
 (a western Sphinx) above the level of the plain. 
 Sphinx-like it keeps its own counsel. It does not 
 unclose its lips to speak of the thousand direful 
 tragedies and thrilling romances that have been 
 enacted under its gaze. 
 
 It does not need to speak, for there are men to 
 speak for it. They have garnered up scores of legends 
 that they recite with telling effect at night when 
 the fire burns low, and the wolf-chorus sounds in 
 our ears. 
 
A MILLION IN A BUNCH 
 
 All the noted people who have crossed the plains, 
 for hundreds of years, have stopped to visit this 
 famous landmark, and many have carved their 
 names there in the rock the Boones, and Davy 
 Crockett, and Colonel Bowie, and Kit Carson; and 
 there are old, old, Spanish names, and Indian hiero- 
 glyphics! And I want to go and see it all for myself. 
 And maybe I will! If John goes, I do truly think 
 I ought to go, to look after him. That is what 
 father sent me out on the plains to do! 
 
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 Big Rob is amusing himself and the men around 
 him, doing the Sword-dance and the Highland-fling. 
 He is agile and supple, and light on his feet as a 
 sixteen-year-old girl. The men are hugely inter- 
 ested in the lively performance, and in his efforts 
 
PILGRIMS OF THE PLAINS 
 
 at singing! His voice booms out like one of our 
 big guns. It is enough to make one more than a 
 little excited and light-headed, and rashly disposed 
 to undertake any deed of daring, to hear him roar 
 out the inspiring strains of "Scots wha hae wi' 
 Wallace bled" and the warlike "Bonnie Dundee," 
 
 
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 'Come fill up my cup, and fill up my can! 
 Come saddle my horses and call up my men! 
 Unhook the west port, and let us gae free, 
 For it's 'Up wi' the bonnets o' bonnie Dundee'!' 
 
CHAPTER XXIH 
 SQUAW TOGGERY 
 
 IT was still dark, with only a ghostly hint of 
 dawn in the sky, when John tapped with his 
 whip on the curtains. 
 
 "Do you hear me, Deya? We are off to Pawnee 
 Rock! Such a pity you can't go with us!" 
 
 I murmured a sleepy response to this belated 
 indefinite invitation, and he never knew that I was 
 already up and dressing getting ready to accept 
 it! A freakish, foolish notion possessed me. If I 
 had not been half-asleep I would not have enter- 
 tained it for an instant, but just then I fancied 
 it would be "smart" to masquerade as an Indian 
 and play at capturing my dear brother. I suppose 
 seeing the squaw suit hanging there put the notion 
 in my head; but at any rate, I dressed myself in the 
 deerskin garments, moccasins, leggings, skirt, and 
 jacket. I even debated whether I might not wear 
 the eagle-feather head-dress, but compromised with 
 myself by tying a red sash around my "jetty braided 
 locks," and sticking a single feather therein. 
 
224 PILGRIMS OF THE PLAINS 
 
 Mr. Williams had been up for a long time, getting 
 breakfast for the early risers, and he poured out my 
 coffee and fixed up a lunch for me. Half an hour 
 after John and Ernst had quitted camp I was on my 
 way. A white mist was lying low upon the prairie, 
 so I did not see them till I was almost upon them, 
 and they did not notice me till I gave my best 
 imitation of a wild war-whoop, and dashed down 
 upon them. For a moment they were startled, and 
 then John answered me in kind, and, tossing his hand 
 in derision, he urged Barnaby into a run. The roan 
 horse, Zeppa, was swifter than Barnaby, but my 
 little Aguilita could outrun them both. I passed 
 them, and drew up in the middle of the road to 
 bring them to a stop. And then I had a shame- 
 faced explanation to make. I knew that I ought 
 not to have gone out of camp without permission, 
 and I felt foolish in my silly masquerade. But 
 John was nice about it, and said the suit made "a 
 bully riding costume," and when I knew he 
 thought it was all right I was satisfied. 
 
 Our ponies pulled at their bits, and fretted when 
 We tried to rein them in. They eyed each other 
 askance, and begged that we would let them try 
 their mettle in another good race. It was glorious, 
 our flight through the dew- wet grasses. 
 
 A softened silvery sun, a pale sweet wraith of 
 
SQUAW TOGGERY 225 
 
 itself, showed through the veil of mist. The wind 
 came up, the white fog lifted, the sun glowed like 
 a ball of golden fire, and every dewdrop jewel, on 
 every blade of grass, twinkled and trembled and 
 flashed and sparkled, till one could fancy that the 
 plain was bestrewn with diamonds and emeralds 
 and seed-pearls. 
 
 Pawnee Rock lay there before us. We dismounted 
 and threw our ponies' bridle-reins over their heads 
 they have learned not to stray away when the 
 lines are left to trail on the ground and before 
 setting about our tasks, we sat down to eat the 
 lunch that I had brought. Ernst and John were glad 
 enough that I was with them, firstly because I had 
 brought something to eat, and the ride in the morn- 
 ing air had made them hungry as bears, and secondly 
 because I could explore the upper rocks and copy 
 the inscriptions while they were busy with their 
 instruments and their "logarithms" and such. 
 
 The big rock was not perpendicular, even in the 
 steepest place. There were crannies for footholds, 
 and knobby projections to hold by, so if one kept a 
 steady head it was possible to climb almost to the 
 very top of the cliff. 
 
 I had a little note-book of my own, and carried 
 one of Ernst's, and in these I set down everything 
 that I thought might have interest or value. I put 
 
226 PILGRIMS OF THE PLAINS 
 
 down the inscriptions just as they were, even though 
 I did not know what they meant some of them 
 were worse than Greek to me. I wondered if a 
 Spaniard would be able to read them. One bore 
 the date 1630. 
 
 I found a queer figure carved in the rock under one 
 of the overhanging ledges. I am sure it was meant 
 for the royal eagle that is to bring Montezuma the 
 king back to his waiting people. All the Indians 
 of the Southwest, and especially those of the Pecos 
 tribe, are still expecting the great Montezuma to 
 return and reign over them, though it is two cen- 
 turies since he vanished so mysteriously from the 
 face of the earth. 
 
 The idea struck me that this bird, and the "Piasa- 
 bird" painted on the bluff at Alton, may be repre- 
 sentations of the same object. Perhaps some one 
 of Montezuma's followers may have crossed the 
 plains toward the Kingdom of the East, and painted 
 and carved these strange figures on the bold head- 
 lands as a sign and token to their sovereign that his 
 people had not forgotten him. Or it may be they 
 were meant to mark the trail from the land of the 
 rising sun to the valley of the Pecos. 
 
 I found a convenient niche in the rocks where I 
 could sit and trace the drawings in my book. 
 
SQUAW TOGGERY 
 
 I closed the book and rose to go, and my hand lay 
 upon the place where Kit Carson's name was cut! 
 Pawnee Rock is like the "visitor's book" in an inn, 
 where every guest inscribes his name. There was a 
 particularly smooth bit of stone near Kit Carson's 
 name, and if I had thought that he would ever return 
 and look up his record there I would have written 
 the word "Deya" and the date, just by way of 
 greeting. 
 
 There were other inscriptions to be examined, and 
 I reached up and clung to a ragged knob of stone, 
 as I tried to find a safe place to set my foot, 
 and the rock came loose in my hands! I slipped 
 downward till my feet struck a jutting ledge and 
 my hands caught in a prickly bush that grew there. 
 Everything turned black before my eyes. Even 
 after I had given myself a little time to recover 
 I could not bring myself to think of making the 
 descent alone. I saw John on the slope around 
 at the left, and I called to him to come and 
 help me, and he thought I was just pretending 
 that I was afraid, for he laughed and shook his 
 head, and pointed to the instrument that he was 
 using. But there was the fact, he refused to come 
 to me, and I flared up angry in an instant, and I 
 made up my mind that I would come down that 
 rock, right then, if I broke my neck doing it! 
 
PILGRIMS OF THE PLAINS 
 
 I suppose it took just that flash of temper to nerve 
 me for the task. I swung down the dangerous 
 places with never a slip, till I was at the very bottom, 
 and then I must have grown careless, or a stone 
 turned under my foot the rest of the way I came 
 with a rush, and I would have gone headlong had 
 not Mr. Breunner appeared. I do not know how he 
 caught me I did not know anything for a time, 
 and it was only by degrees that the consciousness 
 came to me that he was holding me, and murmur- 
 ing all sorts of endearing phrases that were evidently 
 intended for me, for there was no one else to hear! 
 
 I just hated it! I think he might have waited 
 till he found out whether I wanted him to or not, 
 before he used lovers' language to me! If I had 
 answered him then, he would have known I was 
 angry, and I felt so foolish. If John had come to 
 help me as I wanted him to, this would not have 
 happened. Aguilita was within call, and in a 
 minute I was on her back, and riding swift as she 
 could carry me, back along the way that I had 
 come, back to meet the caravan. 
 
 And then I thought how silly I had been, and I 
 laughed and turned my pony again toward Pawnee 
 Rock. I could just pretend that I had not heard 
 what he had said, and everything would be as if it 
 had not happened. 
 
SQUAW TOGGERY 229 
 
 Aguilita and I made our way by a roundabout 
 path to the top of the bluff, and there I waited for 
 John and Ernst to finish their work. The wind 
 was blowing, pure and fine and strong, and it blew 
 all my troublesome thoughts away before it. I 
 looked upon the lovely landscape with real joy. 
 With the glass that I carried I watched the caravan 
 crawling slowly across the plain. I thought I could 
 distinguish the Captain and Danny and Stoneman, 
 riding in advance, and I knew the blue bit of gauze 
 fluttering from one of the distant wagons was Anna's 
 veil. 
 
 Except for the caravan there was no living crea- 
 ture in sight no birds in the sky, no antelope, 
 wolves or coyotes. I turned the glass to the north- 
 west, there was something like a threat of storm, 
 a low dark cloud, a dust cloud, a gleam of color, a 
 flash of light. I held the glass steady, and then I 
 knew! Indians! Indians with banners and spears! 
 "A war-party!" I screamed frantically to Ernst and 
 John, and pointed to the west. They climbed up 
 beside me, and Ernst took the glass. After one 
 searching look, he sent me back to warn the cara- 
 van, while they stayed where they were, to watch 
 the movements of the approaching Indians. 
 
 My swift "Little Eagle" spread her wings and 
 flew over the ground. Those at the head of the 
 
230 PILGRIMS OF THE PLAINS 
 
 caravan saw my signals and understood the 
 danger that threatened us! I heard the fierce 
 yelling of the drivers, the crack of the whips like 
 pistol-shots, the creak and groaning of the wagons. 
 
 Four lines abreast, the teams were coming on at 
 full gallop, the lines straight, and all in perfect 
 order. At the bugle signal the outside lines drew 
 apart and increased their speed. They were the 
 first to reach the rock, and they turned and swung 
 in toward each other to form a semi-circle, with the 
 eastern face of the rock as a base. The oxen were 
 unhitched and hobbled and tied safely inside. By 
 this time the other Divisions had arrived and taken 
 position close on the outside a double line of 
 wagons with a wall at the back, and a little flowing 
 spring of water in the center, a fortress all but 
 impregnable to an Indian attack. 
 
 Bales of blankets and buffalo robes were piled 
 along the ground, under the wagons, and behind 
 this bulwark the expert riflemen were stationed. 
 The howitzers were outside of all, their big mouths 
 an open threat of Death, that even the most reckless 
 of warriors would not dare to disregard. 
 
 There was half an hour of inaction, half an 
 hour of suspense. It seemed an age ! It was almost 
 a relief to hear the first shrill whoop that told us 
 that the Indians had at last discovered us. They 
 
SQUAW TOGGERY 231 
 
 filled the plain to the south; they wheeled in a mass 
 and charged full upon us, two thousand yelling 
 Cheyenne braves! 
 
 With head-dresses streaming in the wind, spears 
 brandished, ready for the casting, with horrid cries, 
 sharp and blood-curdling, they threatened to ride 
 us down into us and over us. I thought that I 
 might die from fright before ever they reached us, 
 but I got my revolver and cartridges ready to my 
 hand, and I determined that if I lived long enough 
 I would shoot six bullets anyway into that crowd 
 of yelling demoniacs. 
 
 But our people were ready for them. I heard the 
 click of their gunlocks, and then the Indians 
 suddenly wheeled away just before coming into 
 rifle-range. In solid mass, they bore down upon 
 us again, with still more frightful and deafening 
 cries, and again they turned away as before. 
 
 We who were hidden behind the wagon curtains 
 could see that their keen glances were taking in every 
 detail of our defense the big-mouthed cannon, 
 the barricades, the hundreds of rifles ready to reply 
 to the singing of their arrows. And there was our 
 Captain to be reckoned with. He was standing by 
 the side of his horse, alone, out in front, regarding 
 their every movement, undismayed by their most 
 alarming demonstrations. 
 
PILGRIMS OF THE PLAINS 
 
 The third time that they wheeled by us, they 
 assumed a gay instead of a hostile attitude, and 
 their cries were pitched in a slightly different key. 
 They drew up in close ranks, beyond range of our 
 guns, and waited to see what we would do. 
 
 Captain Harrod seized the opportunity as soon 
 as it was offered. Grave and quiet in manner, but 
 with a superb air of confidence, he rode out to meet 
 them, not even showing the raised hand the sign 
 of amity till he was well within arrow-shot. 
 
 The eyes of all the Indians were turned upon 
 him, but they made no sign. When he was within 
 a few rods of them he drew rein and waited, busying 
 himself with the filling of his pipe, preparatory to 
 lighting it. 
 
 In all our camp no one dared to speak or breathe, 
 until we saw the young chief riding out to meet the 
 Captain. Then Danny gave a sob of relief, and the 
 words burst from him, "Bully for Captain Harrod! 
 He's done the trick." The tears gushed from my 
 eyes tears of pride for our Captain's splendid 
 courage, and tears of thankfulness. 
 
 A few of the lesser dignitaries among the Indians 
 pressed forward to join their chief, and it was 
 plainly the duty of our Lieutenants to go to the 
 support of our Captain. Aljoe and Haines and 
 Stoneman and Danny were in their saddles in an 
 
SQUAW TOGGERY 
 
 instant. A gap was opened between the wagons 
 for them to pass. 
 
 Just as they started, reckless Danny called to 
 me, "Come on, Deya! There is no danger! The 
 Captain has got the conjur-spell on them!" He 
 held up his hand, making the "let's-play-hookey" 
 sign, and I threw up my hand, in answering signal. 
 John giggled with delight, and we three scrambled 
 on our ponies and rode out of the gap, after the 
 others, wickedly aware of the fact that if the Captain 
 did disapprove of our presence, he would never 
 dare to send us back. 
 
 The palaver between the two parties was peace- 
 able enough. The chief assured us that his people 
 had put on the war-paint for their enemies the 
 Arapahoes the treacherous Arapahoes, who under 
 the guise of friends had misused them, stealing their 
 horses and carrying off their women. To the white 
 man their intentions were altogether brotherly! 
 Their warlike actions were designed only to give 
 pleasure to the brave men who formed our com- 
 pany. They were practising the maneuvers by 
 which they hoped to terrify the cowardly Arapa- 
 hoes. Was it not a brave picture they made? If 
 the white brothers were pleased, perhaps they would 
 make some little present of tobacco or "hoggy- 
 meat" or other trifle? 
 
234 PILGRIMS OF THE PLAINS 
 
 The Captain replied that he had already planned 
 to bestow many gifts upon them, and he gave orders 
 to Aljoe and Stoneman to ride back and bring out 
 the bundles of goods that were waiting. 
 
 There was nothing for us to do but sit by and 
 wait, inwardly watchful and anxious, outwardly 
 careless and indifferent. 
 
 All at once it came to me I had not thought of 
 it before that I was not dressed exactly as a white 
 maiden should be! And then it was that I wished 
 myself anywhere but there the center of regard 
 for those bold, piercing glances, that burned into me 
 like points of flame. Uncle Pliny, who had come 
 out to act as interpreter, was busy talking with two 
 of the youngest chiefs, and I thought he was explain- 
 ing about me, and my presence there. I looked 
 down upon my squaw toggery in disgust! A big 
 lump was in my throat, and I know that wretch 
 of a Danny was enjoying my discomfiture. 
 
 But I resolutely kept my gaze toward the camp, 
 and saw a score of our men coming out with bundles 
 of goods tobacco, and red-cloth, and strips of 
 "hoggy-meat." There was a splendid necklace of 
 shining brass medals for "Broke-nose," the sturdy 
 young chief, who was not stoical enough to repress 
 the visible signs of his satisfaction. The goods were 
 seized upon, and then, abruptly, as if they really 
 
SQUAW TOGGERY 235 
 
 were in haste to overtake their Arapahoe enemies, 
 the whole band rode away to the northeast. I am 
 sure they never guessed how glad we were to see 
 them go! 
 
 I knew that I would get a scolding from someone 
 for my reckless escapade; but it was not until 
 suppertime that Deacon Gentry said: 
 
 "I do not understand the headstrong and foolish 
 young people of to-day, and I must say I am 
 disappointed in you, Deya, you, the daughter of 
 Squire Randall. You knew you were transgressing 
 the rules of the camp when you left it this morning 
 without permission. It is not a good example that 
 you are setting for your brother. You might well 
 look to Hiram's wife for a pattern of what a young 
 woman should be. She is comely, sedate, and 
 gentle: no harum-scarum, to don a squaw's gar- 
 ments and go scampering off, breakneck style, to 
 get into no one knows what difficulties and troubles. 
 I will expect you to give me your word that from 
 henceforth you will conform to the regulations that 
 govern the others." 
 
 But Uncle Pliny came to my defense. 
 
 "Oh, shucks, Deacon! They's a difference in 
 girls, same as they is in boys. "Tisn't in the nater 
 o' things that she should be like Hiram's wife, ef 
 she tried to. It's all right for her to be herself! 
 
236 PILGRIMS OF THE PLAINS 
 
 An' I'll say right here she don't need no scolding 
 for to-day's work, that she don't. You don't 
 none o' you seem to reelize the good she done us by 
 that thar mischief-notion of her'n this morning. 
 
 "It's a altogether sure-enough fac' that ef she 
 hadn't run away, an' ef she hadn't been on the top 
 o' this here Rock, a-lookin' out with her spy-glass 
 jest when she was, an' ef she hadn't warned us, we'd 
 a been in a pretty kittle o' fish! Them Injuns 'd 
 a done us whatever o' harm they could. I know 
 'em of old! Ef they'd a got to this place afore we 
 did, they ain't no tellin' where we'd a been now. 
 An' as for her a-follerin' out thar whar them Injuns 
 was she couldn't a done nothin' better, ef she'd 
 set an' planned it for a week! Young * Broke-nose' 
 was jest a-waitin', not knowin' edzackly what he 
 did dare to do, when out she rides in that Indian 
 rig, an' they was stunned for a minute they said 
 so. They didn't know what to think, an' then they 
 was plum tickled, it was so cheeky an' smart! For 
 all you know, or anyone knows, that thar might've 
 been the feather that turned the scale! You can't 
 tell 'bout little seemingly-foolish things, what big 
 results come from them sometimes! An' this I 
 do know, that it didn't do no hurt. An' you are 
 not to be a-frettin' 'bout it no more, Miss Deya 
 'though the Deacon ain't so fur wrong, neither. 
 
SQUAW TOGGERY 237 
 
 'Twas resky, an* they ain't no call for you-uns to be 
 a-runnin' yourselves into danger, so you hearken 
 to the Deacon, an' don't you do no sech thing agin!" 
 Harshness is not half so effective in the way of 
 reproof as kindness is. Uncle Pliny's gentleness 
 made me realize the extent of my misdoing of 
 my insubordination. If it did all turn out for the 
 best, it was not at all because of me, nor was it 
 just chance. It was the beneficent hand of an over- 
 ruling Providence. "He maketh the wrath of man 
 to praise him," and the foolishness of a child he 
 turneth to account! 
 
 Taps are sounding, and my obedient candle 
 goes out! Heaven guard us, this night! 
 
CHAPTER XXIV 
 A QUESTION NOT ANSWERED 
 
 E?T night, after one of the gayest and liveliest 
 evenings we have had in camp, I cried myself 
 to sleep. I was homesick. I wanted my 
 sisters around me as of old. I wanted mother to 
 draw me close and smooth my hair. All night I 
 dreamed of home-folks. When I woke my first 
 breath was a sigh; and all day the quick-starting 
 tears have bothered me, at any inopportune time 
 at the table, and when folks are joking and laughing 
 about funny happenings, that do not seem funny 
 to me. 
 
 I have spent most of this day quietly here in the 
 carriage, writing, and trying to draw the picture 
 of the house at home. I can see it as it is this very 
 minute, with the sun going down behind the big 
 twin oak-trees, and the red of the sky shining bright 
 through the delicate foliage of the young maples; 
 the house with wings at the sides and the double 
 porches in front, all pearly white, set in the greenery 
 of trees and lawn; the row of bee-hives along the 
 path that leads down to the spring-branch; the 
 
A QUESTION NOT ANSWERED 239 
 
 orchard and garden, shut in by the moss-covered 
 rail-fence; and mother and the girls there picking- 
 strawberries for Sunday supper. 
 
 I remember, when we were all little tads, how we 
 children used to climb up on the bench in the wash- 
 house, to look at ourselves in the old cracked and 
 wavy mirror that hung there; how we looked and 
 laughed at the ridiculously distorted faces that were 
 reflected there, laughed just for the fun of laughing, 
 as children do. Our vanity was never hurt in the 
 least by the funny reflections that we saw. We 
 knew that the crookedness and the queerness was 
 all the fault of the mirror, that it was not in our 
 faces at all. 
 
 To-day, the face of Nature is bright and smiling, 
 but it does not seem so to me. Yet I know the fault 
 is not in Nature, but in the troubled, restless heart 
 that reflects it. 
 
 It is all very easy to say to myself, "I will pretend 
 that so and so never happened, and that will make 
 it as if it had never been," the problem is not to 
 be worked out in that easy fashion! I cannot pre- 
 tend to what I do not feel. The old open frank 
 friendliness is something that is not to be counter- 
 feited; and since I cannot bear to seem cold and 
 unkind, my only resource is to absent myself from 
 the circle where he is. For the past three days I 
 
240 PILGRIMS OF THE PLAINS 
 
 have hardly seen him at all. I have been busying 
 myself with sewing, and with writing letters, and 
 in the evening Danny and Farrell monopolize the 
 time. 
 
 Ernst is taking it very patiently; it may be that 
 he does not care so very much after all. No, I 
 know that is not true! He is honest and sincere, 
 and he would not have spoken as he did unless he 
 meant it with all his heart! He is only waiting till 
 I give him the opportunity to tell me what I do 
 not at all want to hear. 
 
 Life is beautiful enough as it is. To live and be 
 gay, is not that sufficient for the present? This is 
 not the time to be probing one's feelings, to be 
 questioning one's heart, "Do I love anybody 
 or do I not?" 
 
 Perhaps the perplexing question will somehow 
 settle itself, when the right time comes. There is 
 lots of time for all sorts of things to happen, before 
 we reach Santa Fe. 
 
 If I am frivolous, Danny is partly to be blamed 
 for it. It is impossible for anyone to be serious 
 and sensible and sedate, when Danny is around. 
 He is always doing or planning something, in the 
 way of excitement. To-day he has been digging in 
 the pits where those goods were cached, so long ago, 
 and he is proudly displaying a little handful of silver 
 
> QUESTION NOT ANSWERED 241 
 
 coins that he says he found under a barberry bush, 
 coins that were left there, certainly, twenty 
 years ago! And now he is organizing a party to 
 hunt for further treasure. John and I are to help 
 him, and are to have an interest in all that is 
 discovered. 
 
CHAPTER XXV 
 
 "EF WE KEEP THE NEEDLE P 9 IN TIN 9 
 TRUE" 
 
 THIS morning we started from the Caches 
 early, and did not make the usual noon 
 stop, as we needed more time here, to get 
 our wagons ready for the crossing of the Great 
 Arkansas river to-morrow. The camp is in a great 
 state of upsetness. Everyone is getting in everyone 
 else's way, and there is scolding and shouting, and 
 the clink-clank of hammers everywhere. 
 
 Tires and bolts must be tightened, new braces 
 set in, and all made taut, so there may be no break- 
 downs in mid-stream. This is always a dangerous 
 crossing. There are deep whirlpool-like holes, and 
 streaks of quicksand, and if the wagons stop for 
 just a moment, the sand piles up in heaps about 
 the wheels so it is almost impossible to start them 
 again. 
 
 I had a quarrel with Danny, this morning, about 
 a fragment of a sword which was all that he found 
 to pay him for his digging in the Caches. He 
 declared the weapon an old Spanish relic, and I 
 
KEEP NEEDLE P'INTIN' TRUE 243 
 
 wouldn't say that it was any such a thing. There 
 had been an inscription in the grooves of the blade, 
 but the letters were so rusted they didn't prove 
 anything. Danny keeps on arguing about it in the 
 most childish fashion, after everyone else is tired 
 of the subject; and he had invited himself into our 
 carriage, but I left it to him and John, and went to 
 walk with Uncle Pliny. 
 
 Uncle Pliny is having a lot of things to worry 
 him. Two of his mules were locoed, so they had 
 to be shot, and a barrel of molasses rolled over on 
 his foot, so he has to use a cane; and he is over- 
 anxious about the journey, mainly on my account 
 and Anna's. 
 
 "I done crossed these plains a mort o' times, but 
 never when they was women-folks along, an' I 
 cert'nly wish we could go round by Bent's Fort, 
 'stead o' by the Cimarron route. It's longer, an* 
 a heap rougher an' harder on the cattle, down 
 through the passes of the Raton mountains, but it's 
 shorely safer 'n the desert way 'The Journey of 
 Death,' the Mexicans call it, La Jornada de los 
 Muertos, 'count o' the many that has met death 
 thar. It don't deserve that name no more, for now 
 we know the way, an' travels it by the pints o' the 
 compass, same as ef it were the ocean. They ain't 
 no more lan'marks to go by 'n ef it were the sea, 
 
244 PILGRIMS OF THE PLAINS 
 
 no hills nor trees nor nothin', only jest a blank level 
 plain. But ef we keeps the needle p'intin' true, 
 we're reason'ble sure o' findin' water, an' somethin' 
 fer the stock to nibble at, 'nough to keep 'em 
 a-goin'. 
 
 "But it ain't none too pleasant at best! We 
 needn't expect nothin' else 'n ten days o' blazin' 
 heat, with the sun shinin' fit to blin' one, an' the 
 sand blowin' to rasp the skin to the raw, an' water 
 mighty skurse an' oncertain, an' bitter an' nasty 
 with alkali when you get it. An' that ain't the 
 wust of it, to my notion ! It's them pesky mirages, 
 them picters in the clouds a-makin' you think they's 
 water an' trees an' houses, by gum! when they 
 ain't nary one o' them, an' maybe you a-most 
 dyin' for a decent mouthful o' water! but, as I 
 said, none of these things is bad like they used to be. 
 
