"There came a child to my side one day,And lightly she said with a laugh of mirth,'Tell me of all things, now I pray,Which is the fairest to you upon earth?"'Is it the rose, with its breath of balm?Is it the gem of the diamond mine?Is it the shell, with its sea-song calm?Or the pearl, that low in the deep doth shine?'"I answered her, 'Though the rose is fair,Though the diamond gleams like a lesser sun;Oh, ne'er canthey, e'en in thought compare,With my chosen beauty, my purest one."'For mine, far sweeter than rose doth bloom,In our world of sorrow, of woe, and care;E'en light of the diamond seemeth gloom,To that halo divine that shineth where;"'My fairest thing upon all the earth,A little childkneeleth down to pray,And sweeter than sound of ocean's mirthAre the heav'nly words, she doth meekly say."'Yes, as I look on a kneeling child,Of those I think, whom our Saviour blest,And I know of all things fair and mild,The pure, young heart of a child is best.'"
"There came a child to my side one day,And lightly she said with a laugh of mirth,'Tell me of all things, now I pray,Which is the fairest to you upon earth?"'Is it the rose, with its breath of balm?Is it the gem of the diamond mine?Is it the shell, with its sea-song calm?Or the pearl, that low in the deep doth shine?'"I answered her, 'Though the rose is fair,Though the diamond gleams like a lesser sun;Oh, ne'er canthey, e'en in thought compare,With my chosen beauty, my purest one."'For mine, far sweeter than rose doth bloom,In our world of sorrow, of woe, and care;E'en light of the diamond seemeth gloom,To that halo divine that shineth where;"'My fairest thing upon all the earth,A little childkneeleth down to pray,And sweeter than sound of ocean's mirthAre the heav'nly words, she doth meekly say."'Yes, as I look on a kneeling child,Of those I think, whom our Saviour blest,And I know of all things fair and mild,The pure, young heart of a child is best.'"
"There came a child to my side one day,And lightly she said with a laugh of mirth,'Tell me of all things, now I pray,Which is the fairest to you upon earth?
"There came a child to my side one day,
And lightly she said with a laugh of mirth,
'Tell me of all things, now I pray,
Which is the fairest to you upon earth?
"'Is it the rose, with its breath of balm?Is it the gem of the diamond mine?Is it the shell, with its sea-song calm?Or the pearl, that low in the deep doth shine?'
"'Is it the rose, with its breath of balm?
Is it the gem of the diamond mine?
Is it the shell, with its sea-song calm?
Or the pearl, that low in the deep doth shine?'
"I answered her, 'Though the rose is fair,Though the diamond gleams like a lesser sun;Oh, ne'er canthey, e'en in thought compare,With my chosen beauty, my purest one.
"I answered her, 'Though the rose is fair,
Though the diamond gleams like a lesser sun;
Oh, ne'er canthey, e'en in thought compare,
With my chosen beauty, my purest one.
"'For mine, far sweeter than rose doth bloom,In our world of sorrow, of woe, and care;E'en light of the diamond seemeth gloom,To that halo divine that shineth where;
"'For mine, far sweeter than rose doth bloom,
In our world of sorrow, of woe, and care;
E'en light of the diamond seemeth gloom,
To that halo divine that shineth where;
"'My fairest thing upon all the earth,A little childkneeleth down to pray,And sweeter than sound of ocean's mirthAre the heav'nly words, she doth meekly say.
"'My fairest thing upon all the earth,
A little childkneeleth down to pray,
And sweeter than sound of ocean's mirth
Are the heav'nly words, she doth meekly say.
"'Yes, as I look on a kneeling child,Of those I think, whom our Saviour blest,And I know of all things fair and mild,The pure, young heart of a child is best.'"
"'Yes, as I look on a kneeling child,
Of those I think, whom our Saviour blest,
And I know of all things fair and mild,
The pure, young heart of a child is best.'"
Little Aggie remained perfectly still for some moments after Miss Amy had finished. At last she lifted up her face, and kissed the young lady sweetly, and whispered, "Dear Miss Amy I will try to remember that. I am sure Mamma thinksthe same as you do. Thank you for telling me. Good-night my dear Miss Amy. Good-night Miss Carrie, and Mr. Graham. We have had such a nice time haven't we Guy. Now we will go home."
"Good-night, and good-night Mr. Graham, and Miss Carrie. Come, Guy, let us go home."
So Guy arose and led the little girl toward the wagon she called "home," for to her little affectionate heart any where was home where her parents stayed. They were walking slowly past the baggage wagons when to his surprise, and affright Guy saw a puff of smoke, issue from the back part of the one in which he usually slept. He instantly remembered the powder, and with a cry dashed toward it, bidding Aggie run as far as possible from the danger. There was no water near, but he caught up a bag of flour, spranginto the wagon and dashed it upon the flames, then another, and another. Meanwhile his cries had brought every one to the spot, James Graham brought a pail of water and threw upon the already smothered flames, and immediately a great sputtering, and kicking was heard, and George Harwood sat up sleepily and demanded what they were pitching into him for.
"Get up," said his father who was looking very pale and agitated, "Get up and thank this brave boy for having saved your life. If it had not been for him this powder would have exploded, and launched you, and we know not how many others into Eternity."
George saw how great his danger had been, and with shame owned that he had brought it upon himself, by dropping fire from a pipe which he was endeavoringto learn to smoke, in express disobedience of his father's commands.
He turned around to thank Guy for having risked his own life to save his, for that he had undoubtedly done by springing into the burning wagon, but found that like a true hero, he had gone to perform another duty, waiting neither for thanks or praises. But he got both, for as he lifted little Aggie into her mother's wagon, she kissed him and whispered "You good, brave boy, I am going to ask God to bless you all your life."
"Well now, George," said Aggie the next morning, as they stood near the partially burned wagon and watched Mr. Harwood and his young men, as they hastily endeavored to repair the damage that had been done, "I should think you never would smoke again in your life."
"I didn't smoke last night," retorted George, "I only tried to, and to try to smoke and to do it are two very different things, I can tell you," and George grimaced most comically at the remembrance of some very extraordinary sensations he had experienced, both before and after the fire.
"If you don't believe me you can try it," he added, as Aggie looked at him thoughtfully.
"I wasn't thinking of what you were saying," she replied, "but of what a horrible death Guy saved you from."
"That's a fact," returned George, with much seriousness. "Guy ain't a bad sort after all!"
"Not a bit of a Guy Fawkes about him," commented Gus. "He don't believe in blowing up folks with gunpowder."
"Nor with words either," interrupted Aggie, "but who was Guy Fawkes, Gus?"
"Oh, a man put a lot of gunpowder in the cellar of the English House of Congress."
"Of Parliament," corrected George.
