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 )
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"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-
a t* r i A
^ p r ii*
1* r 1* o J
IO\ ~ 'J
i i r 1 1 r
r
*
v4/ * *
r r
I^J ' tn
! 1 , 1^1 1
MM
i r_
1 ^
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I \(\\ " ' ^^ &
8*.
i J * ^
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J 9 *
. J 9
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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
^ 1 1
-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
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THE HARVESTER
Illustrated by W. L. Jacobs
"The Harvester," David Langston, is
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AT THE FOOT OF THE RAINBOW.
Illustrations in colors by Oliver Kemp. Design and decorations by
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The scene of this charming, idyllic love story is laid in Central
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STORIES OF THE KENTUCKY MOUNTAINS
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THE TRAIL OF THE LONESOME PINE.
Illustrated by F. C. Yohn.
The "lonesome pine" from which the
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trail, and when he finally climbed to its
shelter he found not only the pine but the
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THE
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LITTLE SHEPHERD OF KINGDOM
COME
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This is a story of Kentucky, in a settlement known as "King-
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" Chad." the "little shepherd" did not know who he was nor
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A KNIGHT OF THE CUMBERLAND.
Illustrated by F. C. Yohn.
The scenes are laid along the waters of the Cumberland*
the lair of moonshiner and feudsman. The knight is a moon-
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Included in this volume is " Hell f er-Sartain" and othei
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LAVENDER AND OLD LACE.
A charming story of a quaint corner of
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modern parallel. The story centers round
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the staff of a newspaper and it is one of the
prettiest, sweetest and quaintest of old fash-
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A SPINNER IN THE SUN.
Miss Myrtle Reed may always be depended upon to write a story
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THE MASTER'S VIOLIN,
A love story in a musical atmosphere. A picturesque, old Ger-
man virtuoso is the reverent possessor of a genuine "Cremona." He
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an aptitude for technique, but not the soul of an artist. The youth
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and the tragedies of life and all its happy phases as can the master
who has lived life in all its fulness. But a girl comes into his life a
beautiful bit of human driftwood that his aunt had taken into her
heart and home, and through his passionate love for her, he learns
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Founded on a fact that all artists realize.
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WITHIN THE LAW. By Bayard Veiller & Marvin Dana.
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The plot of this powerful novel is of a young woman's revenge
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BOUGHT AfrD PAID FOR. By George Broadharst and Arthtu
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