 "Anyhow, seein' as we've got Harrod to be our 
 Captain, we knows we won't come to no mortal 
 harm. He knows the country as few does, from 
 A to Izzard. Been through it a heap o' times, an* 
 them that's traveled with him says he kep' his 
 men to the mark as no one else could do, for all that 
 he were that jolly an' good-natured with 'em. He 
 ain't like that no more, but he's had enough to 
 make him different. 
 
 "I dealed with him when he had his store down 
 
KEEP NEEDLE P'INTIN' TRUE 245 
 
 in Santa Fe, an' we counted on him to do better by 
 us' n anyone else would. He shore made a mint o' 
 money them days, but what's money to a man, 
 when his day of trouble comes upon him? 
 
 "He had a coachman, that I know'd right well, 
 Hennery Good, his name were, an' he told me how 
 it come that Harrod's life went all to wrack an' 
 ruin. I cain't never see him, a-settin' a-broodin' 
 of an evenin' back in the shadders, away from the 
 fire, without I thinks of it over an' over. 
 
 "He was young an' gay, I know'd that for 
 myself in them days, married to the purtiest of 
 the Spanish girls, Isabel Olivarez. 
 
 "Life looked mighty rosy to them, I reckon! 
 They was dances an' parties an' goin's-on, day an' 
 night. An' all the time they was a volcano o' 
 trouble bubblin' under their feet, an' they not 
 heedin' it! 
 
 "They wa'n't a week that someone wa'n't clapped 
 into the calaboose, an' money squeezed out'n him, 
 'fore he was turned loose. But it was sech a reg'ler 
 thing that they all jest shrugged their shoulders, 
 an' paid the fines, an' chalked it up to profit an' 
 loss. An' so it come all onexpected at the last, 
 when the volcano busted out! Somethin' 'bout 
 taxes, it were, an' the Greasers went plum ravin' 
 crazy! They butchered the Gobernador, an' 
 
246 PILGRIMS OF THE PLAINS 
 
 hacked the head off n his body, an' kicked it up 
 an' down the streets ever'one tryin' to get at it ! 
 
 "Harrod an' his wife was a-ridin' into town, an' 
 their kerridge got caught between two mobs, in 
 front of Secretary Abrew's house. The devils was 
 after the Secretary an' they got him an' drug him 
 out'n the door, an' mistreated him shameful, slashin' 
 off his hands before they done killed him outright! 
 
 " Now what sort of a old fool be I, to go an' tell you 
 'bout sech things, as you ain't no call to be a-knowin' 
 of at all? But no more had she Harrod's wife! 
 Only she had to set there an' see it worse than 
 I could tell ! She couldn't be expected to stand 
 no sech as that; an' before the week was over she 
 were laid away in the graveyard on the hill, an' her 
 baby boy were buried with her. 
 
 "Harrod was dumb an' crazed, an' it was 
 Manuel Olivarez, kin to his wife, that had to do 
 ever'thin' for him. He sold out all of Harrod's 
 possessions on the quiet, an' sent the gold, sewed up 
 in rawhide, to Harrod's folks back East, an' then 
 Olivarez got Harrod persuaded to make the start 
 to leave Mexico; an' as he arranged it, Hennery 
 Good was to go with him all the way to Boston, 
 for company like, an' to look after him. 
 
 "An' that thar caravan, they was with, never got 
 no further 'n Whetstone Creek. The thieves fol- 
 
KEEP NEEDLE P'INTIN' TRUE 247 
 
 lered them from Santa Fe, thinkin' most likely that 
 Harrod had his gold with him. The wagons was 
 overhauled, an' their stock was took, an' thar they 
 was, out on the desert with no teams an' no food, 
 an' nothin' to hope for in the way of relief from 
 the Mexican officials if they should turn back. So 
 they jest kept on a-goin' fast as they could make it, 
 toward the States, God's country! 
 
 "Them three weeks on the desert was frightful, 
 but Hennery Good said the amazin' thing about it 
 was that Harrod stood it out better 'n any of 
 'em. Thirst an' heat an' starvation an' all was jest 
 the same as medicine to him. He planned ever'- 
 thin' they was to do, an' the way they was to go, 
 an' he'd have brought 'em all safe through, ef they 
 hadn't some of 'em wandered off after a mirage 
 one noontime when he was takin' siesta an' that 
 was the last of them, as fur as anyone knows. 
 
 "They was 'leven of 'em left when they was 
 picked up by the troops an' took back to Fort 
 Leaven worth. But Hennery Good he said Harrod 
 wa'n't never again like what he used to be. It was 
 like the heart inside of him was et out, an' only the 
 rough outside was left, an' mighty rough it was ! 
 Hennery 'd been a-workin' fur him fur two year 
 an' more, yit he turned him his back, 's if he never 
 know'd him, an' Hennery couldn't persuade him to 
 
248 PILGRIMS OF THE PLAINS 
 
 let him go with him no furder. 'Back to Santa Fe,' 
 were the only word Hennery could get out'n him! 
 
 "That thar Manuel Olivarez, the American Con- 
 sul, that was murdered in Santa Fe last year, was 
 the same Olivarez that helped Harrod in the time 
 of his trouble; an* I cain't help wonderin' ef the 
 Capt'n ain't got some plan in his head to make 
 them Mexicans suffer for that murder, an 5 all. But 
 it ain't none of my business, an' anyhow, we can 
 be sure that he won't get no one of us into trouble, 
 no matter what his private plans may be. He'll 
 look after us, proper and right, fur that is the land 
 of a man he is, an' he couldn't be no diff rent. An* 
 as I told the men, it ain't none of our business, 
 nohow!" 
 
 I had thought Captain Harrod's countenance 
 cold and stern and harsh, and now I knew that it 
 was love the death-of-love that had left its 
 mark upon his face. Love, that would never live 
 again ! 
 
 It truly does not take long for things to happen, 
 when the times are ripe for change! Everything 
 has happened! Everything is changed! The camp 
 has been full of soldiers, and they are gone, and 
 a dozen of our men, Ernst among the others, have 
 gone with them, out to Bent's Fort. 
 
KEEP NEEDLE P'INTIN' TRUE 249 
 
 It was almost supper-time, and I was writing, 
 when John rode in at a gallop to tell us that he had 
 heard, off in the northeast, the sound of a strange 
 bugle, and we could hear it, and the clatter of 
 horses' hoofs, and in a moment more a company 
 of cavalry swept into view! They told us that as 
 they were coming down from north of the trail, 
 they were intercepted by a white man, a runner 
 from Bent's Fort, who gave them news of the 
 desperate strait the Fort is in. It is surrounded 
 with Indians, who are dancing the Ghost-dance, and 
 threatening to burn everything and everybody. 
 
 A trusted half-breed had sneaked into the Fort, 
 and robbed it of all its ammunition and its store 
 of brandy ! The theft of the liquor is all that saved 
 the garrison, so they are saying, for the old chiefs 
 are giving themselves up to a drunken carousal, 
 and it will not be till the brandy is gone that the 
 attack on the Fort will be made, and the relief- 
 party may yet be able to reach the besieged ones 
 in time. 
 
 It is a special providence that the soldiers over- 
 took us before we crossed the Arkansas. If we 
 had not kept Sunday at the Caches, they would 
 have missed us by just twelve hours, and they 
 need the supplies that we were able to give them, 
 need them grievously, the powder and extra guns 
 
250 PILGRIMS OF THE PLAINS 
 
 that Captain Harrod has furnished from his own 
 wagons. 
 
 Farrell and Danny and Anna and I were in the 
 group gathered around our soldier guests, waiting 
 upon them, listening to them, answering their 
 questions, when I turned, to find Ernst by my 
 side. I do not remember that he spoke or explained 
 anything, but somehow, I understood that he was 
 going with the others to Bent's Fort, and knew that 
 he wished to speak with me. He took Anna's veil 
 from her arm, and laid it around my shoulders, and 
 together we walked down toward the river, and out 
 to the extremest point of a smooth silvery sand-bar 
 that curved far into the stream. 
 
 I tried to speak lightly and easily of trivial things, 
 but I could not; and Ernst seemed disinclined to 
 break the silence. 
 
 When I looked at him I saw he was gazing, not at 
 me, but out upon the darkening landscape, across 
 the mirroring waters. The sun was going down 
 behind a bank of purple cloud, and as it disappeared 
 Ernst turned and spoke in quiet tones that thrilled 
 me all the more because of their restraint. 
 
 "It is but a moment till they will call me to go, 
 and I cannot leave thee without saying what is in 
 my heart. I think you must have known, since 
 
KEEP NEEDLE P'INTIN' TRUE 251 
 
 that day at Pawnee Rock, when the words, the 
 thousand tender words that had been for so long 
 saying themselves over and over in my heart, 
 rushed from my lips! And I did not know that I 
 was speaking, till I saw the red blush come to your 
 cheek, till you turned away. 
 
 "Yet I was not sorry I rejoiced that you knew 
 the truth. I am asking of you nothing, Deya, my 
 heart's love except that you will remember that 
 my life and soul are yours, and will be yours while 
 life itself shall last. 
 
 "You are to give yourself no anxiety if you find 
 in your heart no answer for me. When the right 
 time comes the right answer will come to your lips. 
 The future will decide. For the present it is suffi- 
 cient that we are friends!" < 
 
 And as if we were friends, and only friends, he 
 took my hand and held it in gentle and reassur- 
 ing clasp; and we talked of other things of, 
 the beauty of the evening sky, of the course of the 
 caravan across the dreaded "Jornada," and of his 
 journey through the mountain passes beyond Bent's 
 Fort. 
 
 "Peterson knows that trail as well as anyone, 
 but he does not say just where we will meet the 
 caravan again; it will probably be some time within 
 a fortnight, and somewhere near the canyons of the 
 
PILGRIMS OF THE PLAINS 
 
 Ocate. There will be many evenings when we will 
 strain our ears to hear the sound of your sunset 
 signal guns; and when we will be scanning the 
 heavens to see the smoke of your evening camp- 
 fires rising above the rim of the canyon walls." 
 
 As we retraced our steps, going back to the camp, 
 the western sky shone bright with glowing color 
 rose and violet and amethyst and chrysoprase 
 and like a lonely island in the midst of that sea of 
 light there floated a broken bar of purple cloud. A 
 last golden glittering beam from below the horizon 
 streamed upward and flung itself across the cloud- 
 mass; and it was no more a lonely island, asleep on 
 the bosom of a mystic sea; it had become a glorious 
 city, with towers and groves, and there was a great 
 gateway through which marched an army with 
 scarlet banners flying. 
 
 Ernst drew me close to his side as we watched 
 the bright vision change and melt and dissolve into 
 the mysterious twilight. And as we stood there I 
 was conscious of some change within myself. Some 
 new influence, strange, mysterious, intangible, was 
 stirring my heart's pulses as he spoke. 
 
 "It is like a vision of fairyland! And did you 
 know, Deya, that love has its beginning in fairyland? 
 That is what the German haus-frau tells us! A 
 true saying it is, yes, I know, for I have proved it 1 
 
KEEP NEEDLE P'INTIN' TRUE 253 
 
 "On the Mississippi, that evening of fairy-like 
 splendor! Do you remember that night, Deya? 
 The white glory of the moonlight was upon the 
 earth on wooded bank and swirling waters, 
 
 as the "Anna-Eve" drifted down with the tide. 
 And the eddies swung the boat into a thicket of 
 locust bloom, and the air was heavy with its 
 fragrance. 
 
 "Among that boat's company was a frail boy 
 and his sister. And that night they were out on 
 deck, and she knelt by her brother's couch; her 
 arm supported him, and in her eyes as she looked 
 upon him was love unutterable." 
 
 He had been speaking almost as if it were indeed 
 a fairy story that he was telling, but his voice began 
 to tremble with a deeper note. 
 
 "It was then and there that I gave my heart 
 into that maiden's keeping, to be hers, and hers 
 only, forever. 
 
 "Since that time we have traveled together 
 she and I through an enchanted land. And so 
 sweet a thing our friendship was, I could not tell 
 her of the dearer hope I cherished in my heart, and 
 she did not guess, though to others it was plain 
 but at last she knew! Her heart was asleep in her 
 breast; it was not in my power to awaken it to life, 
 
 perhaps never " 
 
254 PILGRIMS OF THE PLAINS 
 
 The bugle sounded. The soldiers were mounted 
 and ready to go, they were waiting for him. I 
 caught his hand in both of mine, I may have spoken 
 to him, I do not know only he took me in his 
 arms I felt his heart beating beneath my cheek, 
 for just a little moment. He whispered my name 
 
 "Deya?" It was a question the one question! 
 His eyes sought mine in a long, steadfast, sober, 
 tender look, and under that direct compelling gaze I 
 might almost have said the words he longed to hear 
 
 but I did not. And then he bent his head and 
 whispered, " Auf wiedersehen!" And I answered 
 him in the dear words of farewell, that mean so 
 much more than just farewell, "Auf wiedersehen!" 
 
 I watched them ride away down the trail, till 
 my eyes were blinded with tears. 
 
CHAPTER XXVI 
 I MIGHT HAVE PROMISED 
 
 WE crossed the Arkansas this morning. 
 Franz Bach and a select body of horse- 
 men went first, setting stakes where the 
 water was shallowest, to mark the route the wagons 
 were to follow. John had permission to go with 
 this "party of the reconnaissance," and I mounted 
 Aguilita and followed as far as the bank. Franz 
 Bach saw me there and called out to me to come on, 
 and he would look after me, and so he did, keeping 
 his hand on Aguilita's bridle till we were safely on 
 the other side. Some of the others were not so 
 fortunate as we. Iggy Beauchemie's horse got into 
 a deep hole, and the boy only had time to slip his feet 
 out of the stirrups, when the poor beast ceased 
 struggling and went down, and Iggy had to be 
 dragged out by the hair of his head, quite uncon- 
 scious for a few minutes, but nobody made any 
 fuss over him, after he began to come to, and he 
 seemed to think it an affair of little moment, except 
 as he regretted the loss of his "pinto/' 
 
256 PILGRIMS OF THE PLAINS 
 
 Danger is a constant companion, and Death is no 
 stranger to these men of the plains! They hold 
 their lives as carelessly as if each had lives to spare, 
 as if they could lose one or two or three 
 and still live on! My pony and I stood on the 
 south bank of the river, and awaited the moving of 
 the caravan. The scene was like a great picture 
 painted all in tones of gray. The arching sky was 
 pearl-gray; "the stretch of prairie, green-gray; the 
 curving sweep of the river, blue-gray; and the gold- 
 gray sands were at my feet. But when the glowing 
 edge of the sun cut into the eastern horizon, this 
 "Gray-Dawn" picture was withdrawn, and another 
 was substituted "Morning on the Arkansas." 
 
 Across the river the caravan was in motion. I 
 watched the wagons as they went down, with a 
 great splashing, into the water almost deep 
 enough to flood the boxes. They crossed as fast as 
 the doubled teams could pull them through, then 
 up the bank with a long, strong pull, and a pull all 
 together ! 
 
 They have taken us along the road at a great 
 rate, to-day. We are well out into the desert 
 not so very far from the Sand Creek Crossing. 
 This is the desert, as Uncle Pliny had described it 
 white-hot sand, withered sage-brush, prickly-pear, 
 grasshoppers, lizards, toads, centipedes, spiders 
 
I MIGHT HAVE PROMISED 257 
 
 of amazing bigness and ferocity, and snakes, more 
 than I ever care to see again! But we are not 
 suffering for water, nor are we likely to if Uncle 
 Pliny's guess proves good. 
 
 "The Arkansaw's higher 'n I ever ricollect to see 
 it at this season, an* that's a good sign fur thar 
 bein' right smart o' water along the springs o' the 
 Cimarron." 
 
 Even where the pools have been filled up by 
 sand we find water just below the surface, so we 
 have plenty for the stock, and as for ourselves there 
 is water in the water-kegs. But this we will use 
 sparingly, as we can hardly expect again to find 
 water untainted with alkali, until the "Jornada" 
 is passed. 
 
 Our experiences so far have not been unpleasant. 
 In the middle of the day the sun was, as Himey 
 said, "hot enough to draw a blister," but as soon as 
 the sun was out of sight a cool sweet wind blew 
 across the sands, and in that instant everyone 
 forgot all about the heat. The men are romping 
 and wrestling, and dancing to the inspiring strains 
 of Twank's squeaky little fiddle, but Joe-Lu de- 
 serted by his foster-brothers, Auguste and Franchy 
 has no part in the merriment or music. He had 
 never before been separated from his two friends 
 for a single day, and made ready to go with them 
 
258 PILGRIMS OF THE PLAINS 
 
 to Bent's Fort as a matter of course, but Franchy 
 bade him stay with the caravan. 
 
 "We be back in two week. De caravan need 
 you! More special you an' dat Banff dog. You 
 keep watch by de carriage of dem ladies, dat not'ing 
 happen while we be gone!" 
 
 And last night Joe-Lu took his station rolled up 
 in his blanket under the wagon next to ours, and 
 the gray wolf-dog walked up and down beside him. 
 
 There is no unusual sound or movement in the 
 camp that Banff. does not hear and notice. If we 
 but lift our curtains, there is Banff, alert and eager 
 to do what may be required of him. Joe-Lu 
 because it was Franchy who put us in his charge 
 would die before he would let harm come to us, and 
 Banff would be glad to sink those long white fangs 
 of his in the throat of any intruder, if Joe-Lu should 
 give the word. 
 
 There is not a thing to be afraid of, but it does 
 give one a comfortable feeling, nevertheless, to know 
 that they are near. 
 
 Banff's guardianship is going to be a little in- 
 convenient sometimes. It was only just now that 
 Franz Bach came with a message from the Deacon, 
 and Joe-Lu had to spring up in a hurry and catch 
 the dog by the collar, and hold him, while Bach 
 delivered his message. The Deacon had sent word 
 
I MIGHT HAVE PROMISED 259 
 
 that we were to blow out our candle and go to sleep, 
 as the caravan would be on the move by midnight, 
 and travel all night, to try to make Sand Creek by 
 breakfast-time. 
 
 One's heart is a queer and incomprehensible 
 thing. It says one thing to-day and something else 
 to-morrow. Maybe there is no real depth of feeling 
 in me. The things of the passing moment mean so 
 much to me. "Out of sight, out of mind!" That 
 is the way it seems to be with me. Really and truly 
 I am relieved that Ernst is not with us and there 
 was one moment when I might almost have said the 
 words he longed to have me say, when I might have 
 promised him everything ! And if I had, I know I 
 would be repenting it, this minute, and forgetting it, 
 as fast as ever I could. I don't love him! Liking is 
 not loving! I don't want to think about love, as yet. 
 I want to be just careless and care-free, and I don't 
 want to step off into the deep waters, even though 
 I know there will be someone's strong arm to sustain 
 me. I'd rather trifle and play along the shore. 
 
 There! I am not going to trouble myself any 
 more about the future! "Never trouble trouble, 
 till trouble troubles you," that is what Hiram 
 often says, and I am sure it is sensible advice. 
 
 Anna does not guess what is going on in my 
 
260 PILGRIMS OF THE PLAINS 
 
 thoughts. We are together, day after day, and 
 at night she takes me on her arm as if I were her 
 younger sister, but I really know very little about 
 her thoughts with these calm quiet people one 
 can never tell and she doesn't puzzle herself with 
 my problems, I am sure. 
 
 She is singing the old "Barbara Allen" ditty 
 "Cruel Barbara Allen." It is just a little appro- 
 priate to my own state of mind, but I do not give 
 her credit for knowing that. 
 
 She has folded up her pretty patchwork quilt, 
 now almost done, but she has still her ablutions to 
 perform, and her hair to brush and braid, so I do not 
 have to lay aside my book for a long time yet. 
 
 ^ "li t .rf- 
 
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 1* r 1* o J 
 
 IO\ ~ 'J 
 
 i i r 1 1 r 
 
 r 
 
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 v4/ * * 
 
 r r 
 
 I^J ' tn 
 
 ! 1 , 1^1 1 
 
 
 MM 
 
 
 i r_ 
 
 
 
 
 1 ^ 
 
 ] N J 
 
 N i 
 
 I \(\\ " ' ^^ & 
 
 8*. 
 
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 J 1 
 
 
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 1 p*n 1 , F*i r- 1--, 
 
 1 xs Jl 
 
 i j i h 
 
 N 1 J J M K-l-a- 
 
 U 'A hard-hearted creature that I was 
 To slight one who loved me so dearly. 
 I wish I had been more kinder to him, 
 The time of his life when he was near me/ 
 
I MIGHT HAVE PROMISED 261 
 
 So this maid she then did die, 
 And desired to be buried by him: 
 And repented herself before she died, 
 That ever she did deny him. 
 
 " * O mother, mother, make my bed, 
 And make it soft and narrow. 
 Since my love died for me today, 
 I'll die for him tomorrow. 
 Farewell, farewell, ye virgins all, 
 And shun the fault I fell in. 
 Henceforth take warning by the fate 
 Of cruel Barbara Allen!'" 
 
CHAPTER XXVII 
 WAIFS OF THE DESERT 
 
 ^ a T HE desert- journey is over, at last! The 
 "Jornada" is crossed! It has all been like 
 
 A a long nightmare. We have traveled mostly 
 at night, have taken our meals anyhow and any 
 time, and have slept when we could. Day and night 
 have run indistinguishably into each other, so that 
 Sunday came and went without our knowing it; 
 and now, I think, no one is sure about the day and 
 date, only the Captain says this is the fourth day of 
 the month the Fourth of July so we all call 
 it that. 
 
 Since midnight the men have been celebrating, 
 as good Americans should, firing guns, having a 
 sham battle, Colonists against the Britishers. It is 
 a wonder that no one was injured in the dangerous 
 game. 
 
 If this is Wednesday, the fourth, it is a week and 
 two days since we forded the Arkansas. That first 
 day and night on the desert was not so bad, but 
 when the sun came up on Wednesday morning, a 
 furious hot wind came up with it, and we were 
 
WAIFS OF THE DESERT 263 
 
 engulfed and smothered in a flying cloud of sand. 
 It struck us in the face, like a stinging whip-lash. 
 Our eyes were smarting and blinded by it. Our 
 throats were dry and choked. Our teeth gritted 
 on it. We breathed sand, ate sand, and drank 
 sand! 
 
 The oxen could not face the terrible blasts. They 
 turned this way and that. We lost all track of the 
 course we were taking, and did not know but we 
 were miles from where we should be! At noon the 
 Captain called a halt, and sent out two scouting 
 parties, to try and find Sand Creek Crossing, or 
 any place where there was water for the stock. 
 They had not had a drop since midnight of the 
 night before! 
 
 It was a desperate proceeding to send the men 
 away from the caravan. The air was so thick with 
 driving sand one could see nothing at two rods' 
 distance, and we had to keep firing the big gun, so 
 that those who left us might find their way back 
 again. And we were right near Sand Creek all the 
 time, and did not know it. 
 
 Uncle Pliny's party had been gone only a little 
 time, when we heard their guns answering ours. 
 It was the signal meaning, "All is well!" three 
 shots fired in quick succession and then three more. 
 
 The oxen were yoked in and the wagons moved 
 
264 PILGRIMS OF THE PLAINS 
 
 out to meet the horsemen, and soon we reached the 
 watering place. The teams went steadily enough, 
 till they "smelled water," and then they dashed 
 ahead, like wild and crazy things ! Bellowing, they 
 plunged into shallow pools, dragging the loaded 
 wagons after them. Some of the animals were 
 knocked down and trampled on, some of the wagons 
 were overturned, but no one stopped to set things 
 right. The oxen drank till they were full to burst- 
 ing, and the men drank with them, out of the same 
 puddles, drank and drank as if that warm and 
 dirty water were the most delicious draught in the 
 world ! 
 
 We were eating our sand-peppered flap-jacks, at 
 the meal that we called dinner, when Danny came 
 over to tell us about six starving Mexicans that 
 Uncle Pliny had just discovered, crouched under the 
 bushes a little ways down stream. They were in 
 a most pitiful plight, only two out of the six 
 being able to walk without assistance. One of 
 them Jose-Marie, they called him was raving 
 in delirium, and had to be brought in on a stretcher. 
 
 Danny and Hiram and the Deacon went over to 
 see them, and John and I, unobtrusively, followed. 
 We found them half lying, half sitting, propped up 
 with bales of goods, and Uncle Pliny was feeding 
 them with a spoon, turn and turn about. 
 
WAIFS OF THE DESERT 265 
 
 The curiosity with which we regarded them 
 was tinctured with something like hostility they 
 were so villainous-looking! Their blood-shot eyes 
 gleamed wickedly from under their black brows. 
 Their hair was matted with dirt. They were almost 
 naked, and their bones seemed breaking through 
 their parched and dried-up skin. 
 
 Arandez, the leader among them, told how they 
 came to be thus alone on the desert. They belonged 
 with the caravan that left Westport two weeks 
 before we did. They had gone as far as McNee's 
 Creek, when these six men left their camp to look 
 after some stock that had strayed. They came 
 back four hours later to find there was no camp! 
 There was nothing of the caravan but a pile of 
 charred and blackened scraps, where the wagons 
 had been burned, nothing of the men but a pile 
 of bodies pierced by innumerable arrows, bodies 
 already torn by the wolves. The arrows told the 
 story a band of Apaches had surprised the camp. 
 
 These men not stopping to mourn their lost 
 companions turned back again to the desert. 
 There was no lack of water, and for food there were 
 snakes and grasshoppers, and the apples of the 
 prickly-pear. Day by day they grew weaker and 
 weaker but did not think of giving up until that 
 blinding sand-storm struck them! 
 
266 PILGRIMS OF THE PLAINS 
 
 "Then we say, 'It is no use! Let us die!' And 
 even so we would have perished there, had not the 
 Americanos come at the moment, to rescue us!" 
 
 They seem most grateful, and anxious to make 
 themselves useful in every way possible. Our 
 people are saying they do not know how we 
 would have crossed the Jornada without their help. 
 Having been over the route so lately, they knew 
 where to find the water-pools, so that we were well 
 supplied at every camping place. 
 
 "It's plum clever the way we sashayed across this 
 here desert this time," says Uncle Pliny; "quickest 
 time on record's far's I know." 
 
 He takes the credit to himself, for was it not his 
 Mexicans who showed us the way? Uncle Pliny 
 has never liked Mexicans, but these people he found, 
 lost and suffering, and saved them from starvation, 
 and that makes a difference! He looks after their 
 comfort in every way, and has taken the decentest 
 looking one among them, Ignacio el Viejo, to help 
 him, as clerk, in his grocery store. 
 
CHAPTER XXVIII 
 SUCH ARE THE RULERS OVER US 
 
 NO more dreary, barren, everlastingly level 
 lands, no more wandering, uncertain, 
 shallow, sluggish streams and stagnant 
 pools! 
 