"Of Parliament, then, it means all the same thing, and he intended when theKing and all the members of Parliament were in the house to set fire to the powder and blow them all up. But they found out the plot just in time, and Guy was hung up; or had his head chopped of, I forget which."
"Good for him" said George. "Hullo, here comes Guy, looking really frightened for once in his life! What is the matter, Guy?"
But Guy made him no answer, but hurried on to Mr. Harwood and whispered a few words in his ear.
"You don't say so!" he ejaculated with a startled look. "Whereabouts are they?"
"Back of the camp, sir. Mr. Graham says he thinks they are after the cattle and horses. But they are to far off for us to see them plainly, and it was some time before I could make Mr. Graham believe they were Indians at all."
"Indians!" exclaimed George and Gus, turning pale, and with out more ado, rushing from the spot, not only as they said "to tell mother," but to gain a place of safety.
"Take Aggie to the wagon," said Mr. Harwood hastily, though he could not help smiling at the precipitate flight of his boys. "Be as quick as you can, and bring me my telescope."
Guy did as he was bidden, but although so quickly that he did not even take time to say a few words of encouragement to Aggie. He found the telescope was little needed when he gave it into Mr. Harwood's hands. The Indians had drawn so close that their movements could be perfectly seen.
"At least thirty young braves!" said Mr. Harwood anxiously. "A party of horse thieves no doubt! We shall have trouble!"
"And all on account of this unfortunate delay!" exclaimed Mr. Graham. "We should have been on our way three hours ago, but for your son's carelessness."
"That is very true. Yet we should scarcely have escaped the quick eyes of these wild savages."
"We will try to save the oxen and horses from their hands at least!" cried a young man, turning to a group who had hastily armed themselves.
In an incredible short space of time they had made a circle of the wagons, and within this barricade they placed the cattle, and stationed themselves at regular distances without the wagons. Mr. Harwood and Mr. Graham stood beside the wagon in which all the ladies had congregated, and with quiet, though great anxiety, waited for the attack to be commenced. They had no idea that it could be avoidedfor all Mr. Harwood's signals, during the formation of the barricade had been totally disregarded, and the savages in all the hideousness of paint and warlike decorations were riding rapidly around the camp in a gradually decreasing circle.
"Guy, my boy, you had better go into our wagon," said Mr. Harwood, as Guy, with a favorite dog at his side, drew near to him. Guy looked him doubtfully a moment, and with visible reluctance proceeded to obey the direction which had been given him. Suddenly, however, he turned back and with an appealing look at Mr. Harwood said:
"I wish you would give me a gun, sir, and let me stay here."
"Do as you please," cried Mr. Harwood hastily, and Guy rushed to a wagon for the desired weapon, and back again to his place.
Just then the Indians made a feint of going away. They retired slowly a little way, then suddenly wheeled, and galloped back towards the camp, discharging a volley of arrows as they came.
Fortunately they injured no one, but the second fire was not so harmless, and was returned steadily by Mr. Harwood and his men from their rifles. But the Indians were too far off, and changed their positions too often to be affected by it.
The firing continued in this manner for fifteen minutes or more. Two of Mr. Harwood's men were seriously wounded, and obliged to retire to the wagons, and the others were eagerly speaking of dividing into two parties, one of which was to remain to guard the camp, while the other sallied out to drive off the Indians. It seemed a mad undertaking, as Mr. Harwood said, to divide so small a force, andthey were spared the necessity of doing so by the savages themselves, who enraged at the death of one of their number, and confident of success, rode boldly up to the very sides of the wagons, and with showers of arrows, and brandishing their war-clubs, uttering at the same time the most dreadful yells, endeavored to overcome the white men and gain possession of the animals, that snorting and plunging with terror at the unusual rounds of shouting and firing were striving vainly to break their bounds. Terrible was the struggle that ensued. For a few minutes the shrieks of the women and children, the shouts of the white men, the yells of the Indians, the reports of fire-arms, and the indescribable noises made by the frightened animals filled the air.
Guy was almost stunned with the noise and bewildered by the confusion thatprevailed. He never thought of firing his gun, and had no idea which party had the advantage, he, in fact, felt perfectly overwhelmed, not with fear, but horror, and quite regardless of his danger, remained an inactive spectator of the scene, until he beheld Mr. Harwood struggling violently with an Indian who had thrown himself from his horse in the excitement of the fight.
Mr. Harwood was himself a muscular man, and the struggle between the two was terrible to witness. For a minute neither seemed to have the advantage, then the strong Indian got his arm across Mr. Harwood's breast and held him back, he raised his right hand in which glittered a long knife already stained with blood. Some unusual sound for a moment attracted the savage's attention, he glanced around. Guy seized the opportunity, raised his gun and fired.
He was not knocked over by the shock, but the Indian was. Down he went, and Mr. Harwood with him, but only to remain there a moment. He sprang up and echoed the shout of triumph which was heard from the other side of the camp.
The fight was ended; the Indians defeated, away they sped with lightning speed, bearing their wounded, among which was Mr. Harwood's special adversary, with them, and leaving their dead upon the ground.
Of these there were two. But little notice was taken of them at first, for the members of the train were too busy attending to the wounded, and examining their own hurts, to think of Indians, unless it was to look occasionally to satisfy themselves that they were really gone, and that there was no farther trouble to be apprehended from them.
"I wonder who it was that knocked that great fellow over that was holding me down," said Mr. Harwood, after he had embraced his family, and assured them that he was very little hurt. "I wish I knew who it was, I have somebody to thank for saving my life."
"Here is the fellow!" cried Gus, catching Guy as he was about to jump from the wagon. "He has got one of your guns, too, and it was only a little while ago you told him not to touch them."
"Guy!" exclaimed Mr. Harwood, "can it be possible that you fired that well-directed shot?"
"I couldn't help it, sir, the ball seemed to know just where to go, and the gun to shoot of itself," returned Guy, with a slight laugh—a vain attempt to hide his emotion.
Mr. Harwood made no effort to concealhis, and catching him in his arms embraced him warmly, as he exclaimed: "My dear boy, have I then my own life to thank you for, as well as that of my son? How shall I be able to repay you?"
"Don't say any more," entreated Guy, who was being nearly suffocated by his mother, Mr. Harwood and the children, who were pulling him hither and thither to their heart's content.
"Why didn't you shoot his head right off?" ask George, when the commotion had slightly subsided. "I would if I had had a gun, and been in your place."
"But you weren't at all likely to be in his place or any other where arrows were flying," interrupted Gus, with a laugh, which quickly subsided into a smothered titter as George looked at him, with the remark: "You had better mind your bones."
"I intend to," said Gus, coolly, "but you needn't glare at me so. You're not a Gorgon, I guess, and can't turn me into stone by a look."
