Cornville Hollow, Iowa, May 6, 1897.Prof. Pithygors Pod, Eskire, M. D.:Illustrious Sir:—My wife has give me unexpeckted opertunety ter do ye the grate onner of namin our latest and last kid after ye and if ye cum this here way ye will see a namesake ye will be prowd of. Times are not so good with us of late but hope they air with you wishing you a socksessfull jurny I remane Yours fraternallyCy Sumac.
Cornville Hollow, Iowa, May 6, 1897.
Prof. Pithygors Pod, Eskire, M. D.:
Illustrious Sir:—My wife has give me unexpeckted opertunety ter do ye the grate onner of namin our latest and last kid after ye and if ye cum this here way ye will see a namesake ye will be prowd of. Times are not so good with us of late but hope they air with you wishing you a socksessfull jurny I remane Yours fraternally
Cy Sumac.
I did not see Pod's reply, but I took him to the post office to purchase a ninety-nine cent money order, which he mailed to Cy, and overheard him say that was all the money he had when he started and no man had a right to think he was any richer now, and hoped naming children after him wasn't going to become a fad.
On our way to the hotel a little girl, walking with her papa, expressed the wish to ride on my back. Pod overheard her, and jumping off, placed the little one in the saddle, and led me down the street.
Pod is never safe without a chaperone. He had no more than got his land legs than a monstrous colored woman, whose avoirdupois was out of proportion to her energy, and with shoes that made him keep his distance, stepped in his way, and with a grin half the width of an adult watermelon asked him if he was "shully dat wonderful traveler Pye-tag-o-rastus w'at was chasin' a mule roun de world."
For a second Pod was somewhat colored, too; but he laughed, and said he believed he was the gentleman. Then the old mammy held out a great black hand, with knotted fingers, looking more like an elephant's foot than anything else, and asked if she might have the honor to walk a piece with him. The Professor took the proffered hand, and the pair sauntered on down town, and were soon lost in the crowd.
TOC
BY PYE POD.
"Why, Toby's nought but a mongrel; there's nought to look at in her." But I says to him, "Why, what are you yoursen but a mongrel? There wasn't much pickin' o'yourfeyther an' mother, to look at you." Not but what I like a bit o' breed myself, but I can't abide to see one cur grinnin' at another.—Mill on the Floss.
"Why, Toby's nought but a mongrel; there's nought to look at in her." But I says to him, "Why, what are you yoursen but a mongrel? There wasn't much pickin' o'yourfeyther an' mother, to look at you." Not but what I like a bit o' breed myself, but I can't abide to see one cur grinnin' at another.—Mill on the Floss.
The good old black mammy, who made my acquaintance on the street, called upon me at the hotel to present me with a little dog. I thanked her, and told her that one dog was all I could take care of; whereupon she argued that I should visit the Indian Reservation at Tama City, and if I presented a dog to the Chief that I would be royally received. A good idea; I wondered it had not occurred to me. I accepted the dog.
An hour later I came near being arrested for promoting a dog fight in defiance of the law. Don was generous, however, and left a little of the cur for the Indian Chief, but next morning the sight of a bandaged and plastered dog being dragged behind my outfit was gruesome indeed.
This is how I managed the dogs. I chained Don to one end of an eight-foot pole, and the mongrel to the other, so that the dogs could not get closer than four feet. Then I chained Don to the saddle-horn.
I hoped to reach the town of DeWitt before dark. Everything went smoothly and I was congratulating myself on getting out of the city without a mishap, when, suddenly, both dogs leaped to the opposite side of my donkey in the effort to reach a cat basking in the sun. The pole yoke caught Mac's hind legs and upset us, almost causing a runaway. This and other incidents delayed me many hours. On arriving at the village tavern, "The Farmers' Home," I was agreeably surprised to find the landlord not so much out of spirits as I. A "night cap," then to bed.
Next day I rode sixteen miles, through the beautiful farming country to Wheatland. Nature was arrayed in Sabbath attire, and no sermon could have inpressed me more than the pure, sweet voicings of God's creation. Graceful turtle-doves, always in pairs, flitted in mid-air; bevies of quail whistled in the meadows and ditches; flying-squirrels, half winged, half jumped from tree to tree; and coy Norwegian girls scampered indoors as my "mountain canaries" now and then joined in a carol.
Just before entering town a gay cotton-tail rabbit shied at my pistol ball, allowing the ball to graze a calf grazing in the field beyond, to wing a pigeon on a barn further on, and eventually to announce my advent to the towns-folk in a most singular manner.