 The noisy little rivers foam and fret, deep down 
 in their boulder-strewn, rugged channels. We drink 
 from fountains that gush out, sparkling and cold as 
 ice, from crevices in the solid rock. 
 
 High hills obstruct our path, from whose summits 
 we see the abrupt ledges of the mesa-cliffs, 
 naked spurs of rock, and isolated rounded knolls 
 and mounds. And little valleys lie spread out with 
 a carpet of green, and here and there are gooseberry 
 bushes and wild currants, and little scraggly mul- 
 berry trees, and cedars, really and truly trees ! 
 
 Within a few days we will be entering the gateway 
 of the foot-hills, where we are expecting to meet 
 those of our friends who went to the relief of Bent's 
 Fort. Uncle Pliny persists in talking of them, 
 of Ernst Breunner, more than anyone else! There 
 is a tone of reproach in his voice as if he were trying 
 
268 PILGRIMS OF THE PLAINS 
 
 to make me think well of Ernst. I do think well of 
 him of course I do ! I would be the most ungrate- 
 ful girl in the world if I didn't! But just the same, 
 the world is not all dark to me because of his absence. 
 It is an ever-new delight to gallop over the hard 
 white road in the early morning, when the wind 
 blows fresh and strong. And at noon I lie lazily 
 back on the cushions and watch the changing pic- 
 tures in the sky, the miracle of the mirages, 
 as they come and go. And when the day is done, 
 what joy to see the stars come out, and feel the cool 
 breath of evening on my cheek! I am not thinking 
 at all of the future. 
 
 Yesterday, late in the afternoon, John and I were 
 riding with Danny and Franz Bach, when we saw 
 on the plain, far in the distance, scattered groups 
 of moving dark dots. Danny is the possessor of 
 a spy-glass of quite enormous proportions, and by 
 its aid we were able to prove to ourselves that this 
 was a herd, and a large one, of tame cattle the 
 first we have seen since we left Westport. 
 
 We rode post-haste back to the caravan, and 
 reported. The wagons were halted, and the big 
 guns were staked down, loaded to the muzzle, and 
 fired, both together. Instantly we saw through the 
 telescope a mounted horseman appear on the crest 
 
THE RULERS OVER US 269 
 
 of the Rabbit-ear Mound, some six miles distant. 
 Helter-skelter down the steep declivity the horse- 
 man plunged, and in the next minute our men were 
 mounted and riding at their swiftest pace to meet 
 him. By the time the dusty cavalcade returned 
 with the stranger in their midst, the camp had been 
 formed and the stock picketed out, and everything 
 made ready for Sunday. 
 
 We had supposed that the stranger would be 
 nothing more than a cibolero, an ordinary common 
 stupid herder; but we found him to be, instead, a 
 Spanish gentleman, the owner of many herds, 
 and the proprietor of an extensive estate thirty 
 miles to the south of us. That he accounted himself 
 a person of some importance was evident at a glance. 
 His fancy cloth jacket was richly braided, and his 
 striped trousers were split at the side, from hip to 
 ankle, to show the snowy white drawers, calzon- 
 cillos, that were worn underneath. His zerape was 
 of the finest quality, his sombrero a very marvel, 
 bedecked with silver braid and bullion balls and 
 tassels. 
 
 With a grandiose wave of the hand he informed 
 us that he was sole owner of all the region round 
 about us a paltry hundred thousand acres ! 
 
 "Cattle also, so they are not to be counted! 
 Yet am I poor! The thieves whom I hire rob me 
 
270 PILGRIMS OF THE PLAINS 
 
 without reason not by littles, but to the half of 
 all they touch. It is so always ! But two days ago 
 I come up from San Miguel, to take them unawares. 
 They also have the surprise for me! I find the fattest 
 and finest of my herd on the way to the market at 
 Taos. The stout fellows whom I bring with me, 
 they make the thieving wretches to pay in the blood 
 from their backs, for their treachery to their master. 
 Always so it has been! Always so it will be! No 
 importa! It is not important enough to anger one's 
 self, especially as it is not to be helped. Per done 
 Vd. I beg you to excuse me, that I speak of my 
 own affairs, when I should wish to ask what can 
 I do for you. I am yours to command in all 
 things." 
 
 Our men were only waiting the opportunity to 
 inquire about matters in Santa Fe, about the 
 condition of the markets, were our prospects for 
 profits good? etc. 
 
 In answer to the Deacon's questions, our friend, 
 the Senor Farrias, replied: 
 
 "Yes, the government, it is still as it was last 
 year. Armijo still holds the reins of power. For 
 cierto! Yes, certainly, it is the same Armijo, as 
 like to these robber hirelings of mine as if they had 
 been born of the same mother, at the same birth! 
 Si, si, the people call him thief, sheep-stealer, 
 
THE RULERS OVER US 271 
 
 that is the reputation he has. The people of Mexico 
 groan, but still they endure! 
 
 "It is of God's mercy that he is now ill, very 
 ill, so for weeks he has not left the Palacio. Per- 
 haps poisoned by the Gobernadora! That is what 
 they are saying. Es muy posible! It is very pos- 
 sible! What she is everybody knows. She would 
 do the deed and boast of it. Such are the rulers, 
 whom we have over us ! Yes, Senor, the collecting 
 of the duties is as usual five hundred dollars for 
 every wagon that enters Santa Fe, whether it be 
 full or empty, whether it carries calico or silk, no 
 matter what. It is injustice, thievery, but there is 
 nothing to be done, except by cunning to outwit the 
 thieves. Si, si, it can be done, so the toll they take 
 will not be so excessive. See you then! I give you 
 this advice! 
 
 "They will send out * customs-inspectors' from 
 Santa Fe to meet you; you cannot tell where, but 
 somewhere near Moro or Las Bagas. Before they 
 come, you repack all your goods in the biggest, 
 stoutest wagons, two loads in one wagon, burning 
 those you cast away. So you must do if you would 
 save yourself from extortion. Even so you will be 
 paying twice too much, and that thief Armijo will 
 pocket the half of it, as a matter of course! 
 Prices? They should be good. Santa Fe is full 
 
272 PILGRIMS OF THE PLAINS 
 
 even now of merchants, from Chihuahua, and 
 Socorro, and Zacatecas, even from the City of 
 Mexico, all waiting the arrival of La Caravana. 
 
 "For, look you! there is a rumor that Santa Fe 
 and Mexico is to be closed to the Americanos. 
 Santo Dios! Yes, it is what they say! It will be 
 the ruin of our merchants! Goods we must have, 
 and of whom can we buy if not of the Americanos? 
 So our merchants will be all the more eager to buy 
 while they can*. They will dispute with each other 
 who shall bid highest for what you have to sell. 
 Profits there will be of a surety. This is the common 
 gossip at San Miguel." 
 
 As the crowd of our men pressed around the 
 stranger, Arandez the Mexican was pushed to the 
 front. For a moment Senor Farrias and Arandez 
 stared at each other, and then the big Mexican 
 slipped back again into the crowd. Farrias shrugged 
 his shoulders, like a Frenchman. 
 
 "These mongrels are altogether evil, but that 
 big fellow must surely be of the worst! I have seen 
 him I cannot say where but it would be no 
 good that one could know of him!" 
 
 Our new friend, Senor Farrias, stayed with us 
 over night, leaving camp at daybreak to ride across 
 to his puesto, his ranch-house, only twenty 
 miles away ! He must have met some of his ciboleros, 
 
THE RULERS OVER US 273 
 
 for they made their appearance in time for an invi- 
 tation to dinner! They were rough-looking fellows, 
 but our Mexicans fraternized with them at once. 
 
 Uncle Pliny did not like it that his Ignacio should 
 have helped himself, and his new-found friends, from 
 the liquor casks. Uncle Pliny sells liquor with as 
 little compunction as if it were molasses, but he will 
 not sell it "on a Sunday." This did not trouble 
 Ignacio. He just went and helped himself 
 filled his jug and took it over to the ravine where 
 he and his friends had taken up their quarters. 
 
 "They was havin' a reg'ler jamboree, a-fightin' 
 an' carryin' on at a great rate," Uncle Pliny said. 
 "I ain't used to puttin' up with no sech didoes, an' 
 so I told 'em! Them stranger fellows was that 
 obstreperous, I had to put a bee in their bunnit, 
 an' I jest sent 'em to the right-about, long 'bout 
 their business! They went at the first say-so! I 
 dono how come Ignacio to do sech a thing, to reg- 
 'lerly steal that liquor like he done he has been 
 right steady and dependable, but I reckon the 
 scoldin' I gin him will be a lesson to him!" 
 
 Perhaps it will! 
 
 The night- wind is shaking the curtains. The 
 candles are almost burned out. In the sky there 
 is not the faintest glimpse of moon or star. 
 
CHAPTER XXIX 
 
 A FACE I LONG TO SEE 
 
 F* I "1HE past two days have been hateful and 
 horrid. All other days have been hot, 
 
 JL but these have been cold, and there has 
 been a bitter, sulphurous taint in the air. All 
 other days have been bright with sunshine, but 
 these have been dark and gloomy and depressing. 
 
 Last evening the trail led through a narrow, tor- 
 tuous defile a ragged wound cut deep into the breast 
 of the hill. On either side of us the rocks were red 
 and blotched and slimy, crowding us so closely 
 it seemed that they must surely draw together to 
 crush us ! Our camp for the night was made out on 
 the open plain, but through the hours of darkness, 
 even in my dreams, I could hear the roaring of the * 
 blast as it swept down through the canyon. 
 
 There were two consciousnesses alive within me. 
 I knew all that was really and truly going on in the 
 camp, yet, at the same time, I was deep sunk in 
 dreaming. Strange and fantastic images presented 
 themselves before me, and flaming outbursts of color, 
 dissolving, changing, melting into each other, till 
 
A FACE I LONG TO SEE 275 
 
 I was dazzled, distraught! Then there was no color, 
 no light in all the world, only utter darkness. And 
 there was no solid earth, naught but heaving chaos, 
 a tossing, muttering, viscid, slimy flood. I was 
 trying to cross its treacherous surface, and there 
 was no firm, safe spot where I could, for a moment, 
 rest me. And hovering over me, following me, was 
 a black, cloud-like, formless thing a malignant, 
 poisonous, altogether-evil presence. I felt it settling 
 around me, I felt its clammy touch on my brow, 
 I writhed myself free, and in some strange manner 
 partly gliding and partly flying I fled fast 
 and far! Then the earth slid away from beneath 
 me, and I felt myself falling whirling down and 
 down, through unfathomable abysses! 
 
 The horror of it awoke me. I was cold with 
 terror! My limbs were strained and rigid; my 
 hands clenched so tightly, it was pain to unclose 
 them! It was pain to move! 
 
 Perhaps I ought not to write this, only somehow 
 writing helps to make me realize that it was, after 
 all, only a dream, and dreams are nothing. 
 
 Anna is an inspiration to cheerfulness. To-night, 
 when it came time to make ourselves ready for 
 supper, she laid out my pink sprigged lawn for me 
 to wear, and for herself, her next-to-best white 
 
276 PILGRIMS OF THE PLAINS 
 
 dimity. Pretty clothes have their effect upon the 
 wearer. A gay and unruffled state of mind seems 
 naturally to go with a gay and beruffled gown. So, 
 as I contemplated my crispy, starched ruffles, I smiled 
 and forgot that I had been foolish enough to let 
 foolish dreams trouble me. 
 
 We have had such a quiet and pleasant evening. 
 I worked at my tatting I have yards of it done, 
 and haven't the faintest idea what I will use it for, 
 and Anna was busy with her embroidery. She 
 is never, never idle! I thought she would be content 
 to sit with folded hands, for a time at least, when 
 her quilt was done and put away; but she found 
 something else to take its place at once a fine 
 white apron, with an intricate pattern of eyelets 
 and dots. I suppose she would think it downright 
 wicked if her hands were not always employed. I 
 never see her without she has her lap full of work 
 quilt, or apron, or something. 
 
 If I were to write what I am really thinking, I would 
 write Ernst Ernst a name, to serve as a charm, to 
 keep troubled thoughts away. There is a face I long 
 to see, a fine, strong, honest, kindly face, and 
 eyes within whose depths a true, enduring affection 
 beams. If I might only lay my head against Ernst's 
 breast, if I might feel his hand enclosing mine ! 
 
CHAPTER XXX 
 BANDITS BY THE FIRE 
 
 WE are nearing civilization ! We passed two 
 dwelling houses yesterday. One was a 
 long, low, rambling ranch-house, built of 
 "dobe," the other a little Pueblo-Indian hut. The 
 ranch-house was three miles from the trail. Franz 
 Bach said: 
 
 "It iss bedder dot it was furder dan t'ree miles J 
 You can schmell him, dis close! Leon Darasse live 
 dere wid his pigs and goats! Schmell! Oh, my! 
 De dirtiest house effer was!" 
 
 After this strong recommendation, we refrained 
 from riding across to buy butter, as we had purposed 
 doing. 
 
 The second dwelling was such a strange little 
 mud-covered hole in the ground that we would not 
 have recognized it for a human habitation if the 
 young proprietor had not stopped us. He had 
 everything to sell chickens and eggs, luscious 
 melons, green string-beans, peas and peppers, and 
 cows'-milk cheese and butter. Of all the banquets 
 that were ever served! Words cannot do it jus- 
 
278 PILGRIMS OF THE PLAINS 
 
 tice! But we showed our appreciation there was 
 no doubt on that score. 
 
 While we were taking our nooning, "Juan" let 
 us go where we would and see all there was to 
 see. He had a little drove of hogs, a little flock of 
 sheep, a cow and a hah*, and a burro almost as big 
 as Banff. 
 
 A mountain stream that runs across the valley to 
 join the Canadian-fork has been turned into par- 
 allel ditches to water his bit of ground, which he 
 plows with a pointed, crooked stick, drawn by the 
 burro and the cow. 
 
 I was making a sketch of the wattled, mud-smeared 
 cottage, when I thought I heard someone moving 
 inside. I was curious to know what the interior of 
 such a place could be like, so I boldly enough knocked 
 at the rude lintel. 
 
 No one answered, but I saw at the further end of 
 the darkened room a brown and bashful beauty, 
 peeping at me from behind her hands a young 
 Pueblo Indian girl. She wouldn't come out to me, 
 and she wouldn't invite me to enter! I ran back to 
 the carriage and got a bead collar that I did not 
 care for, and a little mirror, to give her. Behold the 
 Greeks bearing gifts! The little brown lady was so 
 excited that she quite forgot she had ever been 
 afraid. 
 
BANDITS BY THE FIRE 279 
 
 The place was cleaner than some white folks' 
 houses that I have seen. On one side were the 
 grinding-stones, metates, and neatly ranged on the 
 shelves above were the vases and jars, ollas, and 
 the gourds, guajes. On the other side was a low 
 platform covered with home- woven blankets. Above 
 this platform hung all her finery, spread out to show 
 to the best advantage, the deerskin jacket and 
 leggings, the coarse but snowy chemise, and the 
 scanty bit of scarlet cloth that served her for a 
 skirt, and, most important of all, the twenty or 
 thirty strands of blue and white beads that made 
 up her fiesta necklace. 
 
 The little hut was a "home" better than many 
 a palace; for love was there! 
 
 I could understand quite a little of what she tried 
 to say, enough to know that she and her adored 
 esposo had been church-married, by the priest. This 
 was their second year upon the rancho. "They ; 
 sell mucho to the Americanos! Soon be rich, 
 go where the madre live down near old Pecos, 
 si, si!" 
 
 She asked me if I were Senora a married lady! 
 I shook my head emphatically, but she looked 
 roguish, and nodded and said, Pronto ? and laughed 
 delightedly. To change the subject I took the 
 ribbons from my hair, and tied them on her thick 
 
PILGRIMS OF THE PLAINS 
 
 black braids but this terminated the interview 
 abruptly. The scarlet ribbons had to be shown to 
 her "Juan" at once. 
 
 The caravan passed on, and Adam and Eve were 
 left to each other's company, in their Eden, with 
 the pigs and the sheep, and the cow and a half, and 
 the tiny burro ! richer in their possessions than 
 many who count their wealth by the hundreds of 
 thousands. 
 
 This is the region of the great Rockies. The 
 mountains will henceforth be always in our sight, 
 the guardians of our way. 
 
 I forget how, many days ago it was when I first 
 saw the distant mountain range, and knew it for 
 what it was. I had been watching the clouds hi 
 the west, glowing under the last beams of the 
 quickly vanishing sun. They grew pale, and melted 
 into nothingness. Only the pallor of the twilight 
 sky remained, and, lying low on the horizon, a 
 dark edge of purple cloud. I noticed something 
 strange in this, for while other clouds were moving, 
 dissolving, changing with every moment, this cloud 
 did not change. Its softly serrated outline kept 
 its form, and still showed its solid bulk against the 
 darkening sky, till the first star-beams were kindled 
 there. And then I knew that it was no cloud, 
 
BANDITS BY THE FIRE 281 
 
 indeed, but the lofty crest of the far-away Rocky 
 Mountains. 
 
 It was late this afternoon when we entered the 
 canon of the Canadian. The river brawls along 
 between high splintered walls, over a miry bed, 
 bestrewn with water- worn rounded boulders. The 
 track we follow cannot be called a road. There are 
 heaps of piled-up stones where one would think it 
 impossible for wagons to go. In trying to avoid 
 these we get into quagmires that threaten to hold 
 us in their slimy clutch forever, in spite of the best 
 efforts of our teams. The river itself turns des- 
 perately first to this side of the canyon and then to 
 that. We have crossed it eleven times, and we are 
 not out of the canyon yet! 
 
 We were making what haste we could, hoping to 
 get through it before time to go into camp, when the 
 caravan came to a sudden halt. One of the foremost 
 wagons had smashed itself completely, and in a 
 place where there was no room for another team to 
 pass! So here we are! And so we had to make 
 camp, strung out along the trail, in a horribly 
 unprotected position. 
 
 Our carriage is in a sheltered corner, a little nook 
 in the eastern wall of the canyon, near a clump of 
 pinon and cedar trees. John and Farrell and Danny 
 gathered heaps of dead branches, and threw them 
 
282 PILGRIMS OF THE PLAINS 
 
 on the coals of our campfire. The flame crackled 
 and roared, and a fountain of fire sparks streamed 
 upward, higher than rocks that shut us in. 
 
 Close to the blaze, so I think it must have scorched 
 them, sat the Mexicans. They had never before 
 presumed to enter our part of the camp, but Hiram 
 called them, to give orders about the broken-down 
 wagon, and being there, they stayed. They were 
 decked out in an extravagant fashion, in gay jackets, 
 tasseled sombreros, fancy neckerchiefs, and boots 
 with jingling spurs. 
 
 Danny whispered behind his hand to me: 
 
 "Say, doesn't it look like a theater scene? We 
 only need Twank or Joe-Lu to do the tremolo and 
 the jumpy chords on the violins to make it exactly 
 like a play on the stage. 'Bandits enter L.U.E., 
 take position in Center, around practical fire." 
 
 It was theatrical in its effect, and mightily 
 effective! The firelight displayed to advantage 
 every point of their "costume" and "make-up," 
 every trick of manner. We noted the sprawling, 
 lounging attitudes, the rolling of the everlasting 
 cigarritos, the knotted hands, coarse and ugly, the 
 black tangled hair, the bronzed faces, the full red 
 lips, red as if painted, the gleam of the white 
 teeth under black mustaches, the glitter of white 
 eyeballs under the scraggly, overhanging brows, 
 
BANDITS BY THE FIRE 283 
 
 the narrowed, sidelong glance, restless, sly, and 
 sinister. 
 
 They were typical stage villains, and their con- 
 versation served to carry out the illusion, as they 
 related, in their broken English and mongrel Spanish, 
 a series of horrid and blood-curdling stories of 
 ghost-haunted gulches, caves, guarded by skeletons, 
 where robbers had hidden their treasure, of caravans 
 where men had turned on each other with the 
 ferocity of beasts, crazy with the lust of blood. 
 And Arandez told with an over-abundance of 
 revolting details of a murder he had witnessed in 
 Westport, less than a year ago! In the firelight his 
 face looked positively diabolical, and poor Jose- 
 Marie, the weakest and sickliest one among them, 
 crumpled down in a heap, and gasped and struggled 
 and beat the air with his hands ! Arandez laughed, a 
 heartless, sneering, cruel, laugh, as Ignacio and 
 Pedro dragged the almost unconscious creature off 
 to their part of the camp. Arandez lingered to 
 explain that the man was crazy drunk, un loco, un 
 borracho. "Drink mucho, siempre! No bueno!" 
 And then he, too, left us, much to our relief. 
 They will not be permitted in this part of the camp 
 again, so Hiram and Danny promise us. 
 
 As the Mexicans left us we heard a burst of gay 
 laughter, and the sound of lively music! Farrell 
 
284 PILGRIMS OF THE PLAINS 
 
 and Twank and Burt Fones, and Eddie Evans, were 
 serenading the different groups at the different camp- 
 fires. They were not singing for nothing! There 
 was tribute to pay, in eatables and drinkables. Mr. 
 Williams set about brewing a pot of strong coffee; 
 and while it was getting ready to boil, the boys 
 entertained us with the choicest songs in their 
 repertoire, such moving melodies as "Billy Boy," 
 and "Ranordine," and "Come where my love lies 
 dreaming," and "Love's Ritornella." 
 
 Deep down hi the gorge, we could see only a 
 narrow strip of sky above us, but we knew that the 
 full moon was mounting into the heavens, for her 
 silver lances of light were breaking against the upper 
 crags of our dungeon walls. A rainbow-tinted misty 
 veil of cloud hid the stars for a moment, and then 
 the Lady Luna took possession of our bit of sky. 
 The fantastically splintered rocky walls were spark- 
 ling with diamond-bright points of light, like Alad- 
 din's Cave, and all the canyon was flooded, filled 
 to the brim with the radiance of moonlight. The 
 air was like balm, warm and fragrant, delicious to 
 breathe, exquisitely soft and caressing in its touch. 
 
 For a time there was no sound, save the rippling 
 of the little river against its stony banks. I would 
 have said there was no thought in my mind but that 
 of the beauty of the night, but there must have 
 
BANDITS BY THE FIRE 285 
 
 been something like fear there, too, for I felt a sudden 
 and distinct throb of relief when Banff crossed over 
 to us and lay down between Anna and me. I dared 
 to put my hand on his head, and he accepted the 
 caress without objection. 
 
 To the others, the moonlight must have been like 
 a hasheesh-draught. They were exuberantly, wildly, 
 gay. Even Anna talked and laughed, as I had never 
 heard her before. She almost flirted with Farrell 
 positively and Hiram beamed and thought it was 
 so smart of her! 
 
 Joe-Lu felt the intoxication of the moment, and 
 his bow fell upon the responsive strings with a 
 savage force and swing. The hollow shell thrilled 
 with the stormy ringing sequences caught from 
 no one knows what strange source. It made the 
 breath to catch in the throat, and the heart to beat 
 with wild, erratic pulsations. It dominated every- 
 thing. The boys' laughter and nonsense were but 
 the running accompaniment to the wild strains. 
 Hiram set the bonfire to blazing high, and Danny 
 and Burt indulged themselves in a riotous, eccen- 
 tric, wholly extemporaneous dance that the Wal- 
 purgis-night witches might have envied, for its 
 grotesqueness and abandon! 
 
 Banff was growing restless and uneasy. Several 
 times he lifted his head, and growled, deep in his 
 
286 PILGRIMS OF THE PLAINS 
 
 throat. Anna stroked his head, and bade him be 
 quiet; and she told the boys to stop their nonsense, 
 as Banff did not like it. 
 
 She had hardly spoken when the sharp report 
 of a rifle deafened us. The echoing walls of the 
 gorge repeated it again and again, in simultaneous 
 crashes, and Banff gave one deep savage cry, and 
 bounded upward. I screamed, for I thought he was 
 springing at Anna's throat. It was his unconscious 
 death-struggle. He fell at our feet, dead ! 
 
 We were shocked stunned ! We stood there dumb 
 wondering what would happen next! I expected 
 Joe-Lu to break out in a wild fury, but he only 
 lifted the limp body in his arms, as if it had been a 
 human creature whom he loved, and carried it to 
 his sleeping-place; leaving it to others to find the 
 one who had fired the deadly shot into the midst 
 of our circle. Hiram could only think of Anna. 
 As he hurried us to the carriage he besought her not 
 to be frightened though he, himself, was all 
 unnerved, thinking of the bullet that had sped by 
 so near to her! 
 
 Danny was the only one who kept his wits. The 
 flash of the gun had come from the wagons which 
 sheltered the Mexicans. Danny was the first one 
 to discover Jose-Marie, trembling and crying, with 
 his gun close beside him, still warm and smelling of 
 
BANDITS BY THE FIRE 287 
 
 powder-smoke. At once he confessed that it was 
 his gun that had fired the shot. 
 
 "But I not fire it! I would not purposely kill 
 the dog! No, es imposible! though the gracious 
 Senores know the dog is a wolf of the most vicious! 
 I fear him mucho, but I fear the anger of our Capitan, 
 the Senor Harrod, more! And he would not allow 
 that harm should come to that dog! Also the great 
 distance and the darkness I could not shoot 
 to kill, and I tremble yet with the sickness that 
 came upon me. Because I am afraid always I am 
 afraid I load the gun, it fall it shoot itself 
 off. I did not do it! I swear I did not do it, in 
 the name of the holy Christ, I swear it!" 
 
 That any one would deliberately fire into our 
 group was a thing not to be believed. It was so 
 manifestly an accident, and Jose was in such a piti- 
 able state of fear, that nothing could be said to him 
 in the way of reproof. Instead, Uncle Pliny and 
 Danny did all they could to reassure him, and Uncle 
 Pliny went to his wagon and made up a potent 
 cordial, and gave it to him, and stayed by his side 
 till he slept. 
 
 Anna and I sat up till Hiram came to tell us about 
 Jose-Marie, and how the gun had been accidentally 
 discharged. All the time he was talking I noticed 
 that she kept her hand wound up tightly in the 
 
PILGRIMS OF THE PLAINS 
 
 corner of her apron, and I sent Mr. Himey off as 
 quickly as I could, and then I turned to her, and 
 unwound her hand from its improvised bandage. 
 The bullet that had found Banff's heart had wounded 
 her, cutting a furrow, hardly more than skin-deep, 
 across her white palm. I washed it carefully, and 
 dressed it, and bound it up; and then she let me 
 undo her hooks and eyes, and brush and arrange 
 her hair for the night. 
 
 In half a dozen minutes she was sleeping, calmly 
 and sweetly, as if nothing alarming had transpired; 
 but I could not close my eyes, I knew, so I did not 
 try. I tremble yet as I think of Death's messenger 
 that came so near to us, that left as a sign that red 
 mark upon her hand! 
 
 A cold damp breeze is sweeping down the canyon. 
 The moon has forsaken her place in the high heavens, 
 and we are again left in shadow. 
 