"I am very glad Guy didn't knock the Indian's head right off," interposed Aggie, anxious to prevent a quarrel between the two boys.
"Aren't you glad of it, Guy, you wouldn't have liked to have killed him dead, would you?"
"Oh no!" returned Guy, laughing. "It answered my purpose just to kill him a little. Indeed," he added, turning pale at the thought, "I hope the poor man will not die."
"Don't trouble yourself about that," said Mr. Harwood, taking in his hand the gun which Guy had still retained, but then offered him, "you nobly did your duty, my boy, and though we will hope that theman will recover, we will not worry, because we cannot learn whether he does or not."
"I say, the men are harnessing the teams," exclaimed George. "Let us go and pick up some of the arrows the Indians threw around so plentifully."
"Yes," answered Guy, "and I'll bring you one, Aggie."
"Stay," said Mr. Harwood, "Here, Guy, is a more fitting weapon for you. Take this gun, and though I hope you may never again be obliged to use it against a fellow-creature, I hope your shots will always be as well directed as that of to-day."
"Whew!" ejaculated George, "don't I wish I had knocked that fellow over to-day! Guy, why don't you say thank you?"
"He's like the little boy that would not say 'thank you' for a new jack-knife,"laughed Gus, "he'd rather use the old 'un fust."
In truth, Guy was so delighted with Mr. Harwood's words, and the gift that accompanied them, that he knew not what to say. To possess a gun, had long been his highest and most secret ambition, and to have one, really his own, in his hands, seemed, as he afterwards said, "far too good to be true."
"Never mind the thanks," exclaimed Mr. Harwood, as Guy vainly tried to utter something, "we understand each other, though my debt is not paid yet. You can go now and look for arrows, if you like."
But Guy thought but little of arrows, or even of his gun, for some minutes after he left the wagon, for just then four of the mules, who had not recovered from their fright, broke away from the men who were trying to quiet them, and galloped acrossthe plains in the opposite direction to that the Indians had taken. Two young men immediately mounted the swiftest horses in the train and set off in pursuit, and a fine chase they had. Over an hour passed before they brought the refractory animals back, and an exciting time the boys had watching the race, and shouting and hurrahing when the foaming, panting creatures rushed into the camp, followed by their almost breathless pursuers.
"But this isn't finding arrows!" said Guy, at last, suddenly remembering Aggie, and the promise he had made her. And, after the train was in motion, he found two beautiful arrows, and took them to her. She accepted them with delight, telling Guy she would keep them all her life, in remembrance of that eventful day. "And so you see," she added, addressing in fancy the cross old chief that hadfrightened her so terribly, "I have got one of your Indian arrows, after all, and I'll keep it too. My good Guy has got a gun now, and that's more than you have, and he knows how to use it, that's more than you will ever do."
Two weeks after the fight with the Indians, Guy was galloping across the gently rising hills, that denoted their approach to the Rocky Mountains, in quest of game. This was the first time he had had an opportunity offered him to try his gun, as they had seen no living creature upon the desert of alkali which they had occupied more than a week in crossing, and but few among the prickly pears and sage-brush that succeeded the poisonous salts. Of the effects of the latter, each member of the party had had some experience, and all, for weeks after, complained of sore lips, chapped hands, and other pains of a like nature.
Guy was greatly troubled to find that little Aggie and his mother were the greatest sufferers. Indeed, the latter became so very ill that, for two or three days, Guy feared he should soon be motherless. Never had his heart been so heavy as during that time. It was a good thing for him that he was obliged to work additionally hard, else he might also have fallen ill from excessive grief. But, as it was, he had no time to give way to his feeling: there were his mother's duties and his own, to be performed by his hands alone; little Aggie to be amused, and his mother often to be cheered by some gay word, when he usually felt much more like uttering sad ones.
I have mentioned before that Mrs. Loring, though a very good woman, was often inclined to look on the dark side of things, and so it sometimes happened thatshe led Guy to do the same, and he certainly did so steadily enough during the days his mother lay seriously ill, while he turned to the bright side instantly when she pronounced herself better, though he did not for a moment neglect to pay her the same attention as before.
One morning, when she, for the first time, gathered strength and energy enough to sit up, Mr. Harwood entered the wagon, and laughingly told her that as she was so well, he should not let her have Guy to herself any longer, but should take him with them to hunt some deer that were feeding on the hills some distance away. Guy looked at his mother and hesitated, for though he desired, above all things, to take part in a deer hunt, he did not like to leave his sick mother, until she said: "Go, my child, you are looking pale and thin already, the excitement will do you good.It would never do for you to get sick, you know." And that was how Guy Loring happened to be galloping across the hills with Mr. Harwood and Mr. Graham, while George and Gus remained at the camp, enviously watching him. By some skillful manœuvering, they managed to approach within gun-shot of the deer, of which there were five or six, brousing quietly. Guy was very much excited, and would have fired upon them had not Mr. Harwood told him not to do so until the last.
Slowly, and with as much patience as they could command, they drew nearer and nearer the deer. Mr. Graham and Mr. Harwood raised their rifles to fire, when suddenly the whole herd of deer threw their heads in the air, looked around wildly, and bounded away with the speed of the wind.
"What in the world could have startledthem so?" exclaimed the gentlemen in surprise.
Guy looked around in perfect dismay at having lost the chance of firing at a deer, and quickly exclaimed: "Oh, how provoking, it is the cattle. They have let the cattle loose."
Mr. Graham uttered an exclamation of delight, "Was there ever such good luck before?" he cried, "Those are buffaloes! I had no idea we should find them here so early. Gallop back to the camp, Guy, and tell the Fraziers! Hurrah!"
Scarcely less excited than Mr. Graham, Guy made a wide circuit of the spot where the herd of buffaloes, from twenty to thirty in number, were feeding, and galloped to the camp, where he found five or six young men, already armed and mounted for the chase. They hastily advised Guy to remain in camp, but as he had received nodirection to do so from Mr. Harwood, he followed his inclinations, and returned with the young men to the spot where Mr. Graham and Mr. Harwood were anxiously awaiting them.