When I arrived, the church bell was faintly tolling, and a crowd of people were staring wild-eyed at the belfry tower. I inquired of a countryman what was up.
"Blamed if I know," said the sexton; "I was jest settin' down to feed, when sudden I heard a sharp clang of the church bell. Sounded like it was hit with a hammer. Whole hour before church, and the doors are locked. Now I'd like to know what sot that bell to chantin'."
"Go up and find out," I said.
"Not on yer life," he replied. "You may think us folks superstitious—well, we are. Lots of queer things happen in this town."
When I reached the privacy of my room, I did a good deal of thinking; but whichever way I reasoned I arrived at one conclusion. My pistol ball must have struck the bell after calling on the calf and the pigeon. It was merely a chant's shot.
The landlord of the Siegmund Hotel did not venture close enough to shake hands.
"Doos them dogs bite—yes?" he asked from the veranda.
"No," I answered, "they won't bite you and me, but they are very fond of each other."
Don looked up at me appealingly, as if he thought he had been persecuted. When the donkeys and the mongrel were in the barn, I turned Don loose. He was tickled, and ran round the barn three times, jumped over the hen-coop, upset the landlord, and then chased the house cat so that it climbed to the top of the hotel chimney. Most extraordinary dog; no common pastime satisfied him.
The hilly country I was now entering made it necessary for me to walk half the time, as a precaution against wearing out my animals. But the air was sweet with lilac, tulip, violet and apple blossoms; blue and red and yellow birds serenaded me as I passed, all making me feel somewhat repaid for my winter hardships.
The main street of Mechanicsville was beautifully shaded, and along the road-side was a tempting pasture for ruminating animals. As I rode along and admired the scenes, I recalled a sentence from the Scriptures: "Whatsoever cheweth the cud that shall ye eat." To the right, in the cool shade, reclined a gentle-eyed cow, chewing her cud; to the left, at the base of a magnificent tree, sat a pretty bloomer girl beside her bicycle, also chewing. I was puzzled.
On reaching Mount Vernon, I discovered, after diligent inquiries, that Washington had never been there, dead or alive. Cornell College, for boys and girls, distinguishes the place as a seat of learning, and the students showed an abnormal appetite for knowledge by purchasing my books and photos. A few miles west I crossed a ridge of wooded hills, descended into a lovely vale, crossed Cedar River, and drew rein at Bertram, a mountain town consisting of a railroad station, side track, tavern, store, and two to three houses.
From Bertram we mounted another and still higher ridge, from the summit of which I could see the great verdant valley, and, winding about it, a spiral cloud of smoke from the busy city of Cedar Rapids, where I arrived at six o'clock.
That evening, after a lapse of nine years, I met my old friend, Steve D——, who once had tramped Switzerland with me. After I had explained the cause of my unique pilgrimage and each had given an account of himself, he planned for me a pleasant two days' sojourn, and suggested it was time I had a useful traveling companion. As I moved westward, the towns would be farther apart and I would have to camp often on the highway. The services of an able and trusty man would save me much time. Steve said he would try to find him.
Cedar Rapids contains some of the largest oatmeal factories in the country. I met through my friend several pleasant people, dined with his family, and was tendered a spread at the Grand Hotel, to which a few of his friends were invited. Meanwhile I found the man I was looking for.
He was about twenty, had been night porter in a hotel, and was well recommended. Twice I refused him because of his apparent inexperience in "roughing it," but I was won over by his persistence at the third call. He said his name was "Coonskin," and Wisconsin the State of his nativity. His attainments were something extraordinary. He could sling a Saratoga trunk into a first story window; had painted the highest church steeples, and broken the wildest horses; could skin all kinds of game, and, with equal facility, could "skin the cat;" in fact, he had made an enviable record in athletics, and had won several championships for sprints. He could swim like a frog, and, as for shooting, his comrades couldn't touch him with any kind of a gun. He was never ill, and had stood all kinds of exposures from hanging all night on a church steeple after his ladder had fallen, to riding on the trucks of a baggage car, as the result of the disbanding of a theatre troupe.
This Coonskin was a wonderful combination of resources; he was the very man I wanted. He wished to go with me for fun and experience, and was perfectly satisfied if I would defray his expenses. I took Coonskin at once to make the acquaintance of Mac, Cheese, Don, and the mongrel, and to be assigned to his duties.