CHAPTER XXXI 
 A SONG OF MYSTERY 
 
 THIS morning we woke up to find that 
 Hotchkiss and Jone Wright had both of 
 them slipped away in the night; and Franz 
 Bach said, "Id iss vot alvays happens ven we gedt 
 near der towns! Cifilization plays der mischiefs 
 mit dem poys ! Six veeks alretty on der blains, 
 id iss no vonder dey like to gedt vere der iss a city! 
 Dey iss no more to pe depended on ven we gedt near 
 Santa Fe!" 
 
 It was Hotchkiss's turn to go on guard last night 
 for the second watch. Joe-Lu was to have been 
 on duty till Hotchkiss came, but when he did not 
 put in an appearance Joe-Lu kept watch till four 
 in the morning, and John was awakened by a dis- 
 turbance among the stock, and spent the rest of 
 the night walking up and down with Joe-Lu; and 
 Joe-Lu told him of his many journeys on the Missis- 
 sippi, of the people he had met, and the scenes along 
 the way. 
 
 "For all that he is so quiet," John said, "it isn't 
 because he is stupid. There isn't a sparkle on the 
 
290 PILGRIMS OF THE PLAINS 
 
 river that he does not notice and treasure up and 
 put into music. And he told me something of his 
 plans for the future. Joe-Lu will never be satisfied 
 to stay here in America. There are other countries 
 where a man of talent, as he is, can win fame and 
 fortune for himself, even though he may have a 
 black skin. 
 
 And John went on to tell how Joe-Lu was on 
 one of the down-river boats, last year (of course 
 he had to stay with the roustabouts below deck), and 
 as he was playing one night on that instrument of 
 his, he looked up, and saw a white-faced woman 
 leaning over the rail, listening to his music. It was 
 Therese LeMoyne, a French woman, an actress from 
 Paris, from the Theatre Franchise, who had come to 
 America for a vacation and rest. There were three 
 other members of her company with her, and they 
 beckoned to Joe-Lu to come up on deck where they 
 were. 
 
 "'Er eyes dat big an' burnin', an' so deep dey look 
 into mine, it make me shiver! An' she make de 
 sign fo' me to come mo' nearer to 'er, and I go, 
 lak I walkin' in my sleep. An' she say, 'Play, boy! 
 Play fo' me yet some mo'!' I not afraid of 'er, not 
 'tall! Dat feedle go on of itself an' tell 'er 'bout de 
 gardens of N' Orleans, wid de sunshine on dem, , 
 of de wide river, w'ere it open into de Gulf, wid de 
 
A SONG OF MYSTERY 291 
 
 li'l islands, ev'y w'ere, an' of de harricane dat 
 sweep de canoe out into de ocean, an' de sky wid 
 clouds dat come down an' dip into de deep hollows 
 of de waves. I already see dat I myself was in a 
 canoe lak dat! So den de feedle it tell 'er all dat, 
 and mo', an' w'en I drop de bow she lay 'er w'ite 
 han' on my ahm, an' say, 'Come to Paris, monsieur!' 
 she call me dat a way 'Come to Paris. I 
 promise you de worl' will go mad for de music in 
 dat won'erful feedle,' she say. An' I promise 'er 
 dat I come, someday, an' dat is w'at I t'ink maybe 
 I do." 
 
 There would be a future for Joe-Lu there, and his 
 color would not handicap him. They are so used to 
 dark-colored people in Paris they would not notice a 
 shade or two of difference. They have Spanish and 
 Creoles, and Italians and Greeks, and black Rus- 
 sians and Moors, and they don't think much about 
 the color of a man's skin, just so that he knows 
 something, just so he can do something that is 
 all that counts. 
 
 "If Joe-Lu would go to Paris," John said, "I bet 
 he'd be making money right from the start, for there 
 isn't a musician like him in the world, I know there 
 isn't!" 
 
 I think perhaps Joe-Lu would not have spoken 
 so freely to John, only he is homesick for Auguste 
 
292 PILGRIMS OF THE PLAINS 
 
 and Franchy, and I am sure he misses Banff more 
 than he would like to own. 
 
 He has been playing again that old song his 
 mother used to sing, the song with the "Affican" 
 words. He used the strangely-sweet melody as 
 the theme of a series of wandering improvisations, 
 difficult and brilliant, simple and unutterably 
 plaintive. The refrain so often repeated fixed itself 
 in my memory so I think I can write it down. 
 
 L(yr p 
 
 ^ <4 
 
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 -J 
 
 
 L W * * . J. - J. ' 
 
 9 L-^ 
 
 *tp-* 
 
 
 
 I/ , P 
 
 1 
 
 s 1 
 
 
 
 ffkPb 1 N I r-- 
 
 1 ^ d 
 
 ^ 1 
 
 ~l r 
 
 
 532 J 
 
 * * 
 
 * J * 
 
 
 
 I/ - * j. -j- 
 
 J ^~ 
 
 9 
 
 N h. I 
 
 * 
 
 ~i 
 
 -^- 
 
 -4 
 
 . Q fr , | 
 
 -i 1 1 i r 
 
 ^M^ 
 
 PP 
 
 -J 1 
 
 SEti f^^ 
 
 1 -i 
 
 =^={== 
 
 S 
 
 We-a-chi-no-li ; We-a-chi-chi-no-li. 
 Lu-bel-pe-be-she ; We-a-chi-chi-no-a-li. ' ' 
 
 Neither Franchy nor Joe-Lu know what the 
 words mean, only, as Franchy says, "From de way 
 Mammy Jule sing dem, we know dey be love-song, 
 an' fo' loneliness!" 
 
 Whenever Joe-Lu sings that song, I always see, 
 
A SONG OF MYSTERY 293 
 
 see, in my mind, the same picture, the picture of 
 a dark ship on a tropic sea, a majestic womanly 
 figure, straight and tall, like a statue of bronze, 
 standing on deck, stretching out her arms to the 
 shore, Heaven's glory above her the dark and 
 fetid shambles of the slaves' quarters under her feet. 
 Far away, beyond the fast disappearing shore, are 
 the friends of her childhood, all whom she has 
 known and loved, and she sings this song, a song 
 of mystery, of haunting fears, of hopes, vague, 
 elusive, hopes destined never to be fulfilled ! 
 
 "Boy-John! Boy-John!" It is Joe-Lu calling. 
 He and John and Danny and Franz Bach are going 
 up the canyon to the north, after a flock of mountain- 
 sheep that someone has seen in that direction.* 
 This is their avowed purpose, but Franz Bach says, 
 " Maype, too, we see de redt schmoke of der camp- 
 fire of dot Bent's Fordt Barty! Id iss dime dot dey 
 vos coming. Maype so, we pring dem pack mit us 
 Id would not pe so strange." 
 
CHAPTER XXXH 
 THE PRICK OF THE SHARP BLADE 
 
 THE Mexican waifs will never trouble our 
 part of the camp again, for they are gone, 
 and that is not the worst of it! They 
 have taken Barnaby and Aguilita, and most of the 
 mules, and guns and powder and provisions, seven 
 hundred dollars in gold out of Uncle Pliny's money 
 chest. And Captain Harrod has had my brother 
 John arrested, with Wes Beasely and Downing. 
 
 They were all three doing guard duty last night 
 for our section, and Captain Harrod says one of 
 them was guilty of criminal negligence, if they did 
 not actively assist in the robbery! It was in our 
 section that the wagons had been unchained to let 
 the robbers through. The trail was plain down to 
 the water's edge. No one thinks that John would 
 willingly let the thieves get away with their booty, 
 but it is possible he might have been asleep, or he 
 might have been careless about keeping strict watch, 
 and so he is held with the other two. 
 
 Wes Beasely was the first one to be questioned. 
 He hesitated and stammered and looked guilty, 
 
PRICK OF THE SHARP BLADE 295 
 
 right from the start, and he told a most evasive and 
 crooked story. No, he had not slept, he could 
 swear to that; he heard no unusual sound, he had 
 walked his beat all the time, as he was expected to 
 do. Well then, yes, he had stopped, but only for a 
 moment, to talk with Ignacio. Yes, as Lieutenant "* 
 Stoneman saw, he believed he did play one little 
 game of cards with that Ignacio, surely only one 
 game! Drink? one little drink, that was positively 
 all! He was ready to take his most solemn oath 
 that the escape from the camp was not while he was 
 on duty, not between the hours from ten to twelve, 
 and his protestations sounded almost genuine. 
 
 Downing, who followed Beasely in the night 
 watch, was next called upon, and he declared 
 emphatically that Beasely did not "show up" till 
 long after he, Downing, came on duty, possibly 
 half an hour, anyway twenty minutes, he could not 
 be sure. Beasely had undoubtedly been drinking, 
 was drunk "as a boiled owl," that was the plain * 
 fact in the case. Downing himself had been wide 
 awake; he had patrolled his beat as usual, and had 
 seen nothing out of the way, heard no sound . Though 
 the Deacon and Captain Harrod questioned him 
 sharply and closely he was not flurried. He had a 
 plain story to tell, and told it quietly, and stuck 
 to it. 
 
296 PILGRIMS OF THE PLAINS 
 
 John's cheeks blazed red when he was examined, 
 and he was very nervous. Yes, he was sometimes 
 afraid when he was on guard, and more so than ever 
 since Banff had been killed; but he would not let 
 that interfere with his duty. Down through the 
 high grass out to the clump of cedar-trees he 
 had walked his beat from end to end. Yes, he had 
 been out with the hunting party, the night before, 
 and his eyes were heavy enough to almost close 
 themselves in spite of his best efforts to keep them 
 open but he did not sleep. Yes, he forgot, he 
 did leave the line of his beat once he walked down 
 to the river, where he thought he saw something 
 moving, but found it was only a shirt hung out on a 
 bush to dry. He was certain, perfectly certain, 
 that the Mexicans did not leave the camp while he 
 was on guard. 
 
 There were other witnesses to be called after 
 breakfast; witnesses who said they had heard things, 
 or had noted suspicious circumstances, witnesses 
 eager to be allowed to talk. 
 
 The three guards had not been permitted to hear 
 each other's testimony, and now they were to be 
 kept separated, so that no one should speak to them 
 till the examination was over. 
 
 It did hurt to see John under surveillance, as if 
 he were a criminal, even though we knew that all 
 
PRICK OF THE SHARP BLADE 297 
 
 must be treated alike. But Joe-Lu did not take it 
 philosophically; he was beside himself with wrath. 
 
 "No need to set dat Beauchemie to watch Boy 
 John! 'E tell 'em dat 'e know not'ing 'bout de 
 robbery, ain't dat 'nough? W'y dey not go 
 after de t'ieves dat's w'at I say, an' make dem 
 say who is de traitor in dis camp! I go, myself! 
 Not ask nobody! I take care myself!" 
 
 His eyes flashed fiery gleams, his voice was 
 hoarse, his frame was trembling with indignation. 
 He plunged into the stream, his eyes scanning every 
 overhanging branch, every displaced stone, that 
 might give him the trail they had taken. His 
 training in the north-woods served him well, for 
 once found, the fugitives' tracks were as plain to 
 his eyes as if sign-posts had been set up for his 
 guidance. 
 
 Breakfast seemed an interminable meal. When 
 at last it was finished, Truesdale and Hilton, and 
 several others, told what they knew, and what they 
 guessed at; but their surmisings, and the things 
 they had heard amounted to nothing. And Wes 
 Beasely was going over his story again, incriminat- 
 ing himself more and more deeply with every word 
 he uttered, when Captain Harrod caught sight of 
 Joe-Lu in the distance, striding along, dragging 
 
298 PILGRIMS1OF THE PLAINS 
 
 Jose-Marie after him, over prickly-pears, and be- 
 tween rows of spiny thorny cactus, quite as if the 
 Mexican were but a straw-stuffed scarecrow, 
 dirty, disheveled, all but frightened to death Jose- 
 Marie! Sustained by his wrath, Joe-Lu counted 
 the man's weight as nothing; and as if it were but a 
 bundle of dirty straw that he carried, he threw his 
 load down at the Captain's feet, and with a fine air 
 of unconscious dignity, he said: 
 
 "Dere 'e is! Ask 'im w'at you want to know! 
 'E tell you ev'yt'ing! Yaas! 'E was coming 
 back of 'imself purpose to tell ! I bring 'im 
 a li'l quicker, da's all!" 
 
 Jose-Marie lay on the ground where he had been 
 cast, and as he lay there his lips babbled out his 
 story. 
 
 "Si, si, Senores, it is the truth I wish to speak 
 I cannot bear the burden of such thoughts 
 such wickedness ! They beat me on the head, they 
 slash me with knife, because I would not they should 
 do robbery so vile ! I tell them, all the time I tell 
 them, it was wickedness too monstrous after 
 you save us from the death, and treat us like we be 
 brother. Uncle Pliny, he so good. And to take 
 the gold from his chest! I had nothing to do with 
 the planning! Si, si, Senores, I mean to tell you 
 all! Who help us out of camp? You not know 
 
PRICK OF THE SHARP BLADE 
 
 that, already? Surely it was that Downing, who 
 else? He and Arandez, they make it up between 
 them." 
 
 Downing's guards were so intent on the Mexi- 
 can's story, they had forgotten to watch their 
 prisoner! Without warning, he sprung upon Jose- 
 Marie, and struck him in the back with a knife! 
 His desperate act was repented of, however, before 
 it was consummated, for he dropped the weapon 
 and said, sullenly: 
 
 " This Jose-Marie is a fool and crazy besides ! 
 There is no word of truth in him! He is a liar and 
 the father of liars!" 
 
 The prick of the sharp blade drove Jose-Marie 
 to frenzy. 
 
 "Fool? Liar? That Downing to say that to me! 
 I prove what I say! Crazy? Me? Look you, 
 then, in his wagon; in his chest, in the bottom 
 is secret place! There you find the gold! You 
 see! Then you say if I un loco! Crazy! And 
 liar!" 
 
 Stoneman went to investigate, but before he 
 could return, Downing had confessed his treachery. 
 Without protest, with a stupid unconcern, he 
 allowed the iron shackles to be placed upon his 
 wrists. 
 
 Stoneman found the chest, and the secret place 
 
300 PILGRIMS OF THE PLAINS 
 
 with the money, just as the Mexican had said. The 
 gold had not been taken out of the money-bags. 
 Uncle Pliny had kept them on the counter, open 
 and unguarded in the daytime; it was only at 
 night that he locked them up in the chest, we all 
 knew the look of Uncle Pliny's money-bags! I was 
 so glad to see the gold back in his hands. I do hope 
 he will make money enough, this trip, so he can stay 
 in Tennessee, as he wants to do, and build the "ell" 
 on his "darter's" house, and buy her the new loom, 
 and the big "store-rocker" for himself, so he can 
 always "set by the fire, with Loretty's children 
 a-playin' round!" 
 
 I was talking with Uncle Pliny, and forgot the 
 Mexican, but he was still explaining. 
 
 "That Beasely, he no sabe, but help, just the same. 
 Ignacio make monkey cat-paw of him. He 
 play card, get drunk, mucho! We make pack 
 upon the mules, and tie buckskin over hoofs, so 
 there be no noise. Then Downing come, he 
 go on his beat, he not look ! We unchain the 
 wagon, and get away, and for that Ignacio give 
 him Uncle Pliny's money! 
 
 "Wait, wait, si, si, I tell you! Why take so 
 much powder? I hide nothing! It this way. We 
 have secret of the great mine La Glorieta mine, 
 that has been hid for so many year, covered up 
 
PRICK OF THE SHARP BLADE 301 
 
 under the sliding down of a great hill. We have 
 the map, that tell us where to look for the entrance 
 of that mine. It take much powder! So we get 
 powder from the Captain's wagons, and the other 
 things what we need from Uncle Pliny. Sabe? 
 It take many mules to carry off the treasure. Such 
 treasure! We be rich, we think, rich like the richest 
 in Mexico, in Spain ! Our hands full of the treasure 
 of the mine, La Glorieta! 
 
 "Yet, look you, Sefiores! I swear to you that 
 I tell them no luck come if they rob these people 
 so kind to us. But they no listen. I go with them 
 what else can I? Yet I knew Death was on our 
 track, and I say to them, 'It is Friday, and of the 
 month, the thirteenth! 9 And as we leave the camp 
 a night-hawk flap her wings in my face, and cross 
 our path with double cross ! So always I beg 
 them to go back ! And I weep, and then when 
 we down in arroyo they stab me, and strike me 
 'cross the head, so that blood blind my eyes! 
 
 "Blood in my face, and on my mouth! Like as 
 when the blood from that old Spanish Senor was on 
 me For Di6s! I have enough of blood! My 
 God, yes! Not for the richest mine in Mexico 
 would I go with them further! I slip from my 
 mule. In the darkness they no see. I come back 
 to tell you, so I hope for forgiveness. And I 
 
302 PILGRIMS OF THE PLAINS 
 
 find this good nigger-man, and he help so I arrive 
 with more swiftness. See, I tell you all." 
 
 Oh, no; not all! He had hinted at another crime, 
 that he had had a part in, and the Captain deter- 
 mined to know that story also. Jose-Marie looked 
 up blankly at the Captain's first question in regard 
 to this. 
 
 No, yes, he knew not what he said ! Things 
 no true, he so frightened so sick un loco 
 even as Downing had said! 
 
 Jose-Marie, even bewildered as he was, knew that 
 to admit complicity in a murder was to sign a death- 
 warrant for himself. But under the fire of Captain 
 Harrod's glance, his little soul shrivelled into noth- 
 ingness, and his lips poured forth all that had found 
 lodgment in his consciousness. 
 
 There were seven Mexicans, thieves and cut- 
 throats all, who had wintered in Westport, 
 Jose-Marie, Arandez, Ignacio, Pedro, and three 
 others. During the winter a half-witted old man, 
 an old Spanish Don, whom they had seen many 
 times in Santa Fe, Don Enrique de Velasco, made 
 his appearance in the town. 
 
 This old Velasco was sour and morose, a savage 
 when aroused, but because the hand of the Great 
 Spirit had beclouded his faculties the Indians gave 
 him food and shelter. Perhaps he may have 
 
'PRICK OF THE SHARP BLADE 303 
 
 remembered the faces of Arandez and the others, 
 for after he saw them he attached himself to them, 
 so they could not rid themselves of him, so Jose- 
 Marie said. 
 
 "One night we all drinking. I sleep on floor 
 by the table. Arandez is. craze when liquor in 
 him, and for nothing at all, only that he is wicked 
 and cruel always, he stab the old Senor! I sleep! 
 I know nothing! But it is upon me that he fall! 
 His blood upon me! And they not help me rise, 
 they laugh and leave me there! They strip 
 his clothes from him, and find, not money, 
 but much better, in a package wrapped with folds 
 of silk, the map of the mine of which I tell you 
 La Glorieta! 
 
 "We frighten at thought of the riches to be 
 ours! We hide the body, and drink no more. We 
 hire to that Caravan out of Westport in early May. 
 They think we work best of all they have hire. 
 And all time we plan to rob when we get near 
 Mora-mountain, to rob them of what we need 
 to win that treasure of the mine, pack-mules, 
 and powder and all. We plan, but it happen 
 most different! 
 
 "We go off together at night to make the last 
 agreement together, what each one do what 
 share each one have. We come back the camp 
 
304 PILGRIMS OF THE PLAINS 
 
 is not! Every man dead! Then we go on desert 
 
 you find us when we give up to die! You took 
 us as brother! We weep, among ourselves even 
 Arandez, and we swear on the cross to live honest, 
 to give you faithful service, because you save us. 
 Yet in few days, Arandez again talk of the treasure, 
 show the map, and urge us take what we need and 
 go. But there was the dog, the wolf dog. We 
 make move, Banff he know! So Arandez, first 
 chance come, kill him! Yes, take my gun, and 
 when fire blaze up bright, take the long sight, and 
 fire. He kick me with foot and laugh, and go 
 and leave me to make answer. Always it is me 
 to suffer always it is me to bear the blame, and 
 I wish to harm no one! The gracious Capitan will 
 not forget that I, of myself, come back to tell all? 
 I care for nothing so I see that Arandez never again, 
 
 never again!" 
 
 It was the force of Captain Harrod's will that had 
 sustained Jose-Marie thus far, and when the Cap- 
 tain turned away to give orders for the moving of 
 the caravan, the Mexican collapsed in a heap, and 
 had to be carried to the wagon. It was Uncle 
 Pliny who cared for him, and Uncle Pliny who 
 found excuse for him. 
 
 "That Arandez was to blame, he was an out- 
 an'-out bad-un, without ary spark of good! It 
 
PRICK OF THE SHARP BLADE 305 
 
 wan't to be expected that a sickly little feller like 
 this Jose-Marie 'd be able to say him no. Pretty 
 decent of him, I call it, to leave 'em, and come 
 back, with all that treasure in sight, an' I do 
 suppose he believed them tales 'bout that mine, 
 though it's likely that the map an' all was jest some 
 lie that Arandez got up, for some purpose of his 
 own. Tain't likely they's a mite of truth in it!" 
 
CHAPTER XXXIII 
 MY RIGHTFUL PLACE, FOREVERMORE 
 
 NEVER was a day more bright and lovely! 
 There is a crisp hint of iciness in the air, 
 - just enough to make one's cheeks and 
 fingers tingle with life, just enough to make one 
 long for a wild swift gallop down the valley, with 
 the tall grasses dimpling and billowing in the wind 
 before you ! Only, my pretty dear, my pony Aguilita, 
 is not here to carry me. 
 
 The lovely open valley clothed in soft green is 
 like a glimpse of Paradise to our cattle! The poor 
 beasties have been overworked and underfed, ever 
 since we left the Arkansas river. They are hardly 
 more than skin and bone. They have earned a 
 good long rest, and they will have it here; for we 
 will stop here to repair our wagons and rearrange 
 our loads, getting them ready for government 
 inspection. 
 
 There are only a few idlers in camp Farrell 
 Montgomery, and Burt Fones, and Twank, and Mr. 
 Willard, and Anna and I. We are in the busy 
 
RIGHTFUL PLACE FOREVERMORE 307 
 
 people's way, so Captain Harrod was easily per- 
 suaded to let us go over to Eagle Mountain for the 
 day. Enos Quackenbos is to go with us as military 
 escort. Mr. Williams and his cook wagon are not 
 to be left behind, and we will enjoy our dinner al 
 fresco at the foot of the big splintered rock that juts 
 out from the mountain. 
 
 We feel as if this were a real adventure, but it 
 will not be a very wild one, for we will be in sight, 
 and within signalling distance, of the caravan all 
 the time. 
 
 I am glad Anna is going. Somehow she does not 
 seem her usual quiet self. I suppose she is still 
 nervous from the shock of that wound, and Banff's 
 death, and the robbery, and all. 
 
 Hurry! Hurry! Hurry! We are off for Eagle 
 Mountain! 
 
 It is Sunday afternoon, and we are at Santa Clara 
 Springs. I am lying here in bed, fully awake after 
 hours of unconsciousness like sleep, only it was 
 not real sleep, for I knew that John was bathing my 
 head, and tending me. I knew that Ernst was 
 with me, too. He has helped John to lift me, that 
 I might rest easier, and they have tried to persuade 
 me to eat and drink. I miss Anna. She is not 
 in camp. I do not understand. They say that 
 
308 PILGRIMS OF THE PLAINS 
 
 she and Hiram went down to Mora, and that they 
 are waiting for us there. It is strange. 
 
 It seems weeks since we were getting ready for 
 that little summer-day outing over on Eagle Moun- 
 tain, and it was only yesterday morning, but I can 
 not think about that! 
 
 Sudden waves of drowsiness come over me, even 
 when I think I am not sleepy. I think I must have 
 been sleeping just now, for I seemed to hear the 
 church bells ringing the bells at home. Ding-dong, 
 ding-ding-dong! till the air was full of the sound. 
 And then I was in church, and father and mother 
 were coming up the aisle, and mother was wearing 
 her new Paisley shawl, and the girls, Lucy and 
 Martha and Margaret and Mary-Belle, were sitting 
 in the choir. And our minister opened the pulpit 
 Bible, and read: 
 
 "Thou shalt not fear for the terror by night, nor 
 for the arrow that flieth by day. There shall no 
 evil befall thee for He shall give His angels charge 
 over thee, they shall bear thee up in their hands, 
 lest thou dash thy foot against a stone. The 
 Lord is my Shepherd, He maketh me to lie 
 down in green pastures. He leadeth me beside the 
 still waters " 
 
 My eyes are heavy 
 
RIGHTFUL PLACE FOREVERMORE 309 
 
 It is Monday morning, and we are still at Santa 
 Clara Springs. 
 
 All of the long evening, all of the long night, I 
 have slept, a sweet dreamless sleep; and I awoke 
 with the dawn, a new creature. Only there is some- 
 thing wrong with my body, for when I try to move 
 my limbs, I can not ! But the me, inside of my body, 
 is all right! In spite of what has happened, I feel 
 not exhaustion but exhilaration, as if there were a 
 new energy flooding my veins. If I could only 
 stand and walk! 
 
 Up on Eagle Mountain my horse fell and almost 
 crushed the life out of me; but the hurt will soon be 
 over, and the weakness will pass, and I will be up 
 climbing another mountain before the week is out. 
 That is what I told Uncle Pliny. He and Danny 
 were whispering together just outside the carriage 
 curtains, and I heard them, as if they had whispered 
 in my ear. 
 
 "Will Deya be a cripple always, do you think?" 
 
 I pulled back the curtain and answered them 
 promptly. 
 
 "No, she won't be a cripple, nor anything like 
 one ! And right now she wants her breakfast, 
 and someone to wait on her!" 
 
 Uncle Pliny laughed his fat comfortable chuckle 
 and said: 
 
310 PILGRIMS OF THE PLAINS 
 
 "Seems like someone is purty peart an* sassy! 
 An' I don't reckon she's half so bad hurted as she's 
 been pertendin'! An' anyway it's the best sign 
 they is, when an invalid gets smart and snappy!" 
 
 They stayed on the outside while John made me 
 presentable, and then I ate my breakfast and 
 it was not an invalid's breakfast either. They told 
 me all the camp news, and then I slept again ! 
 
 Ernst is so comfortable to get along with. He 
 does not bother with questions. He just quietly 
 takes it ^f or granted that we are betrothed; and that 
 seems to me now to be the most natural thing in 
 the world. It is as if we had known each other for 
 years and years, as if I had promised myself to 
 him long ago! 
 
 He gives me credit for knowing what I ought to 
 do, and what I ought not to do; and when I asked 
 him for this Journal book, he got it for me, and 
 smiled a sure smile when I told him I would only 
 write a little at a time, as I feel like it. 
 
 When Captain Harrod told us we might go over 
 to Eagle Mountain, he expected us to stay in sight 
 of camp. And so we meant to do; but when we 
 arrived at the foot of the big cliff, we straightway 
 forgot. The men found the fresh trail of a deer, 
 
RIGHTFUL PLACE FOREVERMORE 311 
 
 and they hardly stopped for a word of explanation 
 before they disappeared, Enos Quackenbos being 
 the first one to go. 
 