All this time the buffaloes continued to feed without taking the least notice of the hunters. These after a short consultation, began to ride gently towards them. The animals remained so quiet that Guy had an opportunity to look at them carefully. He was surprised to find that they were not as large as elephants, but on the contrary about the size of a cow, which animal they closely resembled in the shape of their bodies, and limbs; but their hair, instead of being of the same length all over their body, grew in shaggy tufts upon the back and sides, and lengthened into a sweeping mane upon the neck. This adornment took from them the peaceful expression of themajority of our domestic cattle, and gave them instead the terrible one of the untamed lion. This effect was increased by the wild glare of their eyes. Guy did not at first notice their horns, which were small, and almost imbedded in their thick, woolly hair, but it did not need a second look to assure him that they could do a great deal of harm, if once called into service. The hunters approached the buffaloes in a semi-circle, Guy occupied a place near the circle by the side of Mr. Harwood, who unwilling to disappoint him by sending him back to the camp, had permitted him to stay. The whole party got within a hundred feet of the buffaloes before they were even discovered. Then an immense fellow who seemed the leader of the herd, began to bellow, and tear up the earth with his hoofs, and in a moment, the whole herd were coursing over the prairie at apace, which Guy, when looking at their heavy bodies, had never imagined them capable of.
"After them!" shouted Mr. Graham, and instantly the hunters spurred on their horses many of which were used to the sport, and in a few minutes Guy, who was poorly mounted was left some distance in the rear, while the foremost of the horsemen were at the very heels of the flying herd. The dust of the prairie began to rise from beneath their hoofs in clouds, through which Guy could indistinctly see the buffaloes dashing forward, one turning occasionally upon some audacious man who had fired upon him, who would then wheel his horse quickly and escape from the reach of the infuriated animal, which would continue its flight or fall to the earth, with a terrible bellow.
Guy had witnessed three or four suchfalls, and in his excitement scarcely knowing what he did, went up to the foaming animal intending to put it out of its misery by a shot from his gun, when, suddenly, it rose to its feet, staggered forward, and ere Guy could wheel his frightened horse, plunged his horns into his breast, and buffalo, horse and rider rolled upon the plain together.
Then succeeded a horrible moment, in which Guy felt himself crushed by his plunging horse, and heard the cries of the men, the bellowing of the wounded buffalo, the thunderlike noise of the retreating herd, and the sharp crack of half a dozen rifles. Then he felt himself lifted from the ground by Mr. Graham and Mr. Harwood, who exclaimed that it was a miracle that he was alive, and asked him if he wasn't killed, and then shouted out for somebody to go in pursuit of the horse, which wasgalloping away in the opposite direction to the buffaloes, which were suffered to depart without any further attempt being made to slaughter them.
Guy was surprised and delighted to find that his fool-hardy escapade had brought upon him no injury except a few bruises, which, however, did not prevent him from assisting the men to take into camp the carcasses of the three buffaloes they had slain.
That proved a busy afternoon in the camp. The buffaloes were skinned, and their shaggy hides hung up in the sun to dry. Then the choicest parts of the bodies were cut up and salted, and the rest left to the hungry wolves, who are the natural enemies of the buffalo—one of which, when wounded, they will often follow, and harass to death.
And what a splendid supper of buffalo steak they had. Guy fancied he never had tasted anything so delicious, though George, in his usual contradictory mood, declared he thought beef much nicer. But as no one paid any attention to him, his opinion had not much effect, and no one enjoyed the supper the less for it.
As only a slight sketch of Guy's wonderful escape had been given by Harwood upon his return to camp, the children were anxious to hear a full account of it, and as soon as the dishes were washed, the fuel for the night brought in and Guy was at liberty to take his usual seat by the fire, they called upon him to tell them all about it. He did so in as few words as possible, for he felt as much ashamed of his discomfiture as an old hunter might have been likely to do.
Aggie looked very serious after hearingthe account of her favorite's danger. George laughed as he thought of the figure Guy must have cut when pitched from his horse over the back of the buffalo; and Gus with great earnestness asked him what he thought of at the time it all happened.
"I saw and heard too much to think of anything," replied Guy, quite unable to repress a laugh at Gus' question and eager look, "the first thing I thought of when Mr. Graham took me from the ground was to clear the sand from my nose, eyes, and mouth. If you had seen me you would have fancied I had been burrowing in the dirt for a twelve month. After that I was very thankful that I escaped so well, and on the way home I recalled to mind almost everything I had ever read about buffaloes, and among other things a mode in which the Indians hunt them, and whichis described in the adventures of Lewis and Clarke."
"Who were Lewis and Clarke?" asked Gus.
"Two men, who in the days of Washington and Jefferson, and chiefly by the aid of the latter, headed a party of men, who were the first to explore Oregon, and discover the rise of the Columbia and Missouri Rivers."
"What fun they must have had," exclaimed George, "among the Indians that had never seen a white man before."
"They were so constantly surrounded by dangers," said Guy, "that I guess they found thefunrather scarce. But they had a great many exciting adventures among the Indians, and learned many of their strange habits."
"Well, you were going to tell us abouta way they had of hunting buffaloes," interrupted Gus. "How was it?"
"Well, first they would find, either by accident or after a search, a herd of buffaloes, grazing on a plateau, perhaps three or four hundred feet above the river, for such are very often found a mile or more in length along the Columbia or Missouri Rivers, which abruptly terminate, forming a precipice so perfectly perpendicular that neither man or beast can gain a foothold on their sides.
"Toward this precipice a young warrior wrapped in a buffalo robe, and crowned with the head and horns, decoys the game, while the others chase them forward, riding their swiftest horses, bearing their best arms, and uttering their wildest shouts. The whole herd maddened by the hunters, will usually follow the decoy—their fancied leader—when suddenly he will hidebeneath some cliff, the buffaloes will rush on, seeing no danger ahead, or unable to check their headlong career, and thus very often a hundred or more will spring over the precipice, and be dashed to pieces on the rocks below."
"Good!" cried George, excitedly.
"And just think then what a good time the Indians have picking up the pieces," commented Gus, "I'd like to see them do it. Just think of two or three hundred Indians all at work together, jerking the meat, and shouting and dancing."
"Ah, yes. That's all very well!" said Aggie, thoughtfully. "But I wouldn't like so much to be the decoy. Suppose he couldn't hide in time."
"Sometimes he can't," said Guy, "and in that case he is trodden under foot by the herd, or carried with them over the precipice. I am like you, Aggie, I shouldn'tlike to be the decoy. It is bad enough to face one buffalo, and I have no wish to try a hundred."
"Oh, dear!" exclaimed Aggie, "I should die with fright if I were to meet even one."
"Oh! That's because you are nothing but a girl—but boys—!" George left his sentence unfinished, for of late he had become very careful of boasting before Guy, whom he knew was too well acquainted with him to be deceived by empty words.
"Girls, or no girls!" exclaimed Aggie, a little angrily, "I learned those verses mamma gave us, to-day, while you don't know them at all!"
"Verses are only made for girls!" answered George, contemptuously.
"And for some boys," said Guy, "I for one like to hear them. What are yours about Aggie?"
"Listen! They are about
'THE CHILDREN IN THE SKY.'