At nine o'clock the morning of our departure, he called at the hotel with a small bundle done up in a red handkerchief, and wearing a new pair of shoes.
"What have you in that bundle?" I asked.
"Everything."
"Extra suit of clothes?"
"Yep—and patches for emergency."
"Extra shoes already broken to your feet?"
"Yep—and chloride-of-lime and extra socks."
"Brush and comb and tooth brush?"
"Yep—and corn plasters and curry-comb."
"Extra suit of underwear and handkerchiefs?"
"Yep. Pajandrums, too."
I smiled in astonishment, so small was the bundle. "Well done," said I, "after this you shall do all my packing."
I was gratified to note Coonskin's quick perception, his alertness to obey, and his capacity for memorizing. He did not have to be told a thing more than three times before understanding it, and his lively interest in my welfare manifested itself at the start. When I went to the stable at eleven o'clock, I found he had added to my itinerant kennel a bull terrier, which took to Don as fondly as Don had taken to the mongrel. I remonstrated.
"The more dogs you offer the Indian Chief, the bigger time he will give you," said my valet. "Better keep the terrier; I'll preserve harmony."
Glad to shift some of my responsibilities to the broad shoulders of this young genius, I returned to the hotel and dressed for luncheon.
You may imagine how my heart was set aflutter when luncheon over, my valet rapped on the door and, venturing a foot in the room, said, with the courtliness of a Sancho Panza, "Your highness' donkeys and dogs are at the door."
My guests were as much amused as I, and accompanied me to the street, where a crowd had assembled. I shall never forget the expression on my old friend's face when he saw the dogs yoked together. A second pole had been brought into use, and, Don and the mongrel having become reconciled, the bull terrier was made a sort of pivot round which revolved the other two, a mean dog between two extremes.
Coonskin said at first he had made the little mongrel act as the pivotal dog, but he had no sooner left the animals than Don and Towser swung round and clinched in pugilistic style, and, had it not been for the efficacy of the stable hose, with all hands at the pump, the mongrel would have soon been converted into sausage.
It was nineteen miles to the village of Norway; we did not arrive there till eleven at night. Once or twice on the way Coonskin was prevailed upon to relieve me in the saddle for a couple of miles; but although his new shoes were paining him, as I could see from his gait, he was too "game" to admit it, and whenever I asked him to ride, protested that walking wasn't a circumstance with him. He would rather walk than eat.
We found Norway asleep. After assisting Coonskin to stable the donks and secure the dogs, I perused a newspaper while my young neophyte went out to smoke. When he limped in, I noticed his coat pocket bulged with something he would conceal. I did not question him. But before retiring, I opened his door to give him orders for the morrow, and found him dressing his feet with Indian ointment, which he admitted he had procured from the village druggist. He had with difficulty aroused the man from slumber, in consequence of which he was made to pay double price for his cure. Coonskin was somewhat embarrassed, but I praised his pluck in glowing terms, and put him at ease. Next day he was ready to take advice, by wearing his old shoes and riding most of the journey.
TOC
BY MAC A'RONY.
What made Balaam celebrated as an astronomer?He found an ass-to-roid.—Old Conundrum.
What made Balaam celebrated as an astronomer?He found an ass-to-roid.—Old Conundrum.
What made Balaam celebrated as an astronomer?
He found an ass-to-roid.—Old Conundrum.
I had heard about the chilly climate of Norway, and was not surprised when we donks met with a cold reception. We had plenty of hay but no grain. Next morning the landlord said that he expected some oats soon after our departure.
Pod had walked the last three miles, and warming up, had strapped his vest to the saddle, where I found it next morning. Peaking out of a pocket was a crisp five dollar greenback.
Now, a donkey likes anything that's green. I never had eaten a vest. But I determined to tackle this somewhat tough corduroy "steak," and made a fair breakfast on it, not to speak of its garnishes of green money, lead pencils, and a scented lace handkerchief, the one my master had long carried in the left inside pocket. Save for the fact that I got a few sharp bones of a pocket-comb in my teeth, and a page of court-plaster stuck in my throat, I relished the repast.
But not so the Professor. When he had searched some time for the vest, he looked at me. As luck would happen, I had left sufficient circumstantial evidence on the saddle to convict most any donkey, but no one in particular. However, I suppose I looked guilty, and my past record was against me. Pod was speechless a moment, then he made up for lost time, and said that he believed a jackass would devour a house and lot if he had the chance.