 Anna and I were settled comfortably in the 
 carriage, when John came up to tell me he was going 
 to climb the cliff. He pointed out a pair of big 
 eagles that had all the morning been flying in 
 and out around the top of a pointed crag. We 
 had noticed them before we left camp, and the old 
 plainsmen said it was the same pair that had nested 
 there for years, the very ones for whom the 
 mountain was named. John thought he could 
 climb to a point above the nest, and look down into 
 it. He did not ask me to go with him, but when I 
 got up in a hurry and tied on my sun hat, he invited 
 me. "Come along! It's more fun when there are 
 two of us!" Anna thought it was all right, my 
 going, and I told her we would see her again in an 
 hour. An hour! And I haven't seen her since! 
 
 The face of that split-off rock was almost per- 
 pendicular, only there were footholds and stair-steps, 
 that we could scramble up by. When we reached 
 the top of the rock we stood and looked about us. 
 I knew that Anna was sewing placidly there in the 
 carriage but though I called and called she did not 
 look up. We were two hundred feet and more, 
 above the level of the valley. 
 
312 PILGRIMS OF THE PLAINS 
 
 The eagles were still in sight, and John was sure 
 they were feeding a nest-full of little ones. The 
 crag where we were was almost entirely cut off from 
 the main body of the mountain. In order to cross 
 the chasm that lay between them, we had to creep 
 across a narrow ridge of rock, like a bridge. From 
 the further side of the narrow causeway there 
 seemed to be a good path leading diagonally upward 
 to the mesa-crest. 
 
 We lost our eagles! We searched the rocks and 
 sky for them, but they had vanished. We waited, 
 hoping they would come back, and while we were 
 waiting an ugly buzzard, a monstrous bird, 
 sailed down, almost within stone's throw, and John 
 fired, and missed it. I laughed at him, it looked to 
 be such an easy shot. John blamed the sun in his 
 eyes, the wind, everything but his own marksman- 
 ship. To show it was not his skill that was at fault, 
 he fired at a staring white mark on a big round 
 stone, lodged some thirty yards above us on the 
 slope. It was a fine natural target, and we wasted 
 our ammunition on it, each striving to outdo the 
 other. The impact of the bullets set the stone to 
 rocking. That was sport too, and we fired again 
 and again. 
 
 The boulder was insecurely balanced, and it 
 began to turn and slide down through the ashy 
 
RIGHTFUL PLACE FOREVERMORE 313 
 
 debris that held it. There was another rock just 
 like it, a little way below, and we had just time to 
 jump aside, when they both came thundering by 
 us! We looked at each other, and held our breath. 
 We felt the force of a great rushing wind. There 
 were tons of rock plunging downward. It was a 
 resistless avalanche when it struck that split-off 
 crag! There was a crash, like the crash of Dooms- 
 day; and a shock that made the mountain shake 
 and tremble. Crag and flying rock made the leap 
 together into the valley below. We were enveloped 
 in a cloud of dust, thick and stifling as smoke, and 
 our hearts stood still with an awful fear, for those 
 we had left below ! Then we saw them from the 
 dizzy perch at the edge of the gulf where we were 
 standing. Tears of thankfulness poured from our 
 eyes, for they were safe we were safe! 
 
 Enos Quackenbos was foolish enough to think 
 that he could climb to us from below, but between 
 us was a bare white scar of stone, impassable to 
 anything that had not wings. 
 
 The camp was aroused. We could see the men 
 hurrying to mount their horses. A score of them 
 rode across the valley, to a point just below us. 
 By signs they made us understand that we must 
 go on up to the top, and they would go around by 
 
314 PILGRIMS OF THE PLAINS 
 
 the south, and so up the bridle road that wound 
 around by the south and west, to the high table 
 land above, and that they would meet us there. 
 
 After the first shock was over, we contemplated 
 the difficult climb that was before us, with eager- 
 ness. John said: 
 
 "It's going to be great sport! People climb 
 mountains just for the fun and excitement there is 
 in it, and here we have no snow-clad fields, no 
 glaciers or ice-bridges. We needn't worry!" 
 
 In the Knickerbocker Magazine there had lately 
 been accounts of how people had climbed the 
 famous peaks of the Alps, and John thought he knew 
 what was proper to the situation! From a stubby 
 tree he cut two crooked sticks for "alpenstocks." 
 He tore his good zerape into strips, and we sat down 
 and braided them into a rope, which we tied about 
 his waist and mine. We chattered and laughed as 
 if it were a frolic though deep in our hearts we 
 realized that this was not a playful excursion that 
 we were about to undertake. 
 
 The road to the top was not a plain and easy one, 
 even at the first. There was the steep and slippery 
 track of the avalanche that had to be climbed before 
 we could get anywhere. We climbed that place 
 on our hands and knees. Then we found something 
 like a track, that the mountain-sheep perhaps had 
 
I RIGHTFUL PLACE FOREVERMORE 315 
 
 r 
 
 travelled, and we followed it as it grew narrower and 
 narrower; and it became a little shelf jutting out from 
 a high smooth wall, the chasm that yawned below, 
 we did not dare to examine! The shelf was no 
 broader than my two hands, and it turned sharp 
 around a corner so we could not see what lay beyond. 
 We set our backs to the* rock wall and slid our feet 
 along sidewise, and turned the corner ! There was 
 a little strip of grassy slope, and two mountain-sheep 
 with their little ones, grazing. A flash of whiteness, 
 and they were gone, leaving no track that we could 
 follow. 
 
 It had not occurred to us, at first, that Alpine 
 climbers have with them guides who know the 
 mountains like ABC, while we knew nothing about 
 this place. There may have been a dozen good 
 paths to the top, but we did not find them. Every 
 trail we tried ended nowhere, either in an abrupt 
 precipice, or against a blank wall. 
 
 We finally made our way around to the northern 
 side, and from there the ascent was not so difficult; 
 but it was late in the afternoon when we arrived at 
 a point only a dozen feet from the upper edge of 
 the plateau and found we could get ho further ! 
 There was a straight-up bank of clay and soft shaly 
 rock between us and the level top of the cliff. We 
 did not give up in despair, however, We sat down 
 
316 PILGRIMS OF THE PLAINS 
 
 and drew a long breath, and we both thought 
 of the same thing at once! We could dig stair steps 
 in the clay ! We had two knives, but it was severe 
 work, and we were already tired. Twilight was 
 coming on. The cold wind of evening chilled us. 
 As we got higher, only one could work to advantage, 
 
 so I helped to support John's weight, as he cut 
 the shallow niches for our feet. He uncovered a 
 long stout fibrous root, like a rope, to hold by, and 
 I made him set one foot on my shoulder as he 
 worked. I was too dazed and weary to remember 
 very clearly after that. I felt the clods falling on 
 me. I felt the pulling of the rope around my waist, 
 
 and I remember setting my feet carefully in the 
 steps that John had made, the clasp of his hands 
 on mine, the breaking and crumbling of the 
 earth under me as he drew me up at last! 
 beside him! 
 
 He carried me to a place where the grass was 
 soft and thick, and we lay down there and slept, I 
 do not know how long. We awoke with a scream, 
 which was promptly suppressed. A pistol shot had 
 been fired a rapid succession of shots only a 
 little distance from us. It was no signal, such as 
 our friends might have fired there was deadly 
 purpose in it! 
 
 I do not know why we both should have been so 
 
RIGHTFUL PLACE FOREVERMORE 317 
 
 sure that it was Arandez, and the other Mexicans, 
 who were near us. We lay close to the earth, and 
 held our breath to listen, but there was no further 
 sound, only after a long time we did hear the soft 
 stepping of horses' hoofs, and the nipping of the 
 grass as they grazed. There were two horses, and 
 one whinnied, calling to the other. John caught 
 his breath audibly, with something like a sob. He 
 seized my hands. 
 
 "Deya! listen! I know it's Barnaby! I know 
 it! And Aguilita!" 
 
 He called to them, with the secret call that Kit 
 Carson had taught us, and our ponies knew it 
 well. They stopped eating. Again he called. They 
 came toward us, found us, and thrust their 
 soft noses into our hands! 
 
 John gave me their bridle-reins to hold. He said: 
 
 "Stay here. I'm going to find where those men 
 are. Give me Barnaby's call once in a while, so I 
 will know where to find you again." 
 
 In a little while he crept back. 
 
 "It couldn't be better! They are over there to 
 the northwest, in a little arroyo. Yes, it's the 
 Mexicans, of course, only Arandez is not with them. 
 They are sleeping by their fire without any guard. 
 We can get away, if we are quiet about it if we 
 have luck!" 
 
318 PILGRIMS OF THE PLAINS 
 
 But I could not mount my pony. I could not 
 help myself in any way! John lifted me into the 
 saddle, a big high Mexican saddle; and then I could 
 not sit upright, but John tied me on with a dozen 
 turns of the lazo-rope, as if I had been a sack of 
 corn. We went as noiselessly as possible, keeping 
 the horses' heads away from the red glare that 
 showed where the Mexican camp was. John whis- 
 pered that he thought we were on the trail, the 
 beaten track that would take us down the mountain. 
 
 We had traveled for many minutes, and were 
 well below the level of the mesa, when we came to a 
 dangerous bit of road, a broken rocky path with a 
 sheer precipice on the outer side. We needed the 
 moon's light, and just then the clouds rolled 
 back, and the trail lay before us as plainly visible 
 as if it were day. 
 
 We thought our troubles at last were over. I 
 forgot pain and weariness. My spirits were recover- 
 ing their tone, my body, its strength. I slipped my 
 right hand out of the ropes that held me, and tried 
 to free my body, so I could sit properly in the 
 saddle, but John had drawn the knots too tight for 
 that. I spoke to him, and he dismounted and came 
 to my side. 
 
 And there was Arandez, there in the path! We 
 saw him plainly in the moonlight. His face was 
 
RIGHTFUL PLACE FOREVERMORE 319 
 
 blood-marked, frightful to look upon! He sprang 
 on Barnaby's back, and seeing John he rode straight 
 over him; but he never guessed that the dark 
 bundle lying across Aguilita's saddle was a living 
 creature. The end of the rope that bound me to 
 Aguilita John had carried over and fastened to the 
 horn of Barnaby's saddle, and when Barnaby was 
 forced into a run up the steep road by the half- 
 crazy Arandez, Aguilita had to follow. John was 
 utterly distraught! Like a wild-cat he was clinging 
 to Barnaby, clawing at Arandez, fighting tooth and 
 nail for the possession of his horse, and screaming 
 at the top of his voice for help though he knew 
 there was no one near to come to our aid. 
 
 He could not really hurt the big man. There was 
 no need for Arandez to use his gun, to rid himself 
 of the clinging figure, but he wickedly drew it, and 
 turned it upon my brother 
 
 I lived a year in that half -second. I thought of 
 everything that ought to be done, and deliber- 
 ately did it! In spite of my cramped position I got 
 my revolver out of its holster, and fired. I, who 
 would never fire at a living target, felt no horror 
 at the idea of taking a human life, and I knew 
 I would not miss this creature! There was a cry, a 
 spasmodic upward leap, a sudden collapse of the 
 heavy body. But it takes time for a man like that 
 
320 PILGRIMS OF THE PLAINS 
 
 to die. He had seen the flash from my gun, and he 
 spurred Barnaby against Aguilita to crowd her over 
 the crumbling brink! 
 
 A loud report of guns, from down the road, a 
 rush of clattering hoofs! A dozen dark mounted 
 figures coming up the road! Joe-Lu's voice scream- 
 ing out an answer to John's cries for help. "Boy 
 John ! Boy John ! " An indistinct dark form sprang 
 past me, it seized upon Arandez, and dragged 
 him from the saddle! I had a glimpse of glaring 
 eyeballs, of a terrible, ghastly, contorted visage! 
 I heard cries and oaths, gurgling, choking, gasping 
 sounds, and smothered calls for help. The horses 
 were wild with terror. Aguilita's hoofs were crunch- 
 ing the stones at the very verge of the cliff. I hung 
 head downward over the abyss below me was a 
 sea of white mist, with the tops of the pine trees 
 showing through, and that was all. Then across 
 my range of vision there plunged a dark and writhing 
 mass. There was no merciful unconsciousness for 
 me I knew it was Arandez with Joe-Lu clasped 
 tight in his arms ! and with them went Barnaby, 
 down through space, down 
 
 Aguilita and I would have followed them, I had 
 no thought but that it would be so, but she was 
 suddenly drawn bodily backward. Big Rob was 
 there, and he had thrown himself underneath her, 
 
RIGHTFUL PLACE FOREVERMORE 321 
 
 and the others had seized her by mane and saddle 
 and trailing rope! She fell, but it was upon the 
 roadway, and I, bound so tightly to her, fell 
 with her. 
 
 Ernst spoke my name ! He lifted and held me, like 
 a child, in his arms. We were mounted and going 
 slowly down the long trail that led to the camp. 
 I looked up into the face so near to mine; it was 
 transfigured with the holiest of raptures, yet it was 
 white and drawn. Heaven's light was in his eyes, 
 yet they were wet with tears. 
 
 I was not sure but that this was a dream. I 
 lifted my hand, and my arm found a resting-place 
 around his neck. My cheek was pressed to his 
 breast, and then I knew that this was my rightful 
 place forevermore. 
 
 John was walking by my side to help support 
 me, and he and the others talked all sorts of gay 
 nonsense, so that I might forget what had happened; 
 but I was too tired to remember or to care. 
 
 In the early morning light, the outlines of the 
 wagons were hardly to be distinguished, when we 
 at last arrived in camp. There were many whis- 
 pered questions and answers and then I found 
 myself in bed. John made it ready for me. I 
 asked for Anna, but hardly know if they answered 
 me or not, and yesterday was like a dream. 
 
PILGRIMS OF THE PLAINS 
 
 It is Monday night and we are still at Santa 
 Clara Springs. 
 
 I am not used to staying so long in one place. I 
 am not used to lying in bed, and it makes me fretful 
 and restless. No one seems to want to talk with 
 me about what happened on Eagle Mountain 
 and I want to know. But when the others were 
 at dinner, big Rob sat with me, and he answered 
 everything I asked him about Joe-Lu and the 
 Mexicans, and the Indians at Bent's Fort, and the 
 journey of the relief party down through the Raton 
 Pass, and how they found us, and all. 
 
 He said that the Indians around Bent's Fort 
 had learned of their coming, and they had "evap- 
 orated and skedoodled" before ever the soldiers 
 and our people arrived there. 
 
 "We left the supplies wi' auld man Bent, an' 
 came at a good gait, doon through the mountains, 
 an' there was nae incident exceptin' that we met 
 up wi' a surveyin' party, wha came wi' us for three 
 days' journey. An' your mon, Breunner, he made 
 it up wi' them that they are to go wi' him doon 
 into Mexico, perhaps, it's no all settled yet, but 
 that's the way they talked it! 
 
 "We cam along at the fine gait, an' doon into the 
 camp here at Santa Clara, an' the Captain was 
 a-sendin' the men oot after you, an' we were no to 
 
RIGHTFUL PLACE FOREVERMORE 323 
 
 [ 
 
 be left behind, ye understand! It were a sight, to 
 see Joe-Lu wi' Franchy an' Auguste! They poonded 
 each ither in the back, an' laughed, an' laughed, 
 like they was fey! An' Joe-Lu goin' wi' a hap-step- 
 an'-loup, like I never saw him do before! We nane 
 o' us thocht ye was in no danger, ye ken; an' so we 
 went up the hill an' we heard yer brither cry 
 oot! Then there was no holdin' Joe-Lu weel, ye 
 ken what happened after." 
 
 He went on to tell me how they had tried to get 
 down to where Joe-Lu lay upon the rocks, but there 
 were no ropes long enough to reach him. While 
 they were working and figuring what they should 
 do, they heard the rattle of loose stones in the 
 road above them, and secreted themselves, and 
 were just in time to surprise Ignacio and the other 
 Mexicans. 
 
 They made no resistance. Their leader, Arandez, 
 being gone, they submitted stolidly to their fate. 
 They hardly answered the questions that were put 
 to them only to say, 
 
 "Si, si, we drink we quarrel we say to 
 Arandez, 'That paper ours as much as yours 
 let us keep the map little part of the time, we be 
 all brothers and partners.' And he would not, he 
 curse and jeer at us, and we fire upon him! So 
 he leave us! Down there? Let him lie there! 
 
324 PILGRIMS OF THE PLAINS 
 
 Beast! The papers of the mine that they are 
 lost with him! That is thing we hate." 
 
 They were strapped to their horses' backs and 
 sent, with a guard, down to the prison at San 
 Miguel, sixty miles from here. 
 
 If I am not too tired I want to write about my 
 little waiting-maid, Marienella. John declared that 
 he could wait on me till we should get to Mora 
 where Anna is, or while I needed help, but the Dea- 
 con would not have it so. He sent Rob out to one 
 of the ranch-houses with instructions not to come 
 back without some girl who could act as nurse and 
 companion for me. The Deacon never stopped to 
 think that of all the men in camp Rob is the one who 
 has cared least to pick up anything of the Spanish 
 language. Rob, himself, would not mention it, 
 for he flatters himself that he can always make 
 himself understood, by gestures and speaking 
 very loud! So Rob undertook the errand. 
 
 "I went up to the hoose, an' there peerin' oot the 
 door were a right bonnie lass, an' I gaed in an' askit 
 her to come wi' me. There were twenty bairns 
 or maybe not quite so many a-hangin' round the 
 mither's skirts, but the ane I saw at the door were 
 the smartest ane amang them a', an' right clean an' 
 decent bodies they were. 
 
RIGHTFUL PLACE FOREVERMORE 325 
 
 ; 
 
 "An 5 1 made signs that there was a lady sick that 
 needed someone wi' her, an' I told them I was to 
 pay twa months ' wage, that is what the Deacon 
 bade me do. They was lookin' doubtfu', till I put 
 the money doon on the table, an' then ye should 
 ha' seen them smile! They made na mair hesitation, 
 but bundled up her bit claes, an' put her hand in 
 mine, and kissed her. Guid-hearted folk they be, 
 for the feyther and mither they kissed me! And I 
 told them ye would be good to their lass, and they 
 waved us good-bye, and here ye see us!" 
 
 Pretty good for Rob, seeing that he cannot speak 
 a dozen words in their language. 
 
 The little one is bright and gay, and saucy as a 
 squirrel. She is not pretty, but is good-natured 
 and deft, and she seems to know about nursing. 
 She keeps my pillows smooth, and turns them to 
 cool them, and fusses over me just enough, and 
 not too much. 
 
 I keep thinking about Anna, and worrying. 
 It seems so strange that she should have gone to 
 Moro. 
 
CHAPTER XXXIV 
 USE FOR THE PATCHWORK QUILT 
 
 WE are in the little Spanish town of Moro, 
 and the first time since we left Westport 
 we are under a roof, in the inn. They 
 told me that I would find my dearest Anna here. 
 
 As soon as my eyes rested upon Hiram standing 
 there before the tavern door I knew! He put a 
 trembling hand on my shoulder and I whispered, 
 "How are they?" His smile was all the answer 
 I needed! 
 
 There were tears upon my cheek, like a child, 
 I was abashed and afraid. Hiram opened the door, 
 and then my feet were swift enough! I stood 
 looking down upon my dearest, loveliest Anna, 
 and the little one lying upon her breast. 
 
 A pang went through my heart it was a thrill 
 of purest joy, but so sharp, so strong, it hurt as if it 
 were pain! I sank upon my knees, and buried my 
 face in the warm white pillow, and the baby threw 
 his hands about, and caught them in my hair, and 
 Anna had to uncurl the little fingers, so I could raise 
 my head to give her my first kiss, and she would 
 
THE PATCHWORK QUILT 327 
 
 not have it the first kiss had to be for the baby. 
 He is perfectly lovely, even if his features are 
 not developed to any great extent as yet, such 
 golden glittering silky curls, such soft and dimpled 
 flesh, such satiny baby-roseleaf skin and Anna 
 says his eyes are going to be blue! He would not 
 open them for me to see, though he was not asleep. 
 I told Anna I loved him more than I did her, and 
 I hadn't known him a half -hour! 
 
 The foster-mother of all the babies that have been 
 born in and around Moro, for thirty years, is Tia 
 Margarita. She is a crooked and stooped old 
 woman, her face criss-crossed with wrinkles, and the 
 wrinkles filled with dirt, but she handled baby 
 lovingly and daintily. 
 
 "The beautiful Senora not know much about 
 babies, so she have not the clothes ready for him. It 
 is no matter! There be plenty clothes in the vil- 
 lage. Every woman have the one fine garment for 
 her own to wear to church. When they know her 
 need, they bring to her, till I say, ' Enough ! ' Such 
 beautiful clothes, fit for child of the Alcalde! Si, 
 si! I make the little one his christening-robe. Yes, 
 I show it you! It is for altar-cloth I embroider it 
 for the Padre of the Chapel at San Miguel. But 
 for christening-robe for the child it is as good; 
 think you not so?" 
 
328 PILGRIMS OF THE PLAINS 
 
 As she laid the child again in his mother's arms 
 she drew smoothly over the bed Anna's gay patch- 
 work quilt, which had found its proper use at last, 
 to brighten the poor room where Anna's baby 
 was born, to cover the mother and child! 
 
 The room was the barest ever was no table, no 
 chair, only a shelf built into the wall, that served as 
 a bench; and the bed was of the same sort, an affair 
 built into the walls, made of poles covered with 
 stretched raw-hide, no tick and feather-bed, only 
 robes and blankets to make it soft and comfortable. 
 
 The floor was of hard beaten earth, almost like 
 stone, the walls of 'dobe whitewashed to a snowy 
 whiteness. Tia Margarita was not ashamed of the 
 room quite the contrary! 
 
 "See how clean the Dona Lucia keep it! The 
 window on the street do you see? Few houses 
 have window like that! But if one have many 
 daughters to marry there must be window for court- 
 ing. Six daughters had Dona Lucia, all married, 
 thanks to the window! Si, si, flowers, and sweeties, 
 and rings, and vows of love have passed through 
 these bars!" 
 
 She looked at me with what was meant to be an 
 arch and roguish smile. 
 
 "And if the pretty Sefiorita stay here but three 
 days, I promise there be many caballeros to 'eat 
 
THE PATCHWORK QUILT 329 
 
 the iron' that is how we say to look up at the 
 window, with the longing of love in their gaze. 
 They wait for hours to catch one glimpse of the 
 face, or perhaps a rose from the hand of the loved 
 one! Ah, yes, I have a tenderness for such! I 
 remember the days of my youth! La, la! I 
 stay and talk, and the Senorita is weary, and the 
 Dona Anna, she is already asleep! Buenos noches! 
 I leave you both to the care of the good God, 
 and the Virgin Mary, most blessed, and the holy 
 saints ! ' 
 
 Early this morning, Wednesday, Hiram came to 
 the tavern to take Anna down to the camp. Tia 
 Margarita seemed to think it quite safe for her to 
 go on with the caravan. 
 
 While Hiram was waiting in Moro, he employed 
 himself in making a hanging bed for Anna, so she 
 and the little one might ride as comfortably as 
 possible. 
 
 "So much trouble that baby is making you!" 
 So I say to Hiram, and he agrees with me that "a 
 baby is a great bother," yet he acts as if he were 
 rather proud of the boy! When we got into camp 
 the men were all around the wagon, and he wrapped 
 the child up in the gorgeous quilt and let them take 
 him in their arms. They handled him ae tenderly 
 
330 PILGRIMS OF THE PLAINS 
 
 as if he were fragile glass ! But he very soon showed 
 them he was real flesh and blood, for after he had 
 stared at them long enough, he began to kick and 
 squirm, and finally he cried, loud and strong. 
 
 The men looked at each other with grins of 
 delight. 
 
 "Now ain't that the real boy of it?" "He's sure 
 got a temper of his own!" "Shucks! I wouldn't 
 give a picayune for a boy that didn't have a temper! " 
 "Nor I wouldn't neither. I wa'n't a-sayin' but 
 what I thought 't was all right! No, siree! What 
 I'm a-sayin' is, that that there baby is actin' just as 
 a healthy, spunky boy baby oughter act!" "Tell 
 you, fellers, that sounds the purtiest of anythin' 
 I've heerd sence I left oP Missouri! It makes me 
 think a heap 'bout home, it does for a fac'!" 
 
 Marienella's feet hardly had time to touch the 
 ground, she was so busy with the thousand and one 
 things that needed to be done for the child and 
 for Anna and me. 
 
 Marienella is used to caring for children, for her 
 mother has nine younger than she! 
 
 "Surely yes, there is always a baby! I take 
 care of it while my mother she make the tortilla, 
 and plow garden, and raise chicken for to sell to 
 the caravan. Por cierto! most particular it is to 
 raise chicken they die most easy ! But the babies, 
 
THE PATCHWORK QUILT 331 
 
 I tend them and they grow like the flowers so 
 strong so pretty!" 
 
 The men were still gathered together discussing 
 the new arrival in camp, when Auguste and Franchy 
 came up to Hiram's wagon. They evidently had 
 something important to say. They hesitated, and 
 made two or three different beginnings, when 
 Franchy spoke out, abruptly, hurriedly: 
 
 "It be dis-a-way! We been t'inkin', Auguste an' 
 me, 'bout Joe-Lu! Nevair was no boy lak 'im, 
 w'ite lak anybody, inside, nevair lak no black man, 
 no slave! You know 'bout dat! We be dat glad 
 to see 'im, w'en we come back from Bent's Fort, 
 same lak 'e be real broder! We nevair know 'ow 
 much we t'ink of 'im, till dat time w'en we be away 
 from 'im, an' den we pound 'im on de back, lak 
 anyt'ing, an' we tell 'im, 'You goin' be rich, an' 
 famous, too, you rascal Joe-Lu! You goin' to go 
 to Paree!' We tell 'im, 'We give you de money, 
 your share in de goods we sell, so you go 'cross de 
 sea to France!' 
 
 "We plan to do dat fo' 'im, an' 'e dat glad! Den 
 we go up de mountain trail, an' t'ink no danger, 
 an' John Randall call an' 'e go to 'im, an' wrastle 
 wid Arandez an' now 'e be gone ! Poor Joe-Lu ! 
 An' it be lak dis! W 7 e cain't nevair touch dat 
 money dat was for to be Joe-Lu's, not if you will 
 
PILGRIMS OF THE PLAINS 
 
 take it fo' de babee, an' maybe name de babee fo' 
 Joe-Lu, eh? Das w'at we want know! Not de 
 name Joe-Lu jus' so, but Joseph Louis, eh? Dat 
 name soun' good, an' all right, maybe, fo' your li'l 
 boy? So dat dey be someone to keep de memory 
 so de name not die. De feedle it go wid de 
 name, an' maybe de li'l Joseph Louis 'e take to 
 dat feedle, learn to play 'im. Dat be de bes' t'ing 
 yet eef some day we come to see dat beeg boy, an* 
 'e play fo' us! Dat be fine, eh, Auguste? More 
 fine as anyt'ing in dis worl'! You not t'ink dat all 
 foolish, eh?" 
 