"Little Allie, tired with roaming,Fell asleep one summer day;In the soft, and mellow gloaming,That the fairies haunt, they say.And, into her dream, there came thenFays, or Angels pure and fair,Filling all the lonesome glenWith sweet music, rich and rare."'Child!' they said, as slow around herOne by one they floated on,'Look into the clearer ether,Close beside the setting sun!'Then she looked, and lo! the cloudletsParted back and showed her there,Myriad angels, sinless spiritsSporting in a garden fair."Sporting, smiling, fondly twining,Round each other snow white arms;While a halo o'er them shining,Saved them from the night's alarms.Loud they sung in notes of gladness,Ever o'er the sweet refrain;'Jesus loves us! we shall neverLose His tender care again.""'Here the flow'rets bloom forever;Here the sun of God doth shine;Here doth flow the crystal river,Giving all a life divine!'Then the peerless vision faded,And the fairies stole away;All the dell with gloom was shaded,Darkness 'round sweet Allie lay."Then she woke from out her slumber,And she said—within her heart—'Shall I join that happy number?In their joyous song take part?'Then she prayed that God would lead herIn the path to heaven above,And that she might dwell foreverBlessed by Christ's redeeming love."And before the year was over,God in love gave back reply,—For He led the little rover,To the children in the sky."
"Little Allie, tired with roaming,Fell asleep one summer day;In the soft, and mellow gloaming,That the fairies haunt, they say.And, into her dream, there came thenFays, or Angels pure and fair,Filling all the lonesome glenWith sweet music, rich and rare."'Child!' they said, as slow around herOne by one they floated on,'Look into the clearer ether,Close beside the setting sun!'Then she looked, and lo! the cloudletsParted back and showed her there,Myriad angels, sinless spiritsSporting in a garden fair."Sporting, smiling, fondly twining,Round each other snow white arms;While a halo o'er them shining,Saved them from the night's alarms.Loud they sung in notes of gladness,Ever o'er the sweet refrain;'Jesus loves us! we shall neverLose His tender care again.""'Here the flow'rets bloom forever;Here the sun of God doth shine;Here doth flow the crystal river,Giving all a life divine!'Then the peerless vision faded,And the fairies stole away;All the dell with gloom was shaded,Darkness 'round sweet Allie lay."Then she woke from out her slumber,And she said—within her heart—'Shall I join that happy number?In their joyous song take part?'Then she prayed that God would lead herIn the path to heaven above,And that she might dwell foreverBlessed by Christ's redeeming love."And before the year was over,God in love gave back reply,—For He led the little rover,To the children in the sky."
"Little Allie, tired with roaming,Fell asleep one summer day;In the soft, and mellow gloaming,That the fairies haunt, they say.And, into her dream, there came thenFays, or Angels pure and fair,Filling all the lonesome glenWith sweet music, rich and rare.
"Little Allie, tired with roaming,
Fell asleep one summer day;
In the soft, and mellow gloaming,
That the fairies haunt, they say.
And, into her dream, there came then
Fays, or Angels pure and fair,
Filling all the lonesome glen
With sweet music, rich and rare.
"'Child!' they said, as slow around herOne by one they floated on,'Look into the clearer ether,Close beside the setting sun!'Then she looked, and lo! the cloudletsParted back and showed her there,Myriad angels, sinless spiritsSporting in a garden fair.
"'Child!' they said, as slow around her
One by one they floated on,
'Look into the clearer ether,
Close beside the setting sun!'
Then she looked, and lo! the cloudlets
Parted back and showed her there,
Myriad angels, sinless spirits
Sporting in a garden fair.
"Sporting, smiling, fondly twining,Round each other snow white arms;While a halo o'er them shining,Saved them from the night's alarms.Loud they sung in notes of gladness,Ever o'er the sweet refrain;'Jesus loves us! we shall neverLose His tender care again."
"Sporting, smiling, fondly twining,
Round each other snow white arms;
While a halo o'er them shining,
Saved them from the night's alarms.
Loud they sung in notes of gladness,
Ever o'er the sweet refrain;
'Jesus loves us! we shall never
Lose His tender care again."
"'Here the flow'rets bloom forever;Here the sun of God doth shine;Here doth flow the crystal river,Giving all a life divine!'Then the peerless vision faded,And the fairies stole away;All the dell with gloom was shaded,Darkness 'round sweet Allie lay.
"'Here the flow'rets bloom forever;
Here the sun of God doth shine;
Here doth flow the crystal river,
Giving all a life divine!'
Then the peerless vision faded,
And the fairies stole away;
All the dell with gloom was shaded,
Darkness 'round sweet Allie lay.
"Then she woke from out her slumber,And she said—within her heart—'Shall I join that happy number?In their joyous song take part?'Then she prayed that God would lead herIn the path to heaven above,And that she might dwell foreverBlessed by Christ's redeeming love.
"Then she woke from out her slumber,
And she said—within her heart—
'Shall I join that happy number?
In their joyous song take part?'
Then she prayed that God would lead her
In the path to heaven above,
And that she might dwell forever
Blessed by Christ's redeeming love.
"And before the year was over,God in love gave back reply,—For He led the little rover,To the children in the sky."
"And before the year was over,
God in love gave back reply,—
For He led the little rover,
To the children in the sky."
"That is a sweet little tale," said Guy, when Aggie had finished, "But it is almost a pity such a good little girl should die."
"But the good little girls, in stories, always do die!" exclaimed George, "And that is why I don't like to hear about them. That's the reason, too, that I tease our Aggie so, I want to get her into a passion so she won't get too good and be spirited out of the world right away."
They all laughed at this ingenious defense; and then as Guy declared himself very tired, and quite stiff and sore from the number of bruises upon his body, they soon separated for the night, and ere long all was still about the camp, except the fires that flickered and blazed, as if in derision of the calm night, and its heavy-eyed attendant—Sleep.
The following Saturday night found the party encamped in the very bosom of the mountains, in one of the most lovely nooks upon the surface of the earth. As they looked around upon the verdant dell, and upon the snow-capped mountains that arose in the distance, all the arid plain they had passed,—the desert of alkali, and the hills of sand—seemed like a dream, so great was the contrast between them and Virginia Dale. Even George was enraptured, and when the children as usual gathered at evening around the fire, he declared that he would go no father but turn hermit, and hunt and fish for a living, in that lovely spot.
"I wish I could stay with you," said Aggie, "but I shouldn't like to leave papa and mamma. But only look at the moon rising above that snowy peak; isn't it perfectly lovely?"
"Watching the moon is all very well?" exclaimed Gus, "but I would much rather hear a good story. This is the very night for a story, and a sentimental one at that. Guy get your thinking-cap on, that's a good fellow!"
"Oh yes, do!" assented Aggie.