"I don't know about a house," I replied, "but I know I could eat a lot if it were set before me." Then I caught it!
By nine o'clock the clouds having dispersed, we started for Blairstown.
The Iowa farms were pleasing to my eye. Horses and cattle were cropping the juicy grass, hogs were shelling corn or taking mud-baths, fowls of all kinds were engaged in athletic sports trying to add some new feather to their plumage, and occasional bunches of sheep were standing in barnyards and corrals with wool pulled over their eyes, not knowing what to do with themselves. It looked like a Garden of Eden, where donkeys were excluded.
Finally we met a farmer with a team of lazy horses. Pod asked him if a donkey was a known quantity in those parts, and was told that a man by the name of K——, living near the next town, owned two that he had been trying to give away. A mile beyond, we met a man in a one-horse gig, who had a word to say, too. One donkey knows another when he meets him.
"Your name is K——?" Pod inquired.
"That's the name I always went by," said the black-eyed, black-hearted man. I did not like his looks; I felt it in my bones that Pod was going to be "done" by him. When a man or donkey is over anxious to acquire something, he is pretty sure to make a blunder. On being catechised, the man said his business was "hoss tradin' some, farmin' some, and various some."
"Hear you've got a donkey for sale," Pod observed.
"Nope," said K——, "but I've got two of 'em. Sell both er none."
"I was told you have tried to give them away," said Pod.
The "hoss trader" threw one leg over the other, spat tobacco juice in Don's eyes so he couldn't see all that might a-cur, raked timothy seed out of his whiskers, and inquired, "Who was tellin' ye that?"
"The fellow didn't give his name," answered Pod, "and I wouldn't undertake to describe his physical geography, but I could locate him if I wished to."
"If I could lay my hands on him, I'd dislocate him," said K——, snapping his eyes.
When my master told about his travels, the Iowan became interested, and showed signs of weakening on his ultimatum. Meanwhile, I discovered the subjects of the discussion grazing in a meadow, and brayed them a courteous "how to do," thus calling Pod's attention to them.
The hoss trader was sharp enough to see it, and his animal instinct told him that vanity was Pod's weak point; so he opened up with a little blarney.
"Now, Mr. Pod, I'm fair t' say I've sort o' takin' a likin' to ye, and I want to help ye along. I'll sell both my donkeys for ten dollars, er one for five and trade the other for one of your'n. Jest let your partner here run across the field and drive 'em over. I want ye to see 'em."
Coonskin went, and K—— continued: "They're two as fine-lookin' jennies as ye'll run across in many a day, both healthy and strong—not too young—not too old—often plow with 'em—kind and gentle—boy rides 'em everywhere—fast, too, but no danger runnin' away. Why, they're twice the size o' your'n, and 'll carry double the load."
"I'm more than satisfied with my donkeys" (very flattering to Cheese and myself), Pod affirmed, "and only require one more. If I am suited with one of your donkeys, I am willing to pay five dollars for it, but I will not trade one of mine, nor will I purchase both of yours."
By this time the animals arrived. They were certainly big enough, and as for the danger of their running away, they didn't act as if they could run ten feet if charged with a thousand volts of electricity. The farmer said he was bound to make a satisfactory deal with Pod somehow, and that if he wasn't convinced by the time we reached his house that both animals weren't superior to either of his (an absurdity on the face of it), then he would consider some other proposition.
When we reached the house, Cheese and I were generously fed, and Pod and Coonskin invited into dinner. Then K—— chased his donks around the yard, and felt them all over, and finally hoodwinked my master to buy one, and trade the other for Cheese. I could have kicked the daylight out of that man.
When K—— was on his way to town with his five dollars, Pod came to the stable. My new companions were crabbed old spinsters, and raised some objections to going with me.
"Where are you bound?" one asked.
"San Francisco," said I, "but I don't know where that is any more than do you. Guess it's land's end." Then I told them how far I had come, and that Pod said only a few days before that the journey had only begun; also, that he expected we donks would fall off some before long, from which I inferred the fall would be gradual and the horrors of death prolonged.
It was enough to frighten the wits out of any old maid, and it took a pitchfork, two hoe-handles and a crowbar to get those donkeys out of the gate. Then one of them balked, kicked, threw Coonskin, broke her halter, and ran back into the yard. She could run after all.
That was enough for Pod. He rode me back into the yard, and told Coonskin to fetch Cheese out of the barn. And it didn't take him long to shift the blanket from that gray spinster to my old chum.