 Hiram looked at Anna. There was no doubt of 
 the answer they would give, and they never thought 
 even once about the money, I am sure! Anna said 
 softly, "Joseph Louis, and we could call him just 
 Louis while he is little, couldn't we?" So it was 
 decided. And then with Auguste and Franchy and 
 me for witnesses, Deacon Gentry took the child 
 in his arms, and touched its brow with water, and 
 gave it the name Joe-Lu's name Joseph Louis 
 Hubbard. 
 
 And the beautiful christening-robe, made from 
 the holy altar-cloth! We never thought of it till 
 long after the ceremony was over. 
 
CHAPTER XXXV 
 STAINED WITH A BLOOD STAIN 
 
 ERNST is asking me to go with him when he 
 goes down into Mexico, and that means that 
 we must be married almost at once! I am 
 not ready for that. I ought not to have to think 
 of marriage so soon when I have only just begun 
 to think of love! 
 
 "Marriage," Uncle Pliny once explained to me, 
 when he was talking of his "darter Loretty," "is 
 a mighty serious preposition, best way you take it! 
 Folks is borned different, and raised different, and 
 for any two to think they can go and get along 
 together all their days without some strainin' of 
 their tempers an' their feelin's why, it ain't to 
 be did, an' that's all they is to it! The woman has 
 to give up a lot of her idees, an' the man has to 
 change his way of thinkin' jest as much! They's 
 a lot fur them to larn, an' more fur 'em to unlarn, 
 before they can get to be right comfort'ble together! 
 That's the way it has got to be with every married 
 pair, I reckon!" 
 
PILGRIMS OF THE PLAINS 
 
 If that is what marriage means one surely ought 
 to give herself time to think, before she takes the 
 irrevocable step. 
 
 That sounds selfish and cold and unkind and I 
 do not want to be that, when it is Ernst that is 
 concerned. I do love and trust him unreservedly, 
 and I know what my answer will be. If he thinks 
 we ought to be married at once, I ought not to wish 
 to say no. 
 
 At noon to-day the caravan halted on the bank 
 of a little mountain stream that slipped through a 
 green meadow, quiet and still, so narrow we could 
 make the jump from bank to bank. Shallow and 
 innocent looking it was, but the ice-cold noiseless 
 current has dragged more than one man down to 
 death, the men say. Along the course of the brook 
 were straggling clumps of thin willows, and near 
 the camp was a group of young mulberry trees, all 
 thickly canopied with the wild-grape vine, forming 
 a natural leafy arbor. I was swinging in a hanging 
 loop of the knotted branches, and John and the 
 Deacon were discussing the trip into Mexico, when 
 John suddenly turned to me and said, in father's 
 own manner: 
 
 "There is one thing that's wrong, Deya. You 
 ought to be going with us, and you could if 
 
STAINED WITH A BLOOD STAIN 335 
 
 you would! You could marry Ernst, and then you 
 would not have to go back to Illinois alone, without 
 Anna or me. That's going to be lonesome for you, 
 and I don't think that mother would like it. You'll 
 be going one way, and we going the opposite, and 
 anything might happen to either of us and the 
 other one wouldn't know anything about it. There 
 isn't any need of it! The thing for you to do is to 
 marry Ernst, and go with us. I know he'd be more 
 than glad!" 
 
 I did not want the Deacon to hear. I did not 
 want him, or any stranger, to speak of this, till 
 Ernst and I should have settled it between us. The 
 Deacon is very conveniently deaf, at times, but 
 this was not one of those times, and he interrupted 
 John without apology. 
 
 "Such talk is foolish! Young people are getting 
 more and more heedless, with every year that passes, 
 it seems to me. Marriage is a solemn obligation, 
 not to be lightly considered or entered into without 
 due preparation ! And Deya is hardly more than a 
 child, not by any means sedate enough to take upon 
 herself the responsibilities of a wife! And if Ernst 
 and she were thinking of being married, I doubt if 
 a Protestant marriage could be properly performed 
 in Santa Fe. And in any case Deya should be 
 married at home, in her own church, with her 
 
PILGRIMS OF THE PLAINS 
 
 mother and sisters with her, in the presence of her 
 own relatives and friends." 
 
 These were some of the things I had been saying 
 to myself, but now, when the Deacon said them, 
 they someway did not sound so convincing. He 
 spoke with an air of finality, as if he had settled the 
 question for good and all, and that bad little 
 imp of perverseness that is inside of me began to 
 urge me to take a contrary view. 
 
 I wanted time to think it all over. I wanted to 
 be alone. I would not let even John go with me 
 when I rode out across the marshy meadow. But 
 the ride did not help me to think. It only tired me, 
 so I was glad to turn my horse's head back to the 
 camp. But I did not ride alone. The last part of 
 the way I was attended by a company of Mexican 
 soldiers who had ridden up from San Miguel to 
 make inspection of our goods. 
 
 It was a very shabby company; the men were 
 all rags and tatters, as regards the upper part of 
 their bodies, and mostly bare skin from the thighs 
 down ! The young officer in command a Captain 
 Paost de Brys was most civil, and made elaborate 
 apologies for the bad appearance of his troop. 
 
 "They are good fellows, the very devils in a fight, 
 but our government treats them most shabbily, 
 as you see to leave them half -clothed so, it is 
 
STAINED WITH A BLOOD STAIN 337 
 
 a shame! And the weapons, even, are what they 
 have taken from the thieves and desperadoes with 
 whom they have fought!" 
 
 As I was proceeding in leisurely fashion to our 
 part of the camp, I heard Captain de Brys explain- 
 ing to Captain Harrod that it was not ordinarily 
 the duty of the soldiery to make inspection for 
 the customs department; but that everything is at 
 "sixes and sevens" in Santa Fe, because of the 
 serious illness of the Gobernador, and that he should 
 perform this duty was a personal request from his 
 uncle the Chief of Customs, the Sefior Don Fran- 
 cisco de Velasco, "a noble of the old blood of Spain, 
 and a man of the most honorable!" 
 
 De Brys explained to Captain Harrod about 
 the tribute that would be exacted of us by the 
 officials of the towns through which the caravan 
 will pass. 
 
 "Yes, there is money that must be scattered with 
 a liberal hand. It is, to speak in plain terms, 
 bribe-money, no less. Yet it is the custom in this, 
 our unfortunate country, a custom that must be 
 followed if one wishes to do business with our 
 people. The underlings in the offices at Santa Fe 
 would not think they could put the scratch of pen 
 to paper unless their itching fingers were salved 
 with your gold; and not only that, but every petty 
 
338 PILGRIMS OF THE PLAINS 
 
 official in every little village will expect to be 
 substantially remembered. If your donation is 
 satisfactory they will be anxious to give you of their 
 services, but if not, they will hinder and cause you 
 trouble at every turn. Accident after accident, 
 and no one upon whom to fix the blame! A de- 
 plorable condition! Yes, but so it has been with 
 us these many years!" 
 
 He went on to say that no portion of this money 
 would be received 'by the Chief of Customs, the 
 Sefior de Velasco. Oh, no ! 
 
 "It is for those of another sort for those who 
 must live on insufficient salaries! They are not so 
 much to blame, for if they receive not these donations 
 they starve! Perhaps it would be more satisfactory 
 to you if two of your own men should go with us, 
 and themselves see to it that the gold is distributed 
 as I say." 
 
 I did not stay to listen any further, but rode across 
 to the grape-vine arbor, for I was wearied, and 
 anxious about other things. I stood by Aguilita's 
 side, and idly enough I passed my hands over the 
 saddle bags. There was a sound of broken glass, 
 clink, clink, that aroused my curiosity. Cautiously 
 I thrust my hand into the deep leather pocket. I 
 found in it a broken liquor-flask, tobacco, and a 
 purse that held a few Mexican gold-pieces. Then 
 
STAINED WITH A BLOOD STAIN 339 
 
 I thought, all at once, what saddle this was. It was 
 the one that had been on Aguilita when we came 
 down from Eagle Mountain. It was Arandez's 
 saddle! I was strangely excited. I felt that there 
 was some other discovery waiting for me. In the 
 very bottom of the bag was something soft and 
 silkily slimy something that crackled. I drew 
 out a package, stained with a brown stain, a package 
 done up in a dirty wisp of silk! This must be the 
 package of which Jose-Marie had spoken I was 
 sure of it! the package which that old Mexican 
 Senor, the one who was stabbed in Westport, had 
 worn about his waist! 
 
 I opened it documents stained and yellow with 
 age ! Yes ! A map showing a lake with four rivers 
 flowing into it, and a red cross, marking the entrance 
 to the "Glorieta" mine! 
 
 I stared at the old papers dumbly! The thought 
 flashed into my mind, "If no one has a better 
 right why shouldn't this treasure be mine?" But it 
 left me quicker than it had come, and left me 
 sick with repulsion! Crime-stained, blood-stained! 
 I would have naught to do with it! The sooner it 
 was out of my hands the better! I wrapped it 
 again in its ragged covering, and hid it in the folds 
 of my skirt, when I heard someone coming. It was 
 only John, and I told him what I had found, and 
 
340 PILGRIMS OF THE PLAINS 
 
 we agreed that we would put the package in Captain 
 Harrod's hands at once. 
 
 We found him talking with the young Capitan 
 Paost de Brys; but I told him there was something 
 of importance that he ought to know, and I tried to 
 explain about the map and the letters that were 
 with it. I suppose he thought it was a foolish 
 girl's foolish story, until I gave him the package, 
 when he unwrapped it, and saw for himself the 
 documents it contained. 
 
 Besides the map there were other papers, copies 
 of formal deeds and letters, written in the ancient 
 Latin characters. He called to Ernst to aid him in 
 translating, and together they went over them line 
 by line. 
 
 They were both satisfied that there could be no 
 doubt as to the genuineness of the old parchments 
 no doubt as to their value. And a conversation 
 they had with Paost de Brys convinced them that 
 there was a living heir to the property that same 
 Seiior Don Francisco de Velasco of whom he had 
 previously spoken. And this Don Francisco de 
 Velasco is brother to that old man who had come 
 to his death at the hands of Arandez and his com- 
 panions in Westport. 
 
 The subordinate officers were left to complete 
 the inspection of our goods; but Captain de Brys 
 
STAINED WITH A BLOOD STAIN 341 
 
 turned and rode back swift as his horse could carry 
 him to Santa Fe, to communicate the astonish- 
 ing news to the old Spanish aristocrat, the Senor 
 de Velasco! I suppose he has a wife and family, 
 and that they will rejoice over the fortune that will 
 be theirs a fortune beyond imagining, if the 
 accounts of the past production of the mine are to 
 be believed. And they will not have heard Jose- 
 Marie's horrible story but as for me, I am glad 
 to put the whole subject out of my mind! 
 
 Marienella was doing our little washing, quite as 
 if she were at home in her mother's house; and I 
 sat on an upturned tub and starched and patted, 
 and patted and starched our aprons and dresses, 
 while she hung out the plain things on the line. 
 And when everything was done, she came and sat 
 by me, and she looked at me shyly, and twisted her 
 fingers in the ruffles of my gown. 
 
 "There is something I think I want to tell you, l 
 very funny, so it will make you laugh, because 
 I be so silly, and not know, something about 
 I know not if I can tell you! I not tell Rob, 
 not never!" 
 
 I thought I knew her little secret! She has been 
 teaching Rob to speak her language, and a very 
 amusing study the romantic Spanish language can 
 
342 PILGRIMS OF THE PLAINS 
 
 be under certain circumstances, when the teacher 
 is so lively and eager and earnest, and the pupil so 
 purposely slow and stupid ! They have been fathoms 
 deep in love with each other, ever since they first 
 saw each other of that I was sure! but I did 
 not guess what it was she wanted to tell me ! 
 
 "Rob he say we be married soon! Yes, before 
 we come to Santa Fe! So when we go into that city 
 where sister of my father live, my Rob and me, 
 we be 'sposo and 'sposa husband and wife. Those 
 the most sweetest words in the world, is it not so? 
 Yes, and there be something else only it be such 
 shame to me! You will never say it to my Rob, 
 for I would not he should know of the foolishness 
 of me ! It is that I do not know Americano 
 custom of marriage, how Americano call them- 
 selves marry! I confess before you, I think Rob 
 same as marry me, when he only ask me go to be 
 maid to you! Yes, I not know any better! My 
 father, and my mother, and my sisters, they think 
 so too! Surely! In this country the people not 
 rich, and often they not afford to be priest-married. 
 That cost, and money is not! Afterward, long 
 time afterward, when they save what is required, 
 they get marry by Padre, and make great big 
 party! It nice to be marry like that, when they 
 can afford it, but it happens not so, not at first. 
 
STAINED WITH A BLOOD STAIN 
 
 They must marry more cheap. So man he give 
 little money to father and mother. They put 
 daughter's hand in his, and give to both of them 
 the kiss of blessing ! Then they be just like married ! 
 Everyone know that! 
 
 "That day when Americano come to our house 
 choose me out from the others put the money 
 on the table and motion many motions, and talk 
 all time loud and louder we not know what he 
 say, we think it declamation to marry ! I proud he 
 choose me, he so big, so strong, look so nice, I not 
 think anything but to say yes! My mother very 
 proud, too! They tell everyone I am wife of rich 
 Americano I 
 
 "When I see what mistake it is, I cry mucho, 
 mucho! But I laugh pretty soon I know it be 
 all right! First Mexicano word Rob learn to say 
 is, 'I want you for wife!' Is it not most wonderful, 
 most beautiful? I would not have my father's,' 
 sister, my aunt, in Santa Fe, to know of mistake my 
 mother think, and me! No! so we be really marry 
 with ring, husband and wife before ever they 
 see us, and they never know. I show them that 
 ring and some day I show my mother that ring, 
 too! She almost die with pride and joy! 
 
 "And this also I wish to ask you. Sometime 
 when we go back to Westport, where Rob's Aunt 
 
344 PILGRIMS OF THE PLAINS 
 
 Jeannie lives, will she be glad and proud for that 
 we marry, will she think me nice wife for her 
 nephew, the Senor Don Rob MacLeod?" 
 
 I put my arms around her and told her what I 
 am sure is perfectly true that everyone, when 
 they see her and come to know her, will be pleased, 
 and that Aunt Jeannie will love her dearly. 
 
 Her cheeks blushed red as a poppy, and she 
 laughed delightedly, and darted off to be with her 
 Rob. Later I saw her perched on the back of one 
 of the oxen he was driving, and I could only suppose 
 that she was hearing him say his lesson "I love 
 You love We love!" 
 
CHAPTER XXXVI 
 A TRUE-LOVE KISS 
 
 I THOUGHT that things in camp were unusually 
 and superlatively quiet. There is always a 
 reason for everything, and the reason for this 
 state of affairs is that Danny is no longer with 
 us. He and Stoneman have been sent on ahead 
 to Santa Fe with Captain de Brys. In going 
 through Las Vegas they must have stopped long 
 enough to give a very good impression of the 
 caravan, or possibly Danny and Stoneman, who 
 were deputized to be the distributors of our lar- 
 gesse, were particularly generous in their gifts to 
 the Alcalde and Padre. Whatever the cause, the 
 officials made high festival of our arrival in Las 
 Vegas. A salute was fired from guns on the church 
 walls. The streets were jammed with people of 
 the lower class; the roofs crowded with caballeros 
 and ladies, who threw flowers and confetti in our 
 path; and everywhere everyone was shouting "Los 
 Americanos! Los Americanos! La entrada de la 
 Caravana!" 
 
346 PILGRIMS OF THE PLAINS 
 
 Mexicans, mestizos, and Indians swarmed about 
 us, offering us everything conceivable in the way of 
 eatables and drinkables, water cool as the snows 
 of Mount Mofa, melons and apricots, onions and 
 beans, frijoles and chili con carne. We kept on pur- 
 chasing long after we were supplied with what we 
 needed, it seemed so impossible to refuse them! 
 
 A brood of half -naked little brown rascals dashed 
 at the carriage and fairly overwhelmed us. We 
 held our breath, we were so sure they would be 
 caught under the wheels and crushed, but they 
 feared nothing. They climbed up the legs of the 
 mules, they gathered like swarms of bees on the 
 sides of the carriage, and filled it to overflowing. 
 Only Marienella knew how to rid us of them! 
 Unceremoniously she tumbled them out on the hard 
 ground, and when they clung to the bows she 
 "smacked" their bare legs till they were glad to 
 let go. We threw some pennies out and they 
 scrambled for them in the dirt, and put them, dirt 
 and all, into their mouths, and then ran off shrieking 
 and laughing. 
 
 The women must have heard about the beautiful 
 Americano baby in our carriage, for they crowded 
 around, begging to see "un bonito nino, the sweet 
 baby!" Anna stood up in the carriage and held 
 up the boy, that they might gaze upon him. I 
 
A TRUE-LOVE KISS 347 
 
 know that never in their lives had they gazed upon 
 so lovely a picture. The sun shone full upon her, 
 making her dazzling fairness seem yet more fair, 
 and the baby's locks and her own bright tresses 
 caught the sun's rays and shone like spun gold! 
 With her blue veil blowing about her, and the glory 
 of the sun upon her, she did look like the holy 
 pictures of the saints in church and chapel, before 
 which these women had been accustomed to kneel 
 in prayer. 
 
 As soon as we were fairly settled in camp a deputa- 
 tion of the principal citizens called upon us. They 
 were most polite and courteous, assuring us that all 
 the town and all the people in it were entirely at 
 our service. A poor trifle in the way of entertain- 
 ment had been provided a fandango at the dance- 
 hall, a theatrical performance in the Plaza, the 
 citizens would receive as an evidence of friendly 
 feeling if we would so far honor them as to attend 
 these festivities. ^ 
 
 Farrell and John and Ernst and I are going to- 
 gether. I would not think of dancing, but after 
 they have made preparation for us, it would seem 
 uncivil if we absented ourselves. Farrell says he 
 will wear his dress suit and his lemon-colored kid 
 gloves! I suppose I ought to array myself in my 
 
348 PILGRIMS OF THE PLAINS 
 
 one real party gown, the red plaid silk with which 
 sister Lucy so thoughtfully provided me. 
 
 I did not wear the silk gown after all, but only 
 my pink sprigged lawn, which Anna said was quite 
 pretty enough for the occasion. 
 
 It was not yet dark when the people began to 
 assemble at the dance-hall. The church-bells were 
 rung to call the crowd together. The hall was a 
 dirty, low-ceilinged room, lighted with torches as 
 well as candles. When we arrived the air was filled 
 with a haze of flying dust and with the odors of 
 onions and peppers, and other odors not so whole- 
 some! Everything was dirty as possible walls 
 and floor and even the people in their fiesta attire 
 were not clean! But the music was enchanting! 
 
 The sweet thrumming of the guitars, the low, rich 
 notes of the violas, the soaring, vibrant tones of the 
 violins, it was all so captivating to the senses, 
 we were ready to declare the whole scene as lovely 
 as it was bizarre and strange. 
 
 There were people of every class present, chatting 
 familiarly together: the Alcalde and the ladies of 
 his family, the Cure and the Padre, and their 
 nieces, caballeros in velvet and lace, saucy, ragged 
 Mexican beauties, and vagabondish youths in tawdry 
 finery. Coquettish glances and bewildering smiles, 
 
A TRUE-LOVE KISS 349 
 
 like winged darts, flew recklessly in every direction, 
 glances and smiles meant not for any particular one, 
 but for any who might chance to be in the way of 
 them. 
 
 In the intervals between the dances the girls, 
 panting from the rapid motion, flushed from the 
 intoxication of the music, sat on the benches ranged 
 around the room, laughing and chattering and 
 gesticulating; eating and drinking everything offered 
 them by their solicitous swains. Generously they 
 shared their cakes and sugar-sticks with each other. 
 For convenience' sake these dainties were carried 
 about in their handkerchiefs, but not one refused 
 them on that account. Custom makes almost any- 
 thing seem right and proper. 
 
 We had not purposed to stay long at the dance- 
 hall, and as soon as we could slip away from those 
 in charge we did so. The musicians had been 
 playing a gay "Rigadoon," but when we were well 
 out in the middle of the room they changed all at 
 once into the slow, langorous measures of Strauss's 
 "Lorelei." Ernst's arm supported me, and we were 
 swept along with the throng of the dancers in the 
 delicious waltz. We went twice around the room. 
 Then the players gradually increased the tempo. 
 The waltz was degenerating into a giddy whirl, and 
 Ernst would not let me dance any longer. 
 
350 PILGRIMS OF THE PLAINS 
 
 When we reached the door of the hall we missed 
 Farrell Montgomery. A red-cheeked Senorita had 
 captured him. He was following us, and was about 
 to step out into the court-yard, when the pretty 
 maiden slipped and fell at his feet. Of course he 
 had to lift her up! And he had to go and get for 
 her a cup of sweet wine! And he had to take her 
 to her mother! And then he must ask her to dance 
 when she felt that she had fully recovered from the 
 effect of the accident. If Twank had not appeared 
 upon the scene and taken the little lady off his 
 hands, Farrell might have had to stay till the dance 
 was over perhaps a not unwilling captive. As 
 it was, the Senorita of the rosy cheeks took and kept 
 one of his lemon-colored gloves to remember " the 
 so happy occasion!" 
 
 Three Spanish youths in picturesque attire were 
 waiting to show us the way to the Plaza, where the 
 theatrical performance was to be given. We were 
 surprised to find that it was to be literally and 
 exactly in the Plaza! There was no opera-house. 
 There was no theater building. The only stage 
 was the porch in front of the tavern. The pit, the 
 dress-circle, the balcony and the gallery, all were 
 on the same level, and that was the level of the 
 pavement. The audience were seated on the ground 
 senores, senoras, muchachos, muchachitas, tod- 
 
A TRUE-LOVE KISS 351 
 
 dling babies, pet dogs, stray goats, and sleepy 
 pigs! 
 
 The "boxes" reserved for us as the guests of 
 honor were only benches covered with tapestries 
 and rugs. Instead of footlights and big chandelier, 
 there were torches placed on each side of the stage. 
 
 The stage manager must have been waiting our 
 arrival, for as soon as we were seated the bugle 
 blew a long note and the heavy curtains were drawn 
 back. Two toreadors, from Spain, went through 
 the evolutions of the bull-fight, but with wholly 
 imaginary bulls as their victims. 
 
 The stage had no charms for me; I was too much 
 engaged in watching the people around me. Never 
 before had I seen an assemblage like this. Ernst's 
 eyes met mine with a smile, as together we noted 
 the rapt absorption of the people in the doings on 
 , the stage their unconsciously uttered exclama- 
 tions, their sympathetic, responsive gestures. An 
 enthusiasm so genuine is contagious, and I was 
 preparing to enjoy the mimic bull-fight with them, 
 when I noticed Iggy Beauchemie making his way 
 through the crowd to us, trying by signs to make 
 Ernst understand that he was wanted. The sur- 
 veyors, whom Ernst met up in the Raton mountains, 
 had just arrived in camp, and they had asked that 
 Ernst be sent for at once as they were in haste to go 
 
352 PILGRIMS OF THE PLAINS 
 
 on to Santa Fe. Ernst made excuses to the Alcalde, 
 and followed Beauchemie out of the Plaza, and only 
 Enos Quackenbos and John were left to look after 
 Deya. 
 
 I wished that I might have left the theater with 
 Ernst. I was really weary. The wind that swept 
 through the Plaza was sharp and cool, and I shiv- 
 ered as I drew my shawl closer around me. I 
 thought regretfully of the big campfire, and wished 
 I were there, curled up at Anna's feet, with nothing 
 to do but watch the bright flames. 
 
 I was startled by the clashing of the heavy rings 
 as the curtains were again drawn back. The drama, 
 "Dolores," the main performance of the evening, 
 was about to begin. I did not expect to be greatly 
 interested, but my attention was caught and held 
 from the very first. Someway it seemed not at all 
 like acting. The little actress who played the part 
 of Dolores was truly a person of genius. When the 
 curtains were drawn aside we saw her, a little 
 ragged girl playing with the children of the street. 
 She was capricious, tantalizingly sweet and be- 
 witching, and naughty! She wanted to be so! It 
 was such fun to tease the poor water-carrier who 
 loved her so humbly and so devotedly! She 
 laughed at him! She made him believe such a 
 very foolish story she wrote him a note saying 
 
A TRUE-LOVE KISS 353 
 
 that she had been carried off by the brigands of the 
 mountains, by Massaroni and his band who had 
 not been seen in their old haunts for years! He 
 thought it was true, and she wickedly laughed at 
 his simplicity. From her hiding-place she watched 
 him follow the trail she had marked out for him, 
 to Massaroni's secret cave. Oh, indeed it was most 
 amusing to fool the poor boy! Then she learns 
 that the brigands have really returned, and she 
 realizes that she has sent her Sanchez into the very 
 den of the thieves. His life will pay the forfeit of 
 her folly! They will think him a spy. They will 
 surely kill him ! 
 
 A storm of passion overwhelmed her. In the 
 agony of that moment she became a woman, a 
 woman who loved deeply and truly. She resolves 
 to follow the path she had marked out for her lover. 
 She will save him, or die with him! He must not 
 die till she has told him that she loves him has 
 always loved him! 
 
 Her dark eyes, lustrous, magnificent, fiery, swept 
 across the sea of faces in the Plaza: they flashed a 
 single piercing beam into my own eyes, into my 
 very heart, and from that moment I was no more 
 myself I was that Dolores! 
 
 Her face, now irradiated with hope, now darkened 
 by despair, is turned to the mountain. The way 
 
354 PILGRIMS OF THE PLAINS 
 
 is rough that she must travel. The rocks are high 
 and threatening where she must pass. She stum- 
 bles through tangled thickets. She loses herself 
 in interminable forests. What is this? "A scarf 
 that Sanchez has worn!" Yet he is not here! She 
 is always and always just one little minute 
 too late! I forget that all this is not really true, 
 I forget that this is a stage picture. Dolores is 
 myself, it is my heart that is wrung with anguish, 
 and fear, and sense of utter loss! I cannot bear 
 it, and I turn away my face that I may not see the 
 tragedy that I feel is impending. 
 
 There is a rapturous cry, a cry of joy! She sees 
 her beloved! He is yet alive, though in the hands 
 of the brigands. Ah! it is Massaroni who first 
 beholds her. He stabs Sanchez to the heart, and 
 flings him upon the stones. She is there to receive 
 him, to cradle him in her arms, to weep over him, to 
 kiss his pale brow. 
 
 The torches that had lighted the stage flared in 
 the strong night-wind, flickered, and went out. 
 Only the moon's pale beams fall upon her, as she 
 kneels by the side of her beloved. 
 