"I have had it tightly drawn over my ears the whole time I have been sitting here," answered Guy laughing, "and the result is that I have been thinking of a story the Indians tell about the first snow storm."
"Oh yes! put it all off on the Indians!" cried Gus, "we all know what that means!"
"Well, what do they say?" asked George,"that they thought it was salt, and put it into their soup, and were surprised to find that it made it watery—and nothing more?"
"Now don't tease Guy," interrupted Aggie, "I want to know what the Indians really did say, and where the first fall of snow really was."
"According to my authority," answered Guy, gravely, "it took place among these very mountains. Years, years ago, so many years that all remembrance of the time is now lost, and only vague reports of it remain, the snowy mountains we now see were covered with verdure, even more luxuriant than that which makes this vale so beautiful. The long leaves, and the shining silk of the corn waved in the breeze that softly played about the lofty summits, lovely flowers opened, and rich fruits ripened in the warm sunshinethat ever fell upon them. The bounding deer came to the very doors of the wigwams that were so thickly placed that they seemed to form a vast city, and the very trout in the sparkling streams leaped into the hands of the happy people that inhabited this earthly paradise!"
"Gracious, what a saving of fishing-tackle!" ejaculated George.
Guy took no notice of this irreverent remark, but continued:
"On the very summit of yonder peak, which seems to rise at least a thousand feet above its neighbors, and where the sun shone the warmest, the grains and fruits were most luxuriant, and the deer larger and tamer than in any other place, lived an old man, the chief of all the tribes that lived between the mountains and the great ocean in the far west. The oldest men amongst the Indians could notremember when he was young, and their great-grandfathers had told them that he was old when they were children. His beard was like silver, and his face bore the marks of that wisdom which can only come with age, yet his form was not bent, and his eyes were as strong as the eagle's, that soars up and looks in the face of the sun."
"Wonderful man!" said Gus.
"He was indeed wonderful, and the wisest man upon the earth; he knew all secrets of the land, and sea, and air, and from them he had gained the elixir that still kept the blood warm in his veins after the lapse of centuries, but he could not get from them contentment,—his soul at last wearied of the habit of clay it had worn so long, and he began a search for one worthy to be the inheritor of his wisdom, and the successor of his power, that he might lie down and be at rest.
"He found one at length, but not among the young men of his tribe, among whom he sought long and patiently. The strength of mind, the purity of soul he desired, were found only in the person of a lovely girl, the daughter of one of the bravest warriors of the mountains. To her he gave the elixir of life, and instructed her in all the secrets he had gained. Lastly, he took off the robe he wore, and putting it upon her, led her out of the wigwam and declared her a priestess before all the people. Soon after the great magician became a decrepit old man, the weight of his years came upon him and he died, and his body was laid upon a burning pile and consumed to ashes, while all the people mourned around it. Then the priestess went to her wigwam on the high mountains and sat down and thought of the last words the deadman had said to her, 'Beware of him who reigneth at the northernmost part of the earth, for if thou showest weakness or any human passion he will have dominion over thee and all thy people.' But years passed on and no human feeling agitated her. She lived alone communing with spirits, and at sundry times appearing among the people to astonish them by her wisdom which as years advanced, become a thousand times more potent than had been that of the old magician. And as her wisdom increased so also did her beauty. Spirits came and took the ebony from her hair, and covered it with gold; they brought blue from the skies and prisoned it in her eyes; the white stars laid their light upon her face, and sunbeams rendered her smile so warm and tender that it gladdened all upon whom it fell.
"As I have said, she was troubled by no human feeling; but alas! she inspired what she did not feel, for all the young braves worshipped her, not only as a priestess, but as a peerless maiden, and all their awe could not destroy their love. As she knew every thing, she was of course aware of their silent devotion, but she laughed in the solitude of her wigwam, and sang:
'Alstarnah must no passion own,That mortal e'er before hath known.'
'Alstarnah must no passion own,That mortal e'er before hath known.'
'Alstarnah must no passion own,That mortal e'er before hath known.'
'Alstarnah must no passion own,
That mortal e'er before hath known.'
"And this she would sing over and over to herself, that she might keep the words of the magician in mind. But after the lapse of many years, she one day ceased to sing, for Alstarnah felt the most powerful of all human passions—she loved."
"I'm glad of that!" ejaculated Gus, "just paid her out for keeping up that monotonous drone so long."
"Oh! don't interrupt!" cried Aggie, impatiently, "who did she love, Guy?"
"The young chief, Gervassen, who had come many thousand miles from the burning plains of the far south, to behold the renowned priestess of the mountains. As Alstarnah excelled all women in beauty and wisdom, so did he all men in beauty and strength. He was as tall and slender as the mountain pine, and his face was as fair to look upon as the great star that hung above the North King's palace. He came to the mountains with great pomp, for a thousand of his enemies pursued him, and he slew them all with the masses of rock that he hurled down upon them. See, there they lie now like mighty castles in ruins.
"When the priestess, Alstarnah, saw this man she thought no more of the magician's words or of her own power, but gloried inthe beauty that had been given her, and said, 'He will surely love me, for there is not upon all the earth a woman as fair.'
"And her words were true, Gervassen did love her, and more bold than all the rest, entreated her to be his wife. With great joy she placed her hand in his, but at the moment she was about to speak, she felt an icy wind blow over her and a voice exclaim: 'Beware of the King of the North! Pity thy people!'
"She fled to her wigwam in terror, and for days refused to admit the chieftain, who stood without pleading for an answer but at length she ventured to glance at him through a tiny hole in the buffalo hide that formed the walls of her tent, and in an instant all her love for her people and all fear of the warning voice vanished, and she promised to be Gervassen's bride.
"Again came the icy wind and the voice,but so infatuated was she that they failed to turn her from her purpose, although her lover asked the meaning of them. She trembled as she told him that years before there had been a tremendous battle waged between the King of the North and the forces of the great magician. That the latter had finally triumphed, after a terrible struggle, and after yielding one important point to his enemy, which was, that if the magician or any of his successors yielded to human passion, the help of the spirits should be withdrawn from them, and their dominion and people left to the power of the terrible North King.
"'It cannot be that he exists,' returned the warrior, 'else he would have endeavored to enter the land over which my tribe is scattered, and never, never has one of his subjects been seen or heard of upon it.'
"In spite of all her wisdom, this reasoning of Gervassen convinced Alstarnah, who soon after stood up before all the people and bade them farewell, saying that she was going to dwell in the wigwam of the mighty chieftain, Gervassen.