"You just tell your dad when he returns," said Pod to K——'s son, "that I don't intend to put up with any such game. He grossly misrepresented that donkey; it would take a week to travel a mile with her. As I have paid him for the other one, she belongs to me and I shall push her along with the outfit. But this animal," and he pointed to Cheese, "is mine yet awhile. Good-bye."
"Do as you like," K——, Jr., replied. "I know nothin' 'bout yer agreement."
We covered the first mile in slow time. Coonskin's new steed was forever stopping, and straying out of the road to eat grass. The young man wore himself out keeping her moving by rapping her with the flat side of a hatchet. This big, brown jenny was made of the right stuff, but evidently lacked training and experience.
We were yet a half mile to Blairstown when a young woman and a child drove toward us with a skittish horse. It acted as though it had never seen a donkey. It pricked up its ears, and snorted, and, so help me Balaam! in a jiffy that buggy was on its side, the girls on the ground, and the horse running to beat a cyclone. Luckily, the girls escaped injury. My master was as frightened as he was chivalrous, and assisting the girls to their feet, invited them to ride us donkeys to town; which kind offer was respectfully declined.
On our arrival, Pod took us to a blacksmith's to have the new donkey's fore feet measured for a pair of shoes. The smith seemed to be much taken with me, and said I had the smallest feet of all the gentlemen donks he ever met. The remark so tickled my vanity that I nibbled at his coat tail, whereupon he turned to me and inquired, "What kind of a donkey are you? Chinese?"
"Not much," said I, indignantly, "My name is Irishy, and I always supposed I was a thoroughbred Irish ass, but I'm beginning to believe I'm a roamin' donkey, after all."
I could see that Pod expected trouble from some quarter, but none of us knew just where the lightning would strike. The next village, Luzerne, lay fifteen miles to the west. My lady companion did not carry herself too gracefully, nor her rider, either. She was broad and flat across the hips, and, as Coonskin did not possess a saddle, he found it more comfortable to sit far back on her where he could get a good swing of the fence rail he substituted for a whip.
We were ambling peacefully along the dusty road late in the afternoon, when Pod broke the silence with a word to his valet.
"Well, Coonskin," said he, "what 're you going to call your donkey?"
"Damfino," said Coonskin; and he added, with a drawl, "Git ap."
"You ought to have found a suitable name by this time."
"Ihavenamed her," emphasized the young man.
"Good!" shouted the Professor. "Let's have it then."
"Damfino," yelled Coonskin, with a wild swing of the fence rail.
Pod's face turned on its axis with a puzzled expression, as his eyes regarded the hopeful pioneer. Said he, "See here, young man, I know not whether my ears deceive me, or you are not up on my dialect; you say you have named the donkey, yet, when I ask the name, your answer implies a contradiction. Again, what is her name?"
Coonskin drew a long breath, and said loud enough to be heard a mile away, "Damfino."
As the fellow uttered the word, I dropped to the joke and, stopping in the road, brayed till my sides ached.
A new light now came into the Professor's eyes, and he smiled. "Damfino, then, is the lady's angelic name," said he resignedly. "It's odd, it's not inappropriate. Let it stand."
"Very well," returned Coonskin, "I will proceed with the ceremony." And letting the fence rail fall on his steed's rear quarter, he added, "In the name of the great and only Balaam, I christen thee Damfino." It was an interesting event. Thenceforth Cheese and I resolved to be more choice in our language and decorous in our manners in Miss Damfino's presence; and we lived up to our pledge two hours before Cheese called Don and the bull-terrier bad names for accidentally upsetting Miss Damfino with their yoke, and I kicked the tired and panting mongrel in the neighborhood of its pants.
TOC
BY PYE POD.
Thou hast describedA hot friend cooling.—Julius Cæsar.
Thou hast described
A hot friend cooling.
It was nine o'clock in the evening. While we were chatting with the landlord of the only tavern in Luzerne, a portly, smooth-looking individual entered the room. He was clad in a great fur ulster and top boots. After a familiar "hello" to the landlord, he eyed me searchingly, and added, "Your name is Pod, ain't it?"
I said, "I believe so; yours is what, don't it?"
Evidently not pleased with my expression, he instantly struck an attitude, or something equally hard, and announced, "I'm the sheriff of Borden County, and have come for a jack belonging to Mr. K——."
"Jack?" I interrogated; "boot-jack, apple-jack—"
"Just plain jack," interrupted the officer.