 "Sanchez! Sanchez! I am here! Your own 
 Dolores! Dost thou not hear me when I say I 
 love thee? I love thee, O my love! forever and 
 forever! In life, in death, I love thee! Thou 
 
A TRUE-LOVE KISS 355 
 
 hearest me not! Thy lips have no kisses of love and 
 forgiveness for me ! I hold thee to my heart 
 but never, oh, never, wilt thine arms enfold me in 
 love's embrace! Thou dost not know! Thou wilt 
 never know! Yet I will join thee, where thou art, 
 my dear one! Tarry only one moment, till I make 
 my peace with God! Then I will go with thee 
 to be with thee, forever!" 
 
 The moon shone upon her uplifted face. She 
 signed herself with the sign of the cross. Lovingly 
 and tenderly and slowly she withdrew the dagger 
 from his yet warm heart and suddenly, swiftly, 
 she drove it to the hilt in her own breast! 
 
 Oh, even now I cannot think of it! It is not 
 right to think of such things, and it was not true. 
 It was not true though it seemed like truth. The 
 world of tragedy and pain and loss is not the real 
 world. The real world, thank God ! is a happy world ! 
 And my love is mine, only waiting for me to give 
 my heart into his keeping! So I said, over and 
 over again to myself, as John and I made our way 
 back through the silent crowd, through the silent 
 streets, till we reached the circle of the camp. 
 
 The fire was blazing bright and high, and there 
 was Anna playing with the little Louis, tossing him 
 as she sang "Rockabye Baby on the Tree Top," 
 
356 PILGRIMS OF THE PLAINS 
 
 and she looked up at Hiram and laughed as the 
 boy sprang almost out of her arms! They were so 
 absorbed in each other they did not see me, or guess 
 that I was there. A mist clouded my eyes. There 
 was an aching void in my heart, a wound that would 
 not be healed. I wanted to see Ernst, I wanted to 
 ask him to forgive me for being cold and selfish 
 unloving. I saw him pacing up and down, and as 
 if my feet had wings I went to him. I was gathered 
 close close to his breast. Of my own will I 
 kissed him the first true-love kiss my lips had 
 ever given him, the kiss that a maiden should give 
 to the one to whom she has given her heart, to 
 whom she has promised herself. 
 
 That kiss meant many things. In it was the 
 memory of all I had just witnessed despair and 
 fear, and a strange rapture that had never stirred 
 in my heart till then. I tried to tell him all I felt 
 in a single word. It was just his name Ernst, 
 Ernst! that I uttered; that was all, yet he knew! 
 
 He asked me no question, but I answered him, 
 as if he had, "Yes, oh, yes!" And I whispered the 
 words that Dolores had said they belonged to 
 me! "I love thee, my love! In life, in death, I love 
 thee!" And without further speech we knew that 
 for us there would be no more parting. 
 
CHAPTER XXXVII 
 THE OWNER OF THE MINE 
 
 AROUND us are the towering masses of the 
 mountains, bold, bare, jagged peaks, high 
 shaggy hills covered with thick forests. 
 Some of these steep hills we have to climb; some- 
 times there are deep rifts and chasms through which 
 we pass from one fertile valley to another. 
 
 As we come near the towns we find rich fields and 
 gardens carefully tended. On garden walls and 
 on the roofs of the low-built houses, the prickly 
 pear grows, and its bright blossoms help to make 
 the bare, blank walls seem not quite so ugly and 
 forbidding. In the States the poorest villages are 
 pretty, but the towns here have no redeeming fea- 
 tures. There are no separate houses, with neat 
 piazzas, glass-paned windows; no strip of green 
 lawn and double row of flowers along the front 
 walk. There is nothing but bare road and bare, 
 prison-like walls on either side. The grated win- 
 dows are few and small and far between. The big 
 double doors that give access to the court-yards 
 are like rough barn-doors, and the court-yards are 
 
358 PILGRIMS OF THE PLAINS 
 
 like barn-yards, for the stables and the cow-pen and 
 the pig-pen open upon them the living-rooms of 
 the family, also! 
 
 The women are frowzy and dirty, but they know 
 how to drape their rebosas gracefully about them, 
 and each wears a flower in her hair. They seem 
 bright and vivacious and good tempered, and the 
 young girls are, almost all of them, beautiful. 
 
 It is impossible to realize that these people, who 
 crowd around us with smiles and compliments, can 
 be the hard, wickedly cruel creatures of whom we 
 read and hear. But, as Uncle Pliny says: 
 
 "You-all ain't noticin' that it is mostly women 
 and children that we sees. They is plenty of ugly 
 cut-throats what's standin' back, an' sayin' nothin', 
 only they takes good care to pocket the money we 
 hands out so free an' plenty. 
 
 "Some of 'em 's right desprit fellers, an' they 
 ain't no tellin' what devilment they won't be up 
 to. And even the littlest ones ain't none too good. 
 They'd steal the nuts off n the wagons, if we didn't 
 keep our eyes peeled ! An' them bigger ones over 
 yander, with the fishpoles on their shoulders, 
 well, it ain't ten minutes ago that I ketched them 
 very boys a-throwin' their fish-hooks into the back 
 of my grocery wagin, a-haulin' out whatever come! 
 They got my wammus, an' thar they was, a-quar- 
 
OWNER OF THE MINE 359 
 
 relin' over the money that was in the pockets, 
 an' not a bit flustered when I tackled 'em 'bout 
 sech bare-faced stealin'. * Found it in the road!' 
 they kept sayin', an' that were all the satisfaction 
 that was to be got out'n them. 
 
 "Tell you! These here mixed bloods half 
 Spanish an' half Portugee, an' half Injun or nigger, 
 an' Lord knows what else! they's a mighty bad 
 prep'sition! Born without 'n no moral sense, so 
 they don't know what right an' wrong is. An' I'm 
 a-tellin' you, when I think 'bout this here Mexico 
 country a-tryin' to be a Republic like our'n, I says 
 to myself, 'For the Lord's sake, however can they 
 expect to run a Gov'ment, with critters like these 
 here a-votin'!' Like the Israelites of old, I reckon 
 they'll have to serve their 'prenticeship to decency, 
 forty year a-wanderin' in the Wilderness, with the 
 Lord's chastenin' hand heavy upon them, before 
 ever they'll be fitten to govern theirselves. That 
 is how the Deacon sizes it up, an' I 'grees with the 
 Deacon." 
 
 Here, at San Miguel, there is an ancient Pueblo 
 village, which I very much wished to visit. It is 
 built tier on tier, terrace above terrace, with ladders 
 going from one story to another, with cistern-lids in 
 the roofs, to serve as doors to the rooms beneath. 
 
360 PILGRIMS OF THE PLAINS 
 
 I wanted to ask the Indian girls how they managed 
 to get water enough to do house-keeping with, up 
 those ladders, up to the fifth story! I wanted to go 
 through the better part of the town, where the 
 Spanish fort and Chapel and the old Spanish resi- 
 dences were grouped together; but we were too 
 late in arriving to permit of sight-seeing excursions, 
 and they say we are to leave here before daylight 
 to-morrow morning, so we may reach Santa Fe if 
 possible on Saturday night. 
 
 Who has been here but that august personage 
 himself, the Senor Don Francisco de Velasco! He 
 came, he saw, he departed, taking with him those 
 documents in regard to the " Glorieta " mine, which 
 of course rightfully belong to him! I think Captain 
 Harrod must^have had some communication from 
 him before he arrived, some proof of the legality 
 of his claim to the papers, for when he made his 
 appearance all this seemed to be perfectly under- 
 stood between them. 
 
 He is an aristocratic and stately old Spaniard, 
 a person of intellect and power. The three friends 
 who came with him treated him with a respect that 
 could not be exceeded if he were of the blood royal! 
 He was really gentle in manner, and suave and 
 courteous, as a royal prince is supposed to be. 
 
OWNER OF THE MINE 361 
 
 I was startled when Captain Harrod suddenly 
 appeared beside me, and thrust that package into 
 my hands, the package which I already knew too 
 well, and said: 
 
 "This was of your finding. It is for you to give 
 it into the keeping of the Senor de Velasco. He is 
 the head of the Velasco family, the descendant in 
 direct line of the Luis de Velasco who was sole 
 owner of the 'Glorieta.' The papers belong to him, 
 and he desires to receive them from your hands!" 
 
 I could not refuse; I could not think what to say. 
 As the 'Senor bowed his courtly bow, I awkwardly 
 held out the packet, and he took it with an eager- 
 ness that he could not altogether repress. He 
 looked at me and tried to smile nonchalantly. 
 "How is one to believe that anything so wonderful 
 should happen?" But even as he spoke, his hands 
 were tearing at the wrappings, his eye, sharp and 
 brilliant as the eye of a hawk, was darting from 
 page to page. 
 
 "Even if I wished to disbelieve I could not. It 
 is even as Paost de Brys assured me." 
 
 He showed the old and yellowed map. 
 
 "This lake of the four rivers the hill of the 
 broken peak the two pine-trees ! This place we 
 know. I, myself, have hunted over every foot of 
 it. At night my tent has been raised between those 
 
362 PILGRIMS OF THE PLAINS 
 
 two great pines over the spot where is the secret 
 entrance to the 'Glorieta, 5 as the cross on the map, 
 here, shows. This letter written by the slave, 
 Juan! We know of Juan, the faithful one who 
 helped his master Luis de Velasco to escape to 
 Spain, when other Spanish landholders were mur- 
 dered in their beds. Yes, surely, this is written in 
 the records of the family. Also we know of the 
 mine the great riches of it! We think it lost 
 forever, for when the revolution is crushed, and the 
 family return to this country, there was naught to 
 show where it had been, no records left, the stupid 
 sullen slaves silent as the grave. It was a legend 
 only, to tell the children, for them to build foolish, 
 never-to-be-realized hopes upon. 
 
 "And that the dream should at last come true 
 that the ancient documents of proof should have 
 been, in some strange way, preserved, and thus 
 strangely recovered, and given to us of the fifth 
 generation! It is a miracle! a miracle in very 
 truth!" 
 
 He looked up and brushed his hands across his 
 eyes, as if he were dazzled by a blinding light. 
 
 "Yes, Senores," and his utterance was rapid and 
 broken, "yes, you may understand, that at the first 
 when de Brys first told me of these things, I thought 
 he was drunken, crazed. Yet as he spoke, more 
 
OWNER OF THE MINE 363 
 
 and more the truth made itself apparent. In my 
 heart I believed. At his beseeching I sent him, 
 with a few whom I could trust, to uncover the 
 mine, to burrow under the sliding rock to discover 
 the entrance. There is no doubt! They will find 
 it ! Within the fortnight the ' Glorieta ' will be again 
 open, her treasures uncovered, brought out into the 
 light of day!" 
 
 He staggered as if he were overcome with wine. 
 
 "Pardon me, I am overwrought. So much of 
 joy the heart unsustained may not bear!" 
 
 He was not ashamed to kneel there, before us all, 
 and murmur a prayer of thankfulness and praise 
 to God, the Virgin, and the saints. And he did 
 not rise, until he had quite regained his composure. 
 
 And then he drew me to him and kissed my brow, 
 and he held me by the hand while he endeavored 
 to express the gratitude that burdened his heart. 
 In the extravagant Spanish way of speaking, he 
 protested that all he had, all he ever expected to 
 have, I and my friends were to consider as our own. 
 
 He, his wife, his sons, and all who belonged to 
 him, were our servants to command! 
 
 "Indeed, I speak but the plain truth when I say 
 to you that if I were to spend a lifetime in the effort 
 to serve you, it would be recompense inadequate 
 for this that I have received from your hands. 
 
364 PILGRIMS OF THE PLAINS 
 
 There are many who if they had found the map 
 the papers would have kept the secret, that they 
 might secure for themselves the treasures of the 
 mine. So it might have been done x and no one 
 would have known! No one could have called you 
 to account ! Such generosity such high sense 
 of honor! When de Brys tell me, I say, 'It is diffi- 
 cult to believe!' There are no words that I can 
 say, only that I must not forget to say the words 
 my wife, the Dona Felda, put in my mouth to say 
 to the young Sefiorita. Oh, surely she knows of 
 you, all that Paost de Brys could tell her, and he 
 has eyes, yes, indeed! And I am to say to you that 
 she will be of a desolateness, so she would wish to 
 die of grief and shame, if you should deny her, 
 when she begs of you that you will make our house 
 your home, to remain with us as our honored guest, 
 our beloved daughter, during your stay in our city. 
 There are relatives already summoned from Chihua- 
 hua, and Santa Rosalia, nephews and nieces, who 
 will help to make the time pass pleasantly for you. 
 Oh, there will be feasting and merry-makings, I 
 promise you!" 
 
 I looked across to Ernst and smiled. The Senor's 
 piercing black eyes intercepted the glance, and 
 he did not need to be told that all that concerned 
 me, concerned Ernst also. If I had been, indeed, 
 
OWNER OF THE MINE 365 
 
 his own daughter, he could not have been more 
 delighted, more thoughtful and considerate! He 
 questioned Ernst, and when he found the wedding 
 is to be so soon, he asked permission to attend to 
 the necessary preliminary formalities. As Deacon 
 Gentry had said, it is an affair of some little diffi- 
 culty for a Protestant to be properly married in 
 this Catholic country, but through the Senor's 
 influence it can be arranged. 
 
 He is taking on his shoulders all of our perplexi- 
 ties. The Captain's face showed the relief he felt 
 when Velasco undertook to arrange the matter that 
 brought Captain Harrod to the West the settle- 
 ment of the Olivarez estate, and the protection and 
 care of Inez, Olivarez's little daughter. She is to 
 be taken from the nunnery, where she is held as a 
 prisoner, and adopted into the Velasco family. 
 
 "Always has the Dona Felda lamented that there 
 was no daughter, no sister, to grow up with our 
 two sons. She will rejoice to receive this little one, 
 and as to the property of her father, Manuel 
 Olivarez, it is confiscate to the Mexican govern- 
 ment. And here, too, I am in a position to help 
 you. It was through a conspiracy of Armijo and 
 others of his sort that the theft was accomplished. 
 Armijo is ill, very ill indeed; and in the conduct of 
 my own business I have been obliged to examine 
 
PILGRIMS OF THE PLAINS 
 
 all papers, even those of the Gobernador. The 
 evidence is there where I can lay my hands upon it 
 yes, I have the papers to prove what I say. 
 
 "For the Seiior Harrod it would be better that 
 he should go down into Mexico with his friend, the 
 Sefior Breunner. Surely, yes! I will put those 
 papers of which I speak into your hands, and you 
 shall take them and give them to Santa Anna. 
 You shall make statement to him. What is to be 
 done in Santa Fe, I will attend to that. It will be 
 well that you do not appear in the city, so it will 
 not be thought that there is an inquiry in progress. 
 From this place, San Miguel, you can cross over by 
 the White Lakes to San Pedro, and wait your party 
 there. There will be no mischance to the caravan, 
 because of your absence. An escort of cavalry 
 from the fort will easily be secured. 
 
 "Yes, indeed! We will wrest this inheritance of 
 the little Dona Inez from the hands of those who 
 would rob her. The sum is of a largeness to justify 
 our efforts to secure it. Also, it will be of the great- 
 est pleasure to me, that I cross this Gobernador in 
 his wicked plans. So I repay him for the thousand 
 slights and humiliations he has put upon me. Me! 
 The true descendant of the Velascos, in whose 
 presence he is not worthy to appear! Ah, you do 
 not know what he is, or how our city has been given 
 
OWNER OF THE MINE 367 
 
 over to the spoiler. So much of cruelty! So much 
 of treachery! Such breaking of solemn oaths! 
 Such profligacy in the high places of government! 
 Armijo shall receive a rebuke from Santa Anna. 
 Yes, Santa Anna has the power, if he chooses to 
 exercise it, to curb and check, to put the iron bit 
 in his mouth. It is to the influence of the Velascos, 
 and their friends, that Santa Anna owes it, this 
 power, so he will not wish to deny me any favor I 
 ask him. Yes, you will see! This much I may 
 surely promise you." 
 
 Ernst and the Captain and the Senor Velasco 
 have gone over to the Fort for a conference with 
 the officers there. Captain Harrod did not think 
 to give us the opportunity to bid him farewell. We 
 will not see him again till we arrive in San Pedro, 
 on our way to Mexico. 
 
CHAPTER XXXVIII 
 THE BLESSING OF THE CARAVAN 
 
 WHEN the escort of soldiers, whom Senor 
 de Velasco had arranged for, came into 
 camp at daybreak this morning, they 
 found the wagons ready to "string out" and start. 
 The men are more and more eager to get on, and 
 "make time," but it is a case of "the more haste, 
 the less speed." There were three break-downs, 
 from carelessness and reckless driving, before the 
 caravan had gone three miles. 
 
 The wagons could only creep along when we came 
 to Canoncita Pass, the path was so rough. All the 
 light there was, was the little that filtered in through 
 the heavy foliage of the pine-trees that edged the 
 canyon. It was cold and damp down there and 
 Ernst and I mounted our ponies, and rode on ahead, 
 up into the sunshine. We passed along close to the 
 brink of dizzy precipices, where a little misbehavior 
 on the part of the horses would have sent us to our 
 death. I could hardly believe the road was wide 
 
BLESSING OF THE CARAVAN 
 
 enough for the wagons I was sure there was not 
 an inch to spare. 
 
 The teams that travel these dangerous roads must 
 all wear bells, as warning to others who may wish 
 to pass them on the narrow road. "Up-going 
 teams, straight ahead! Down-going teams, pull out 
 and wait." This is the rule of the mountains, a 
 necessary rule for the safety of all travelers. 
 
 Ernst and I had drawn rein, where a tiny thread 
 of water trickled across the path. We watered 
 the horses, and sat down to rest there till the caravan 
 should overtake us. We heard the grinding of wheels 
 on stones, and saw above us a string of Mexican 
 carts rounding a curve in the road. 
 
 The track here was wide enough for passing, and 
 we surely thought the carts would stop. We could 
 hear plainly enough the bells of the caravan, sound- 
 ing not so very far away. But the Mexican who 
 was in charge of the little cavalcade was going right 
 on, when Ernst spoke, explaining that it was a big 
 caravan that was coming up the trail, and that the 
 road was narrow further on. The surly fellow made 
 us no answer, and he tried to urge his skinny ox- 
 teams to a faster gait! He was in a wickedly ugly 
 state of mind. He swore at the boys that were 
 driving the teams. He kicked the oxen in the sides. 
 He beat the mule he was riding, and rowelled its 
 
370 PILGRIMS OF THE PLAINS 
 
 flanks unmercifully with his sharp pointed spurs. 
 And when we tried to go by him, he would not 
 yield us one inch of the way, and we had to dis- 
 mount and lead the ponies by, along the slippery 
 side-hill. 
 
 And the two caravans met, where the road was 
 the narrowest, where there was no room for turning 
 back, no room at all for passing. I asked myself, 
 "What will they do? What can they do? They 
 cannot go on, and they cannot stay here forever!" 
 It made me think of that old puzzle question in the 
 back of the Philosophy book: "When a body that 
 is irresistible meets a body that is immovable what 
 happens?" I have forgotten what the answer to 
 that was, but I know how our people solved their 
 problem. Without heeding that Mexican any more 
 than if he had been a wooden statue, they unhitched 
 his teams from his carts, and set their own shoulders 
 to the wheels, and backed them up that steep, 
 steep hill till they came to a place wide enough for 
 passing, and there they set them out at the side of 
 the road and left them! 
 
 The Mexican was furious ! He swore and swore 
 till his face was spotted and blotched from anger. 
 He jerked at the reins of his mule so viciously that 
 it reared and threw him. He was on his feet that 
 very same instant, and when the poor frightened 
 
BLESSING OF THE CARAVAN 371 
 
 beast did not rise, he drew his knife, a long ugly 
 shining knife, and struck the animal in the neck, 
 again and again! The blood spurted out, and dyed 
 the ground red; and then he came to his senses, as 
 if it was his brain that had been relieved by the 
 blood-letting. He hurriedly snatched up dust from 
 the road, and stuffed it into the open wounds, to 
 stop the bleeding, and the trembling beast made 
 an effort to get upon its feet; but in its struggle it 
 slipped over the edge of the narrow path, and went 
 crashing down, and lodged at last against an 
 up-jutting rock, just where the cliff dropped per- 
 pendicularly to the river. 
 
 And now there was another Ernst there before 
 me, in the place of my gentle Ernst. His cheeks 
 blazed red! His voice was sharp and harsh! He 
 seized that Mexican by his jacket and forced him 
 over the brink, out upon the steep and slippery 
 slope, not hesitating to follow him himself. He 
 slipped a loop of a lazo-rope around the Mexican's 
 arm and around his own waist to help him if he 
 should stumble. 
 
 The two of them made their way down to the 
 place where the mule was lying. Their dark forms 
 showed sharply against the paleness of the distant 
 valley so far, so far, below! We held our breath 
 as we looked! The mule was paralyzed with fright, 
 
372 PILGRIMS OF THE PLAINS 
 
 and the man was terror-stricken to the point of 
 idiocy. He stood trembling while Ernst put the 
 ropes around the mule's body and helped to lift it 
 over the obstructing stones as our men drew it 
 slowly upward. The Mexican was left to make the 
 ascent the best way he could. Nobody gave any 
 thought to him. But by the time the wounds 
 were dressed, and the beast was on its feet, the 
 Mexican was there, ready to climb again into the 
 saddle; and he was such a pitiable figure, that Ernst 
 helped him a little, and put the reins in his hands. 
 And so the two, the abused mule, and the abusive 
 Mexican, went along up the trail, to take their 
 places beside the carts, there to wait the passing 
 of the caravan. 
 
 It was long and tedious work, to wheel all those 
 carts up the hill, and those of us who were not 
 actively employed were given a little holiday time, 
 till the bugle should summon us back to the wagons 
 again. 
 
 High above us was a most enticing spot, a peaked 
 point of rock, the very topmost bit of solid earth, 
 for miles around. John said I must not try to go 
 up there, but Ernst said I might, so I did. Ernst 
 expected that I would let him almost carry me, 
 he is strong enough, but I knew I was able to climb 
 
BLESSING OF THE CARAVAN 373 
 
 the rock, all by myself. It is surely with me as 
 Uncle Pliny says: 
 
 "It ain't nowise a bad thing for a person to get 
 into a cruel tight place, sometimes ef they don't 
 gin up, ef they goes through it with good courage. 
 Seems like they is somethin' deep down in ever' one 
 of us, stronger than we ordinary knows on. We 
 gets into a hard place where they ain't seemin'ly 
 any way out of, an' that strength comes a-surgin' 
 up, an* we uses it reckless like, maybe, not knowin* 
 how it is goin' to last us, an' somehow, it lasts us 
 through. An' after we once gets a-holt of it, an' 
 uses it that-a-way, it ain't never goin' to leave us. 
 An' it helps us a heap of times, all through our 
 lives." 
 
 The hill was steep above us, but it was not too 
 difficult for me. We reached the topmost top, and 
 found there a level place, almost big enough for 
 half a dozen people to stand on, and a stone seat 
 almost big enough, just big enough, for two! 
 
 The strong wind tried to lift us and carry us 
 upward and away, but we were not ready yet to 
 leave this beautiful earth. 
 
 Far below us lay the green valley, its bright colors 
 and all its outlines softened and subdued by the 
 tremulous heat waves that rippled in between. 
 There was the sparkling river, winding in and out 
 
374 PILGRIMS OF THE PLAINS 
 
 between clustered groups of trees, and there were 
 little villages with orchards and gardens, and, 
 rising around us on every side, tree-clad hills thrust- 
 ing themselves upward boldly, receding, melting 
 through infinite gradations of tone and color into 
 the masses of the distant mountain-peaks. Wander- 
 ing filmy clouds floated over and around them till 
 we could hardly discern which was cloud and which 
 was mountain. One seemed as ethereal and unsub- 
 stantial as the other. 
 
 We had taken the first steps in the descent, when 
 we heard Marienella's gay laugh. Rob was with 
 her, and they showed us another way down, much 
 easier than the way by which we had come. And 
 Marienella and I went ahead, leaving the men to 
 loiter as they would. 
 
 She chattered incessantly, but I knew that a part 
 of her attention was given to what Rob was saying. 
 Very particular and very private matters it was 
 they were discussing, but Rob's voice is not a small 
 one, and we did not need to lose a single word he 
 said. He was inquiring how two people were to be 
 married in this country, if one is Catholic and the 
 other Scotch Presbyterian! Would it be the Ameri- 
 can Consul that would arrange it? 
 
 And then, as we stopped and waited for them, he 
 went on: 
 
BLESSING OF THE CARAVAN 375 
 
 "Marienella an' me, we are no goin' to wait till 
 we get to Santa Fe to be marrit, ye ken. Na, na! 
 The weddin' is to be in the camp before we come to 
 the city. I'm no sae sma' that I needs to be a 
 coward, in ordinar' cases, but it's a fearfu' thing to 
 think o' me, wi' the lassie on my arm, a-walkin' up 
 the aisle of they strange kirk, an' to hae a strange 
 meenister or priest, or whatever, wi' his gew-gaw 
 vestments on him, a-spierin' his questions at us, 
 an' the strange folk a-lookin' on. It maks my knees 
 to be a-clackin' togither wi' fear. I'm no denyin' 
 of it. Na, na! We'll be marrit oot o' doors, unner 
 God's blue sky ! That is maist like hame to us, an' 
 the men that we hae traveled wi' sae lang, they're 
 maist like hame-folks. They will wish us, 'Joy be 
 wi' ye! ' an' mean it true, an' that is a gude begin- 
 nin.' We'll hae it done, wi' as little fuleishness of 
 ceremony as may be, an' walk into the city, before 
 the eyes of they stranger folk as man an' wife. ? 
 That's what I telPt Marienella, an' that's the way 
 as suits us both." 
 
 I repeated Rob's words, "Out of doors, under 
 God's blue sky ! " It is nearest like home, and those 
 who have traveled with us so long are nearest like 
 home folks. And Ernst said, "To be married without 
 unnecessary formalities, to enter Santa Fe as hus- 
 band and wife!" And so it was settled then and 
 
376 PILGRIMS OF THE PLAINS 
 
 there that the two weddings should take place at 
 the same time. And Marienella will be bridesmaid 
 to me, and I will be bridesmaid to her. 
 
 Anna and Marienella and Deya are deep in the 
 discussion of "something to wear." Anna says the 
 dresses must be white. Marienella suggests, "Pink 
 is pretty." But we have finally all agreed that 
 white will be nicest for our wedding gowns. 
 
 Deacon Gentry and I have been in consultation, 
 and he is to be my envoy into Santa Fe, to buy what 
 we need from the Santa Fe shops a white dress 
 and veil, and gloves and slippers, for me, and for 
 the little girl who is to be Rob MacLeod's wife it 
 will be my wedding gift to her. 
 
 The Deacon is sure he can do the errand satis- 
 factorily. 
 
 "I remember, as if it were yesterday, the gown 
 that Susan wore the day we were married; and I 
 think I can find something near enough like to that; 
 and if I am puzzled I can go to the wife of the 
 Sefior de Velasco, and ask her to help me decide." 
 