"Then she took her lover's hand and began the descent of the charmed mountain, followed by all her people, who were weeping and wailing, and entreating that she would come back to them. But still she went on, but only slowly, because of the great press of people around her; and suddenly an icy wind passed over them, and all fell to the earth shivering and terror-stricken, for they had never felt cold before, and they looked up to the mountain, and lo! upon the very summit, at the door of the deserted wigwam, stood a terrible figure, clothed in white, and having a face as white as his robes, and his hairwas like the long crystals that hang from the roofs of caves that the water goes through, and his eyes were like two great diamonds, white, yet blazing like the sun. Over his head he waved a sceptre, and as fast as he waved, great flakes of whiteness came out of the clouds and covered all the mountain tops, and came nearer and nearer to the frightened people.
"'It is the terrible North King,' they cried. 'See, he is throwing his arrows upon us.'
"'I will return,' cried Alstarnah, filled with remorse. 'I will return and save my people.'
"But once more she heard the voice as it wailed 'Too late! too late!' and the icy wind came and arrested her returning footsteps, for it chilled her to ice by the side of Gervassen, for whom she had dared so much. Then he and all the people werefilled with still greater terror and turned to flee down the mountains, but the snow flakes—the deadly arrows of the North King, came faster and faster, falling before as well as behind them, clogging the feet and chilling the life-blood of the people Alstarnah had betrayed.
"First, Gervassen fell, almost at the side of Alstarnah: then, one by one, all the rest of the people sank down and were buried by the soft, white snow, until at last not one remained to tell of the verdure that once crowned the mountains where the North King still reigns, or of the people he slew with terrible arrows of snow, like those he still loves to throw in derision upon any daring traveler that attempts to invade his dominions."
"And that is the story of the first Snow Storm."
"I'll tell you what, Guy," commentedGeorge, "You won't tell stories about facts, I know, but you make up for it when you have fancies to deal with."
Guy laughed, saying, "He supposed there was no harm in that."
And little Aggie said, as she bade him good-night, "I guess you will be forgiven even if there is, Guy. And I am sure I shall never look at these mountains or see snow again without thinking of your story."
For some time Aggie found no difficulty in keeping her word, for the train were obliged to pass over a part of the Rocky Mountains, and many a strange adventure they met upon the way. Those that had been over the route before said they got along remarkably well, while those to whom the experience was new, declared that with the breaking down of some wagons, the unloading of others, and letting them and goods they contained down the precipices by ropes, and the accidents attendant upon such work, they found the journey anything but delightful. The children enjoyed this part of the trip more than any other, for, with the exception ofGuy, they had no more work to do, and had much more to interest and amuse them.
But upon the whole they were rather glad when they got upon the level ground again, and especially so when they neared the shores of the great Salt Lake, and passed by the city that stands upon its shores.
Mr. Harwood had intended to visit it, and spend three or four days in looking about the city and endeavoring to learn something about the manners and customs of the people that inhabited it, but several of the party were anxious to reach their destination, and for that and many other reasons they passed the dwelling place of the Mormons by. Although the children were greatly disappointed at not being able to go into the city, they could not help speaking and thinking with delightof the beautiful country they had passed over to reach it.
"It seems to me," said Aggie one day when they stopped to rest, "that four seasons had wandered out of some years and lost themselves up among those mountains."
"You're crazy!" said George contemptuously.
"I think not," said Guy kindly, "but what could have put such a queer idea as that into your head, Aggie?"
"Why you know," she said, "the grass was fresh and green there as if it was spring time, and yet very often while you were gathering buttercups to make me a chain, George and Gus would be pelting you with snow-balls, while the summer sun was shining upon us all the day long."
"That's so," exclaimed George, "I shouldnever have thought of it again. It's the queerest place I ever saw in my life, except this very great valley which we are in now. Papa says it is over three hundred miles from the Rocky Mountains to the Sierra Nevadas, yet although we haven't been out of sight of the first for more than a week, we shall see the tops of the others in a few days, and then, hurrah! we've only to cross them and we shall be in California! Won't that be glorious?"
"Yes, I shall be glad," said Aggie, "for I was beginning to think as mamma said the other day, 'that we never should see a house again.' And won't you be glad, Guy, not to have to get up so early to make the fires in the morning, and to work so late at night, often after walking over the hot sands all day?"
"I don't know," said Guy rather sadly, "You have all been very kind to me here,and though I have often worked very hard, I guess it won't be all play formein California."
Little Aggie often thought of these words of Guy in the days that followed, as they drew nearer and nearer their destination, and each member of the company spoke of his or her hopes or prospects. She noticed that upon that Guy, as well as his mother, was always silent, and many, many hours she sat in the wagon puzzling her little head as to what would become of their favorite.
She even spoke of it to Guy when they were alone together, but he seldom would say anything about it. He was not like some people that find comfort in talking over perplexing questions, and it certainly was a very perplexing question to him, how he was to support his mother in the strange country to which he had induced her to come, forthough young, Guy was too wise to think that gold lay all over the land, and all that any one had to do was to stoop and pick it up, though many older than himself in the train still believed that old fable, which deceived many in the time of Cortez, over two hundred years before.
But although Guy was so uncertain as to what his fate would be in California, he soon became as anxious to reach it as the rest, for nothing for many weeks occurred to break the monotony of their journey, and the only excitement they had at all was in looking out for Indians, which were said to be very plenty upon their route, and in being constantly pleasurably disappointed in not coming upon any.
One day, indeed, they were greatly surprised by the descent of a terrific rain storm upon them, for they had never dreamed of encountering rain in thatelevated region, where not even a drop of dew was found in the early morning. At the time it occurred a party from the train, among whom was Guy, were out hunting. They saw the black clouds rising above the mountains, but leisurely continued their way intent upon obtaining some game for supper, when, suddenly, a blast of wind swept down upon them, bringing with it torrents of water, as if, as Guy afterwards said, another deluge had come to sweep every living thing from the earth's surface.
For a moment the horses stood still as if stunned, and their riders bent low over the saddles, then, suddenly wheeling, the animals turned their heads away from the furious blast, and in that position waited for it to expend its fury. Neither whip nor spur would induce them to move, though Mr. Harwood used both freely, being anxious to gain the camp and satisfyhimself of the safety of his family. The horses chose the best position, according to the instinct which had been given them to escape from danger, and they maintained it until the fury of the storm was spent, and then obediently carried their riders to the camp, where they found two or three of the lighter wagons blown over, and a number of articles scattered hither and thither. All the people however were safe though greatly frightened.
As George said, the great rain storm seemed to have come expressly to wash all interest out of their journey, for from that day until their arrival within sight of Carson River, within the Territory of Nevada, where a part of the company were to part from the main body, they saw but little to interest them. True they had passed over a wonderful country, but the alkali plains seemed small in comparison to the desert, over which they had passed some weeks before, and all the grandeur of the Sierra Nevada Mountains could not awaken in them one iota of the enthusiasm with which they had greeted the first glimpse of the snow-capped summits of the RockyMountains. In fact they were too weary of their long journey to look around them for enjoyment, but rather looked forward to it, when all deserts of alkali, of sand and sage-brush being past, they might by the rivers and in the peaceful vales of California find rest and plenty.
