XXVIIITHE STAMPEDE
The next morning brought unexpected delays. The repairs about the camp and wagons consumed more time than had been anticipated, and it was ten o’clock before the cattle, which had been allowed to stray farther from camp than usual, in search of the dried and scanty herbage that alone staved off starvation, were driven into camp and hurried down to the river-bank to drink. The swiftness, foam, and suddenchill of the water, its depth and roaring, confused and frightened the half-sick and half-starved animals; and one, a patriarchal bull, the master and leader of the herd, who had often before made trouble, gave vent to a deep, sonorous bellow like the roar of an ancient aurochs. Then, with nose in air, he struck out across the stream, the herd following. A small, rocky cape crept out into the water on the opposite bank, affording the only visible landing-place; and up this the panic-stricken creatures scrambled in a mad stampede, which the helpless occupants of the camp surveyed with the calmness of despair.
“I had no idea that the poor creatures had enough life left in them to run a dozen rods on level ground,” said Captain Ranger, after a grim silence. “Boys,” he added in a husky voice, as he swallowed a great lump in his throat, “are any of you able to swim Snake River?”
“I can do it,” answered John Brownson, an obliging young teamster, who had joined the company early in the journey and had made himself useful on many trying occasions.
“And I too,” said John Jordan, another favorite of road and camp. The two intrepid volunteers shook hands with their anxious Captain and plunged boldly into the roaring, swirling, deafening torrent, through which Jordan swam with ease, his head now bobbing out of sight and now rising above the foaming current, to disappear again and again, till at last he was seen to emerge from the water on the opposite steep and ascend the almost sheer acclivity leading to the table-land above. It was a brave and daring feat, but it proved fruitless. The poor, panic-stricken cattle failed to recognize as a friend the stark white apparition, entirely bereft of clothing. It was all in vain that he called the leader of the herd by name; and when the frightened creature turned and charged him, and there was no shelter but some patriarchal sagebrush trees, he took refuge behind thebiggest of them till the aurochs changed his mind and turned to follow the stampeding herd.
The panic continued. The stampede was irresistible. The cattle were lost, and most of them were never heard of more, though it is said that Flossie, the companion and patient of Jean during the hours of her vigil on that never-to-be-forgotten night in the Black Hills,—Flossie, the faithful, enduring, and kindly-eyed milch cow whose calf had been killed on the road,—reappeared long afterwards in the sagebrush wilds of Baker County, Oregon, with quite a following of her children, grandchildren, and great-great-grandchildren, all but herself as wild as so many deer. Flossie herself was recognized, they say, by the Ranger brand; and her hide, with the letters J. R. still visible behind the shoulder-blade, is to-day a valued relic of departed years in the mansion of a prominent actor in the drama of that eventful summer.
But what of Brownson? All day the hapless watchers of the camp had strained their eyes and ears for sight or sound of him, in vain.
“He must have been caught with cramps, or been dashed against the rocks by the current, for I saw him drown,” said Jordan, at sundown, as he rejoined the helpless watchers near the wagons.
Meanwhile, the men and women of the camp had not been idle. The lightest wagon-box the train afforded was selected and pressed into service for a ferry-boat; and while the men made oars, rowlocks, and rudder as best they could with the materials at hand, the women skilfully caulked the seams of the wagon-bed with an improvised substitute for oakum, under the supervision of the Little Doctor, making it tolerably water-tight. The wagon-box was then replaced on wheels and hauled upstream about half-a-dozen miles to a little valley where the river was wide, the banks low, and the water comparatively shoal and calm.
It was conjectured by Captain Ranger that the entireforce of men in the train might be able, by a concerted effort, to assist the watcher on the upland in his brave attempt to arrest the stampede and secure the cattle’s return. But their united efforts were unavailing; and long before they returned, disheartened, apprehensive, and weary, the helpless watchers at the camp saw the bruised body of Captain Ranger’s favorite mare rolling, tumbling, bumping, and thumping through the roaring waters and among the jagged rocks, near the very spot where Brownson had been drowned.
Noble, faithful, obedient Sukie! In her attempt to swim the river with her devoted master, who was seated in the stern of the novel boat leading her by the halter and encouraging her with kindly words, her strength failed utterly; and when she turned upon her side and Captain Ranger let go his hold upon the halter, she uttered a dying scream, rolled over, and was gone.
“If there isn’t any horse heaven, the creative Force has been derelict in duty,” sadly exclaimed the master, as he watched the lifeless body of his beloved and faithful servant floating down the stream.
Through the silent watches of the awful night that followed, John Ranger pondered, planned, and waited.