 The Deacon is so much milder and kinder than 
 he used to be with me and with every one. I 
 have noticed it ever since Anna's baby came to live 
 with us. 
 
 The Indian women of the North have a pretty 
 
BLESSING OF THE CARAVAN 377 
 
 custom, Ernst tells me, of walking around their 
 cornfields in the dark of the moon. They call it, 
 "The blessing of the cornfields." And with us it 
 is as if Anna had taken her baby and made the 
 triple-circle of the camp to invoke a blessing on the 
 caravan, for everything has prospered with us since 
 little Louis came. 
 
CHAPTER XXXIX 
 LIKE A RIPE PLUM 
 
 WE have been told that we will not reach 
 Santa Fe till Monday. The Sabbath 
 will be spent on the hills outside of the 
 city, and it is there that we will be married, Ernst 
 and I, and Marienella and Rob. It is beautiful 
 that it happens just so. It is all just as we would 
 wish it to be. 
 
 The caravan is camped for the night here near 
 the ancient village of Pecos close under the eastern 
 tower of the ruined old temple. The Captain's two 
 wagons were placed against the wall, with a double 
 row of the Deacon's wagons outside to hide them 
 from the view of the men of the camp. Secretly, 
 working like moles in the dark, Auguste and Franchy 
 and big Rob are now working, transferring guns and 
 pistols and powder and ball to a vault or cistern 
 that lies beneath the fallen stones of the tower. 
 
 The Spanish Lieutenant, with whom Senor de 
 Velasco and Captain Harrod and Ernst were in 
 conference at San Miguel, is superintending this 
 
LIKE A RIPE PLUM 379 
 
 work. When Manuel Olivarez last year wrote to 
 Mr. Harrod, asking him to assume the guardianship 
 of Inez, he told him to bring to New Mexico ammuni- 
 tion and weapons for the arming of the American 
 residents of Santa Fe. Olivarez felt that their lives 
 were not safe from week to week, or from day to 
 day. Since Olivarez's death, since Santa Anna has 
 become President of the Republic, conditions have 
 materially improved; yet de Velasco suggested 
 that the weapons might not come amiss some day. 
 
 "Surely it will be well that they be where they will 
 be easily obtainable. If they are hidden in this 
 vault that I know of at old Pecos, they can be taken 
 from there, a few at a time, and distributed among 
 the law-abiding citizens, for the protection of them- 
 selves and then- property, if the day should come 
 when they might need protection!" he said. 
 
 This Lieutenant, whom Velasco engaged to ac- 
 company the caravan into Santa Fe, says it is whis- 
 pered here and there, and among those who have 
 reason to know of what they are speaking, that if 
 the United States and Mexico declare war upon 
 each other, New Mexico will be apt to ask to be 
 taken into the sisterhood of the States, even as 
 Texas is about to do. There are many American 
 residents in New Mexico, and especially in Santa 
 Fe. American sentiment is strong. The property 
 
380 PILGRIMS OF THE PLAINS 
 
 interests of the better class of the Mexicans are so 
 bound up with those of the Americans that they will 
 desire a closer union of the two peoples. And the 
 citizens have been so shamefully tricked and be- 
 trayed by their Presidents, they have been so 
 pillaged and plundered by the Gobernadores who 
 have been set over them, that they would be glad 
 of any change. They have confidence in the people 
 of the States, and would rejoice openly to see the 
 American flag floating above their Gobernadores 
 Palacio. 
 
 "At the first shock of conflict, you may believe 
 me, New Mexico will fall, like a ripe plum, into the 
 lap of the United States! The tree will need no 
 rude shaking of itself the plum will fall! Some 
 few of us within the inner circle, the circle where 
 Velasco is leader, know these things are true, as I 
 say! Armijo and his hirelings know nothing of this, 
 they would tell you different, yet this is the very 
 truth!" 
 
 These political matters are of vital interest to 
 Ernst and to all those who are to make the journey 
 into this country of Mexico. 
 
 A certain line of work was laid out for Ernst by 
 the Baron von Munsterberg, and he will faithfully 
 carry out the undertaking as it was planned! His 
 instructions were to secure information in regard to 
 
LIKE A RIPE PLUM 381 
 
 the treasures of ancient Mexico to ascertain all 
 that is known about the art and literature, and the 
 habits and customs, of the early Spanish conquerors 
 and of the Aztecs whom they conquered. But now, 
 in addition to this, the avowed purpose of the expe- 
 dition, something else is to be attempted. Maps 
 are to be made of the country through which we are 
 to travel, and as far as it may be possible, the minds 
 and temper of both the leaders and the common 
 people are to be studied: all of which will be em- 
 bodied in a report for the use of the Government 
 at Washington. This is as yet a time of peace, 
 and it may now be safely done. Captain Harrod 
 thinks that this secondary purpose may be the most 
 valuable part of the work of the expedition, and to 
 this end he is ready to devote all his private 
 fortune. 
 
 The signal, "Lights out!" will sound in just a 
 minute, and I fear I will not have time to write 
 down what I have learned about this old ruin. I 
 have heard many legends regarding it. 
 
 The Mexicans who live along the Pecos valley 
 believe that there are seven of the ancient tribe of 
 Pecos Indians living here in the Temple, hidden in 
 the subterranean labyrinth of vaults and caverns; 
 and that they still keep alive the sacred fire on the 
 
382 PILGRIMS OF THE PLAINS 
 
 altar in the innermost sanctuary, that they are still 
 waiting for the coming of their king, Montezuma; 
 that they still offer living human victims on that 
 altar! They declare that they sometimes see, 
 against the clear sky, the smoke of the sacrifice 
 ascending, from some unlocated opening in the 
 temple walls. 
 
 "No," they say, "we not go near that abhorred 
 place ! It is haunted by ghosts, those seven, the 
 last of their tribe. Like specters are they, worse 
 than the ghosts of those who are altogether dead!" 
 
 Every one avoids the place. Even our teamsters, 
 those who know the country, would have liked to 
 make objection to camping so near the walls. 
 
 Taps! Lights out! 
 
CHAPTER XL 
 THE SECOND-SIGHT 
 
 ROB and Ernst and Deacon Gentry left the 
 caravan at four o'clock this morning. 
 They expect to spend the day in Santa 
 Fe, and will meet us in camp this evening the 
 camp at "Rock Corral," eight miles out from the 
 city. 
 
 After breakfast Marienella went over to the big 
 wagon, Hiram's wagon, for her usual morning romp 
 with baby Louis; and John and I followed. We 
 were a very quiet little party. Anna was counting 
 stitches in a fancy sock she was knitting for the 
 baby. He was cuddled up like a little dormouse, 
 in Marienella's arms, pretending to be asleep, and 
 she did not dare to stir. I do not remember that 
 any one said anything, except as John and I talked 
 in lowered tones, in broken phrases, with long 
 pauses in between, of the time when we were little 
 tads back in York-State, and of the way we used 
 to play. We used to have such good times to- 
 gether, and now those happy, careless days are 
 
384 PILGRIMS OF THE PLAINS 
 
 past. We like to see the shadow of them in mem- 
 ory's mirror, but we would not like to really live 
 them again. The present has sweeter joys, the 
 future holds for us richer promises. 
 
 While we talked we saw two horsemen coming 
 from the northwest, and it proved to be Danny and 
 Stoneman, returning to us from Santa Fe. 
 
 Good-natured Danny did not seem good-natured 
 at all! He came and helped me down from the 
 wagon as soon as the caravan stopped, and he 
 was cross! He snappily told the boys that they 
 needn't try to tell him anything he already "knew 
 a-plenty!" 
 
 "I met Ernst Breunner and the Deacon, down in 
 the city, and they told me everything all about 
 this impromptu wedding, and all!" 
 
 He turned to me, and tried to make me believe 
 that the black frown on his brow was real. I knew 
 it was put on, and that he was smiling inwardly to 
 himself all the time. 
 
 "You might have told me that you and Breunner 
 were engaged, that's what you might! Of course 
 it isn't any great surprise. I knew how 'twas going 
 to turn out; 'twas plain enough. There's one 
 thing, however, I wouldn't have guessed in a thou- 
 sand years, and that is that you'd go and have a 
 gipsy-wedding like this. It's absurd!" 
 
THE SECOND-SIGHT 385 
 
 I just told the young man that, on the contrary, 
 it was the very nicest kind of a wedding. 
 
 "Ernst and I have only known each other as 
 nomads and gipsies; why shouldn't we have a 
 gispy wedding if it suits us?" 
 
 All he could say in reply was that our foolish 
 romantic notions were making a lot of trouble "for 
 a lot of people." 
 
 "And it's a disappointment to the Velascos. 
 Yes, they're taking as much interest in the affair 
 as if you belonged to them. They were going to 
 make it a matter of state, and all the relatives from 
 miles down the road have been summoned as wit- 
 nesses of the ceremony! Of course they will be 
 too late for the wedding, but there will be 
 the 'infair' afterwards, and all the post-nuptial 
 festivities. 
 
 "Ernst and the Deacon said the wedding would 
 be 'a simple ceremony.' You'll find out how 
 * simple' it's likely to be! When you are in Santa 
 Fe, you must do as the Santa Feyans do. You'll 
 have to have the services of a dozen dignitaries 
 the Padre, the Cure, the Alcalde, the notary and his 
 clerk, the consul and his secretary, and goodness 
 knows how many others! And all of these '11 have 
 to be received in style, and suitably entertained! 
 And that's not all! The Sefior and Senora de 
 
PILGRIMS OF THE PLAINS 
 
 Velasco are coming, too, as guests, and the Senora 
 intends to bring with her four of the prettiest 
 sefioritas in Santa Fe to act as bridesmaids. How's 
 that for a 'simple' wedding? The Seiior and Senora 
 Velasco themselves explained all these details to 
 me, and I assured them Miss Deya would be 
 delighted with all that had been planned for her!" 
 
 Danny had been out to call upon the Velascos. It 
 would have been a gross breach of etiquette if he 
 had not done so, friendly as they have shown them- 
 selves to be. There is an old duenna in the family, 
 a humble relative, who is more concerned for the 
 honor of the Velascos than the Senor or Senora 
 themselves. 
 
 "The old woman went with me down to the 
 gate," Danny said, "and she talked continuously." 
 "Si, si, Senor! There will be great doings here, 
 when the little Senorita comes fetes, and festal 
 days and nights! But, alas! this place, it is not 
 fit to receive guests so distinguished! Not as it 
 was in the old days, that was long ago, but 
 one can yet see what it must have been. Look you! 
 the marble pavement, the benches, the fountain, 
 all of them brought from old Spain! And here the 
 walls of the old house a palacio ! yes, burned 
 and in ruins these hundreds of years, since the 
 family fled to Spain in the time of the great revolu- 
 
THE SECOND-SIGHT 387 
 
 tion. Yet are the ruins beautiful see ! with 
 the rose-vines climbing everywhere! Saw you ever 
 such roses? And white roses! We did not know 
 there were white roses growing here never did 
 they blossom, till this year! This year, of all the 
 years! White roses for the bride who is coming to 
 us! Surely! 
 
 "'The pretty Senorita, with the big grey eyes, the 
 long black lashes, and the dusky hair I do not 
 need to ask you of her. Oh, yes, the Capitan Paost 
 de Brys, he tell us of her. But it is not that ! I have 
 the vision of her yes, in the night, last night 
 but I was not asleep ! It is the second-sight. 
 Si, si, I have the power! Plain as I see you here 
 before me, so last night I saw her! I saw the big 
 moon hanging like St. Christopher's lantern in the 
 sky, the torches flaring on the walls, the pavement 
 here shining smooth as glass, and her pretty feet 
 in red slippers twinkling over it in the dance, and 
 the music such as to make even my old bones to 
 shiver with the sweet desires of youth! And the 
 little Senorita smiled upon me as she danced, with 
 her lover-husband's arm about her, his eyes looking 
 down upon her, oh, she was happy, I promise 
 you! It was a dress of red that she wore, and a red 
 rose in her hair, like a true Spanish maiden. And 
 they danced the stars out and the daylight in, 
 
PILGRIMS OF THE PLAINS 
 
 and the guests drank to the health of the bride 
 and bridegroom, and to the honor and glory of the 
 house of Velasco!' 
 
 "And I tell you, Deya," Danny said, "there was 
 bewitchment on the tongue of that old woman! 
 As sure as you were born, I saw what she described! 
 Just as she spoke it, so I saw it, and just as she saw 
 it, so I am sure it will really be. If she has not the 
 'second-sight/ how did she know about those red 
 slippers and all that, that you have in that chest 
 of yours?" 
 
CHAPTER XLI 
 A CHAPEL AMONG THE ASPENS 
 
 FOM the hill above the camp, we can see the 
 city lying, roseate, resplendent, in the warm 
 rays of the late afternoon sun. Santa Fe! 
 City of Romance, where Spanish Grandees held 
 their semi-royal court centuries ago. Santa Fe! 
 City of the Holy Faith, enshrined in the heart of 
 the great Rockies, where bells were rung, and masses 
 sung, while the eastern coast of the continent was 
 as yet a wilderness, untrodden by the white man's 
 foot. 
 
 With the glass I looked across to the north, fol- 
 lowing the course of the trail, out from camp, down 
 the long barren slope to the bridge that spans the 
 Santa Fe river, and from there up through the city 
 to the Fonda. Uncle Pliny showed me where to 
 look for the Chapels, the market-places, the Palacio, 
 and, out under the bare and rugged foot-hills, the 
 villa of the Velascos. 
 
 Uncle Pliny has no great admiration for this 
 ancient city. He says the Palacio is altogether 
 shabby, the Government buildings no better than 
 
390 PILGRIMS OF THE PLAINS 
 
 tumble-down soldier-barracks, and that even the 
 churches are more than half in ruins. 
 
 But at this distance it is even as Oriental-looking 
 and picturesque as I had hoped and expected to 
 find it, the red-tiled Spanish roofs, the gayly- 
 painted walls, purple and pink and yellow, the tall 
 spires of the poplar-trees, the heavily foliaged 
 orchards and green corn-fields that crowd in close 
 around the city, and in the far distance, the lofty 
 snow- veined mountain peaks. 
 
 Truly it looks like one of Irving's magical towns on 
 the banks of the Guadalquivir, a city of romance, 
 indeed! But just now it is not romance that 
 occupies the thoughts of its citizens, but business! 
 The market-place and all the streets are dark with 
 swarming crowds of men, and the road between 
 us and the city is sprinkled with groups of pilgrims, 
 coming out to talk trade with our merchants. 
 
 The prices they are offering are preposterously 
 high. Inwardly our men are jubilant, outwardly 
 they are cool and non-committal. 
 
 "We make no bargains," they say, "till we see 
 how prices are. There's no hurry. Our goods 
 have kept for two months in the wagons, they'll 
 not spoil on our hands if we keep them a few days 
 longer! Monday's time enough to talk of sales, 
 and the prices are not likely to be lower!" 
 
CHAPEL AMONG ASPENS 391 
 
 Thus they kept up their show of indifference, 
 going on about their work, as if the camp were not 
 running over with strangers anxious to bargain with 
 them. 
 
 When Ernst and Rob and the Deacon at last 
 came in from Santa Fe, Marienella and I had hardly 
 a word for them. Vain and frivolous creatures 
 that we were, all our thoughts were of the wedding 
 finery that the Deacon had been commissioned to 
 purchase for us. 
 
 First of all we saw Rob, with a quaint little brass- 
 bound trunk on his shoulder, and he was carrying 
 a half-dozen bulging paper parcels under his arms. 
 Marienella gasped. 
 
 "Oh! he will surely crush all our pretty things, 
 flat as the tortilla my mother bakes!" 
 
 She ran and took them from him, and hurried 
 before him to the carriage. The Deacon detained 
 me, to put in my hand a key an ancient silver 
 key. 
 
 "It is for the little trunk, which the Senora is 
 sending to you. You see I had to go to her after 
 all to ask what would be suitable for your wedding- 
 gown. I could not choose! And she would not 
 permit it that you should wear, for a wedding-dress, 
 anything that could be purchased in the shops of 
 
392 PILGRIMS OF THE PLAINS 
 
 Santa Fe. Naught would do but that you must 
 wear even the same gown that had been hers when 
 she was a bride and her mother wore it also, I 
 think she said. Well, you will find it all in the 
 letter, in the trunk. Yes, it is right for you to 
 accept the gift; she was so happy in bestowing it 
 upon you!" 
 
 I hardly waited for the dear Deacon to tell me 
 this much, and I forgot to thank him for the kindness 
 he had shown, and for the trouble he had taken for 
 me. I ran to the carriage, and tried to fit the key 
 in the lock; it would not turn for me, but when 
 Anna touched it, the hasp flew open at once. 
 
 When the lid of the trunk was raised, all we saw 
 was a roll of old blue linen, with a note pinned 
 to it, a note addressed to me. I read it while 
 Anna was untying the strings of the neat little 
 bundle. 
 
 In flowery Spanish phrases, overfull of compli- 
 ment, the Senora begged me to accept the gift 
 which "the Senor Gentry" was to bring. 
 
 "This was my wedding gown, and my mother's 
 also. When my mother wore it, it was in the Royal 
 Chapel at Madrid that she was married, the 
 young Prince Ferdinand complimented her on the 
 beauty of her attire ! And afterward, in the evening, 
 he danced with her, and it was this gown that she 
 
CHAPEL AMONG ASPENS 393 
 
 wore! So it has been kept as a treasure most 
 precious. I have sons, but no daughter, except as 
 I have taken thee to my heart. And thou wilt wear 
 the dress, to give me pleasure, and keep it, that 
 thy daughter may wear it after thee. The pearls, 
 also, go with the dress. May they bring thee good 
 fortune!" Jjp^TOtt i 
 
 I stood there, lost in dreaming! I was startled 
 when Anna spoke to me. I put the Senora's letter 
 inside my bodice, and knelt by Anna's side, to see 
 and touch the wonderful gown, the sweetest 
 that maiden ever wore, a plain slip of silk, and 
 an overdress of muslin and lace, but the muslin was 
 priceless stuff, sheer and delicate as gossamer, and 
 the lace of the veil and flounces was a fairy fabric, 
 such as Cinderella's godmother might have evoked 
 from nothingness by the waving of her wand! I 
 had never dreamed that there could be such airy 
 stuff woven by human hands, so rich, so exquisitely 
 fine, so altogether lovely. We touched it as if it 
 were frost-work that would melt under the warmth 
 of our fingers! 
 
 As we folded it and laid it away again in the 
 trunk, we came upon a little white velvet handker- 
 chief bag, and in this were the jewels of which the 
 Senora had spoken. There was a necklet of big 
 single pearls, and a long, slender, twisted rope of 
 
394 PILGRIMS OF THE PLAINS 
 
 seed pearls, for a girdle. They lay in my hands, 
 gleaming, glistening, like tiny globes of dawn-tinted 
 snow; and they clung caressingly to my palm, and 
 to my cheek when I laid my face against them, as 
 if they were beseeching me to wear them and 
 keep them. 
 
 Marienella's dress pleased her wonderfully. It 
 is made in the latest style eight yards around the 
 hem, and flounced to the waist, and there is a wreath 
 of pink rosebuds festooned over the "bertha," and 
 there is a veil to go with it a real Spanish lace 
 mantilla ! 
 
 Marienella, when she saw it, dropped upon the 
 floor, and laughed and cried. 
 
 "Oh, it is too beautiful! What will my mother 
 say, when she see these so beautiful clothes? But 
 the dress the veil it is not of these I think most! 
 It is of the goodness of everybody that I think 
 of you, my mistress, and of my Rob! He so splen- 
 did, so big, so strong ! Yet he is of a kindness to 
 me, such as I have never seen in any one! That 
 make me to adore him, always!" 
 
 Marienella is cuddled down beside me as I write. 
 The beads of her rosary are slipping, slowly, and 
 more slowly, through her fingers. And with each 
 bead, not one prayer, but two prayers, from two 
 happy hearts, go up to our Father in heaven. 
 
CHAPEL AMONG ASPENS 395 
 
 It was the middle of the night when Marienella 
 wakened me, and whispered, "What you think it 
 is the men are doing? Hear you not? The sound 
 of chopping up on the hill? Why they be working 
 at night? I not know why I cannot shut my eyes. 
 I thinking about the things in that little trunk, 
 I guess. Nothing happen to them no of course. 
 But, I think I like to see them if maybe I not 
 put them away neat like I should. If the Senorita 
 give me the key, I will look, and be satisfy." 
 
 I took the key from the ribbon around my neck 
 and gave it to her, and watched her, drowsily, 
 as she knelt by the trunk, and counted over all 
 the articles it contained. As she closed the lid 
 I thought she repeated a prayer but it was no 
 prayer, it was a "charm- word," "to say for the 
 good-luck." 
 
 "My grandmother, she tell that charm-word to 
 me. I not say it very much. It wear out if you 
 use it often ! Only I think this best time of all to 
 say it! Whether it be good, I know not but I say 
 'How can it do harm?' I will say my beads over 
 again two times, and that make it good!" 
 
 She told her beads over again, as she had said, 
 and in the very next moment was asleep. But I 
 lay there awake, wondering why the men should be 
 working at night. Then I heard Danny's voice, 
 
396 PILGRIMS OF THE PLAINS 
 
 calling out directions to someone. If Danny were 
 concerned in it, there was no use trying to guess 
 what was in progress. I smiled to myself and 
 next I knew, I was lost in dreaming. I thought I 
 had wandered into the garden of the Senora de 
 Velasco, and there was someone near me, playing 
 on a lute, and singing, and the song was the 
 Song of Nourmahal 
 
 "There's a bliss beyond all that the minstrel has told, 
 
 When two that are linked in one heavenly tie, 
 With heart never changing, and brow never cold, 
 
 Love on through all ills, and love on till they die! 
 One hour of a passion so sacred is worth 
 
 Whole ages of heartless and wandering bliss, 
 And oh, if there be an Elysium on earth, 
 
 It is this! It is this!" 
 
 I saw the singer and it was the young Capitan, 
 Paost de Brys! And suddenly there was a cry, 
 and the garden was crowded! Crowded with all 
 those whom I had ever known Cousin Elinor was 
 there, and Salathiel Deming, and all the Hazard 
 girls, and in and out through the crowd I was 
 hurrying fast, looking for someone, and I could 
 not think who it was I was looking for 
 
 It was morning, and Marienella was shaking me 
 gently to see if I was awake. 
 
 "I thought you like to know. The Senor Breunner 
 
CHAPEL AMONG ASPENS 397 
 
 with the Senorita's brother is again called to Santa 
 Fe, yes, right at once they go ! A man come 
 with message. In Santa Fe there are yet more 
 papers to be signed, for the Notary. Rob, he say 
 that. The Seiior de Velasco he send that word 
 for the Seiior Breunner and the Senorita's brother, 
 and they not return till time for the wedding late 
 this afternoon. And they and the guests, and the 
 Padre, they will all come together. The Senor 
 Breunner ask me if you awake: tell me not disturb 
 you, only if you not be asleep, I tell you he be 
 waiting down at turn of the road." 
 
 She was helping me on with my slippers and my 
 fresh morning gown. I tied the ribbons as I jumped 
 down from the carriage, and never waited for my 
 hat! My feet were shod with wings! I did not go 
 around by the road. I took the shortest way, down 
 over the rocks, almost straight from the skies 
 right into Ernst's arms! 
 
 We stood there at the edge of the high cliff, high 
 above the valley. The sky was dappled over with 
 flecks of cloud, gray and mauve and violet and rosy 
 pink. There was no sun, as yet. Near at hand, 
 between us and the east, towered two great hills, 
 clothed thick with verdure. The cleft between 
 them was a-dazzle with a glittering, golden veil of 
 thin mist and then the veil was swept aside to 
 
398 PILGRIMS OF THE PLAINS 
 
 let the red sun, in his splendor, through! The 
 twitter of innumerable sleepy bird-voices changed 
 in that instant to a rapturous burst of melody; 
 linnet and thrush and lark poured out their hearts 
 in praises to the morn, as if they had never before 
 beheld the miracle of dawn and sunrise! 
 
 John was calling us. He would only stand, and 
 beckon us to come where he was, and when we had 
 obeyed his summons, he showed us, around at the 
 west side of the camp, a smooth grassy spot set 
 about with a little grove of the quivering aspen. 
 And here we saw what Danny and his friends had 
 been working at, through the night. They had 
 built a little woodland chapel of leafy pines, and 
 there was a white-draped altar, banked with the 
 tall spikes of the snowy Yucca-bells. There was 
 incense in the air, the spicy breath of pine and cedar; 
 the soft sighing of the quivering aspens was like a 
 whispered prayer; and above and beyond, reaching 
 high up into the heavens, were the everlasting hills 
 of God. It was Sunday morning, the morning 
 of our wedding-day. 
 
 There were no words that we could say, no words 
 that we needed to say. Ernst drew me to him, and 
 in his eyes, his clear blue eyes, I read the vow 
 whereby he gave his heart, his soul, into my keeping, 
 forever, and forever! And in my heart I asked my 
 
CHAPEL AMONG ASPENS 
 
 399 
 
 Father that he would make me worthy, that He 
 would bless and keep us both. 
 
 Anna and I have spent most of the day out on 
 the hills. I have my book, but it is not my Journal 
 that I am thinking of. There is a song in my heart, 
 and on my lips, a song that seems to belong alto- 
 gether to Ernst "Du, du, liegst mir im Hertzen!" 
 
 m 
 
 
 "Thou, thou, reign'st in this bosom. 
 There, there, hast thou thy throne. 
 Thou, thou, know'st that I love thee. 
 Am I not fondly thine own? 
 Yes, yes, yes, yes! 
 Am I not fondly thine own? 
 
 Then, then, e'en as I love thee, 
 
 Say, say, wilt thou love me? 
 
 Thoughts, thoughts, tender and true, love, 
 
 Say wilt thou cherish for me? 
 
 Yes, yes, yes, yes, 
 
 Say wilt thou cherish for me?'* 
 
 My head was against Anna's knee, when she 
 sprang to her feet, and drew me up beside her. 
 She pointed down the long slope to the road that 
 
400 PILGRIMS OF THE PLAINS 
 
 leads out from the city. A cloud of white dust! 
 A gay cavalcade in the midst of it ! A dozen coaches 
 the foremost one like a royal equipage, all scarlet 
 and gold, blazing bright in the sun's rays. They 
 drew out to one side to let two eager horsemen by. 
 We did not need to try to guess who those riders 
 were, we knew! Their eyes caught the flutter 
 of Anna's blue veil against the dark background of 
 the cliff. They tossed their caps in joyous saluta- 
 tion, and put their horses to the utmost speed. It 
 was my brother, and Ernst my Ernst. 
 
STORIES OF RARE CHARM BY 
 
 GENE STRATTQN-PORTER 
 
 May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grossat and Dunlap's list. 
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 Illustrated by W. L. Jacobs 
 
 "The Harvester," David Langston, is 
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 THE TRAIL OF THE LONESOME PINE. 
 Illustrated by F. C. Yohn. 
 
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