As I have said before, all in the company but Guy and his mother had something to look forward to. Many of the young men were going to the placer diggings or the deep mines, and spoke exultantly of the rich harvest they would surely glean. Mr. Graham had a quartz mill in a very fine situation, and he was going to take charge of it, and his sisters were to keep house for him, while Mr. Frazer and Mr. Harwood had decided to purchase farms and settle upon them.
The last night that all in the train were to encamp together, a large fire was builtand all gathered around it to talk over their plans. Guy sat by Aggie's side and tried to talk to her, but he could not help listening to what was said, and that, with the knowledge that they were so near California—their journey's end,—made him feel so miserable that he walked away from the fire, and hid himself in a dark place, and cried as if his heart would break.
What was he to do when compelled to leave these friends? Almost penniless where was he in that new, unsettled country to find a home for his mother. For himself he could provide, but what should he do for his mother? He had heard that work, hard work, was plenty; but his mother could not do hard work; it had nearly killed her before, and doubtless there were few children to be taught. What could he do with her? Whereshould he leave her, while he went to try his fortune?
It never entered his head to ask any one to give her a home. He felt under unpayable obligations already to Mr. Harwood for bringing them so far upon their way, and treating them so kindly, therefore to ask him to do more, he thought would be the greatest presumption, so instead of asking help of any man, he asked it of God.
He was still sitting with his head bowed on his knees, and the tears streaming down his cheeks, most earnestly praying, when, suddenly, a flash from the light of a lantern passed over him, and a voice exclaimed: "why, here you are, I have been searching for you for ever so long."
It was one of the young men from St. Louis, with whom Guy had been on most excellent terms ever since they left W——.
"Yes, it is I," he returned, rather reluctantly, for he was ashamed that he should have found him crying. "What is the matter, John?" he presently added.
"The matter! why, don't you know we are to break up camp to-morrow, and one party go one way into California, and the other another! Now, which one are you going with, Guy?"
"I don't know," he said, with difficulty repressing a sob, "one part of California is the same to me as another. I have no friends there, and, oh dear, I very much fear I ought not to have come at all."
"Oh, don't say that," exclaimed John, cheerfully, "you just come along with me and my partners, we are going straight to the placer diggings, and we'll take care of you until you can do for yourself, which won't be long, you may be sure; I shouldn'twonder if you're as rich as Rothschild in a few years."
Guy's eyes sparkled, but in a moment his countenance fell, and he faltered out,—
"But what is to become of mother,—I couldn't leave her alone in a strange country, her heart would break."
"Sure enough, I never thought of her, but something might be done, she wouldn't break her heart, if she didn't starve."
"Ah, but she might do both!" exclaimed Guy. "Indeed, I cannot leave her. We must live and strive together, John. I thank you for your offer, but I can't leave my mother."
"You're a nobler fellow than the Spartan that let the wolf gnaw his vitals rather than cry out," replied the young man, "and though you won't join us, Guy, I don't doubt but you'll find good fortune somewhere."
"Thank you," said Guy, and comforted by the young man's kind offer, though he could not accept it, he walked back to the fire, where he found only the Grahams and the Harwoods.
"We have been talking about you, Guy," said Mr. Harwood. "Mr. Graham says he will give you a place in the mill if you will go with him."
"That I will, sir!" cried Guy, joyfully, his heart bounding, then falling like lead as he added, "but my mother?"
"I think she will consent," said Mr. Graham.
"Oh, sir, it was not of that I was thinking, it was of what would become of her. Oh, sir, she is poor and friendless, and I couldn't think of leaving her alone."
"I say then," said George, who had apparently been engaged in building castles in the air, or anything else rather thanlistening to the conversation, "I say, now that Guy isn't going with Mr. Graham, it's cold enough up there to kill his mother, make an icicle of her before Christmas, you know you said last night it was."
"Is that true, sir?" asked Guy, turning to Mr. Graham.
"Why, I can't say that your mother would be an icicle before Christmas," returned Mr. Graham, laughing, "but it certainly is far too cold and stormy there for a delicate woman."
"Ah, then, sir!" returned Guy, very sadly, "I cannot go with you, I cannot leave my mother."
"Hurrah!" cried George, turning a double somersault before the fire, and nearly into it.
"What's the matter?" asked Guy, in astonishment.
"Why, it means," said Mr. Harwood,"that if you will not leave your mother, you must stay with us, as she has consented to do. Much as I disliked to part with you, who have been so invaluable to me on the way, I did not like to ask you to remain with us while others were ready to offer you, in mines and mills, so much better opportunities of gaining money than I can upon my little farm. There, for some time at least, there will be more work than money, I guess. So now, Guy, you know your mother will, at any rate, have a home; Mr. Graham will give you much higher wages than I can."
At that point, Aggie began to cry bitterly, saying, "Guy, you mustn't go away! who should I have to tell me stories?"
"And, besides, my dog Jack can't smoke yet," interrupted Gus, "and you promised to teach him, and you've got to stay and do it."
"That's so," said George. "I expect I shall burn the house down trying to smoke, if you don't. You see I haven't forgotten how you threw that flour and water on me in the burning wagon, yet, and you have to stay and let me have satisfaction for that!"
"Yes, do stay," said Aggie, coaxingly.
"I intend to," cried Guy, bursting out into a loud laugh to prevent himself from crying with joy at his good fortune. "Hasn't it nearly broken my heart to think of leaving you, Aggie, and Mr. and Mrs. Harwood, and all the rest? Indeed, I would rather be with you all, if you were as poor as—as—"
"Job's turkey," suggested George.
"Well, yes, or as I am myself, than be a prince without you."
After which burst of eloquence Guy sat down, bringing a scream of dismay fromAggie, upon whom he had inadvertently seated himself.
"Now that is all settled," said Mr. Harwood, dismissing the matter in his usual cool way, though one could see he was much gratified, "we will have prayers."
He arose and rung the large bell and all the company gathered around him, as they had often done upon the plains and the mountains, and listened to the word of God. Then he spoke to them of what had passed, and gave his best wishes to each. All were much affected at his kindly words, and by the short prayer that followed. There were few dry eyes there as those that were to leave on the morrow bade farewell, and it was with deep grief Guy parted with his many friends.
At daybreak next morning the final separation took place, a long train of waggons diverged to another path, leaving thefamilies of Mr. Frazer and Mr. Harwood to take their way alone into California.