His three daughters and three younger children, Sally O’Dowd and her three babies, and Susannah and George Washington, all occupied the family wagon, around which he stalked through the silent hours as one in a dream.
“A formidable array of dependent ones,” he said to himself over and over again. “And what is to become of my Annie’s darlings? Was it for this that she started with me on this terrible journey?”
There was no audible answer to his anxious queries save the roaring of the river as it crashed its way between the rocks that formed its grim and tortuous channel.
Weary at last of walking, he crept into his tent beside Hal, who had been dead to the world from themoment he touched his bed, so sweet is the deep forgetfulness of childhood when “tired Nature’s sweet restorer, balmy sleep,” is preparing it for the further endurance of an exacting and ambitious life. But Captain Ranger could not sleep. He arose and faced again the silent horrors of the situation.
The stars twinkled overhead in their usual triumph over disturbing forces; and, slowly fading into the coming twilight, rode the gibbous moon.
In his helplessness the lonely watcher lifted up his voice and prayed.
“I’ve never felt much worry over original sin, O Lord!” he cried, standing with hands uplifted in the chilly air, “but you know I’ve generally been honest. I’ve tried hard to do my duty according to my lights. I didn’t mean to bring my Annie and her babies out here in the wilderness to die; but you understood the conditions, and because you understood, you took my wife away. I rebelled at first, but you helped me to bear it for her sake; and for this, for the first time, I thank you. And now, if you have the love for her children for which she always gave you credit, I am sure that you’ll guide me safely out of this present trouble. And if you do, O Lord, I’ll serve you as long as I live in whatever way you lead. Amen.”
“I have been young, and now am old; yet have I not seen the righteous forsaken, nor his seed begging bread!”
“Who spoke to me?” he asked, aloud. “Where did that voice come from? I could have sworn it was Annie! No; Annie is dead!”
In a flurry of excitement he peered in all directions, listening eagerly. But in his soul there slowly crept a quiet peace, and with it a sense of security and elation which he could not comprehend; neither could he doubt its reality.
Before him passed, in mental review, the strenuousdays of his boyhood, awakening youth, and early manhood. The memory of his mother arose before him, inexpressibly sweet and tender. He thought lovingly of his father, strong in the religious faith of which he had often made a jest. His gentle Annie seemed so near that he could almost reach her. But closer to him than any other seemed the presence of his brother Joseph. What a promising lad he was, and with what joy had the whole family striven to bestow upon him the educational advantages to which none of the others had dared to aspire!
Then passed before him, like scenes in a panorama, the awful pecuniary straits that followed, when the beloved brother fell under the ban of the law.
Then came in review his unexpected meeting with that brother in the wilderness. “Forgive my pride, brutality, and selfishness, O Lord! and by all that’s holy, I’ll make it right with Joe!”
And who shall say that this unique appeal to the great Source of Life was less acceptable to the Infinite than the studied petitions of gowned prelates? whose often conflicting appeals to Jehovah, if answered literally, would plunge the world into confusion and chaos under the diverse demands of the children of men.
His prayer ended, the chilled and worried wanderer returned to his bed and readdressed himself to sleep, this time with such success that when he awoke the sun was riding high in the heavens, and he heard the familiar voice of a train-master, whom he had left in his rear by taking the Green River cut-off, and who had now overtaken him.
“Hello, Captain!” exclaimed the new arrival, striking the wall of the sleeper’s tent with the butt of his heavy ox-whip. “What’s all this I’ve been hearing? Didn’t you get back any of your stampeded cattle?”
“Nary a hoof,” replied the Captain. “I tell you we’re in a mighty bad fix, Harlan.”
“How are you going to get out?”
“Don’t know yet. It’s a ground-hog case, though, I’m bound to make it somehow. Got any cattle to sell?”
“Possibly. Might spare two yoke and an odd steer. Got any money?”
“A few dollars. But I don’t want to get into Oregon dead broke. Can’t you trust a fellow till we reach the settlements?”
“I could if we weren’t running short o’ grub. This journey has cost like the dickens from the start; and it won’t get any cheaper on the home stretch. Every fellow you strike wants money. It wasn’t so in the States.”
“We can swap accommodations if we like, Harlan. I have several bags of jerked buffalo meat.” His voice faltered, as he remembered that this meat had been prepared by the order of his vanished wife. “We laid in a lot of flour and other stuff at our last Utah trading-post; so we’re not short.”
An old-fashioned game of barter and dicker was soon concluded; and Captain Ranger set his men to work, rearranging the wagons and making ready to move on.