"Well," I replied, carelessly, "I have no jack belonging to Mr. K——, but I have the jenny he sold me for five dollars. Mr. K—— imposed upon me, and if he will refund the money, I will be only too glad to return his hundred-year old mule."
Here K—— himself entered. He stormed about, and said that I told only a section of the truth.
The sheriff gave his client a look, which quelled his ire for a moment, then, turning to me, said: "You talk reasonably enough, Mr. Pod, and doubtless mean right, but Mr. K—— has sworn out a warrant for your arrest; and if you don't want trouble and a double-jointed advertisement just turn over to K—— the jack he claims, and send your man back for the gray jenny."
It may not seem strange that I was converted to the officer's way of thinking.
"Take the donkey you claim," I said to K——, "you have the advantage of me. I haven't time to fight my case in the courts."
My black-bearded adversary now calmed his temper; his victory must have tasted sweet. I calculated the cost of the warrant and the sheriff's services to be at least ten dollars, since the officer had sacrificed angling for posse duty; although he was prevented from catching fish, there was a nice mess for me.
With reluctant equanimity the man who had wished to help me along explained that he had boasted of having acquired one of Pye Pod's noted donkeys, but when he found I had outwitted him, he swore vengeance.
On the other hand, the officer had conducted himself as a gentleman.
"Here, Coonskin," said the officer, "take this dollar and fetch us a pail of beer;" and, turning to me, added, "we must drown ill feeling amongst us, for when you come this way again, we'll show you how to catch fish."
By one o'clock next day Coonskin, weary, hungry, and morose, had managed to steer his slow "craft" into Luzerne and to moor it in front of the tavern barn. That closed the interesting event.
On our way to Tama City I was greeted by a member of assembly, who tendered me an invitation from the Mayor to dine with them that day. Lounging about the shop doors and strolling the streets, on our arrival in Tama, were many stately, still proud redskins, who, when they espied me with the wealth of canines collected on my way, shied off the scent for "fire-water" and dogged my trail to the hotel.
After dinner with the Mayor and Assemblyman, I escorted them to the stable to discover Mac A'Rony devouring a new hair-cushioned carriage seat. At once the Mayor wanted to buy that donkey outright, head and seat, for a round sum.
On expressing my intention to visit the Indian Reservation, some three miles away, his Honor gave me letters of introduction to the Indian Teacher and the Indian Instructor in agriculture. There lived the Sac and Fox tribe of the Musquaques. I was told that they were one of the most primitive tribes in the States, holding on to the primeval, and often evil, customs of feeding on dog soup, indulging in various kinds of dances, living in teepees, or wickey-ups, and wearing bears' teeth, eagles' claws, scalps, skins and moccasins. As you know, I had long hoped to be welcomed as their guest. I was tired and weary of the care of my dog pack, and wished to present it bodly, save Don, to the Chief.
About two o'clock we saddled and packed. When ready to start, a diminutive bicyclist, mud-bespattered and perspiring from a hot century run, he affirmed, wheeled up to the stable and, almost before catching his breath, introduced himself to me.
"My name is Barley Korker," said he, "de champion lightest-weight wheelman in de United States, weighin' jest sixty-eight pounds. I'm jest troo wid a trip from New York in one month and tirty-two days. My bicycle was giv me by de Cormorant Club of Phil'delfia. De Bourbon Club of Chowchow Wheelman of Pittsburg put up five hundred dollars 'gainst de wall dat I couldn't go all de way to San Francisco and git dere. On de way I hears of de great donkey traveler, Professor Pod, so I says, I'll jest catch up wid him, and mebbe he'll take me 'long wid him."
I at once made the little fellow a proposition, which he accepted; if he would wheel ahead of my caravan every day, carrying a small flagstaff with a streamer containing the words, "Official Courier to Pye Pod," I would, as long as he gave satisfaction, defray his traveling expenses. Barley was delighted. He forthwith purchased a piece of plum-colored silk and a bit of white silk for letters, needles and thread, and, having once been a tailor by trade, when we went into camp that night said that he would make a beautiful streamer, one I would be proud of. He promised to have it completed in a couple of days.
I had not more than finished my business with my courier, when a rustic-looking boy rode up on a white donkey, and called to me, "Want ter trade?"
"Not anxious," I returned, but showed no signs of a desire to flee.
"Trade with yer, if you give me five dollars to boot," said the enterprising lad.
I recalled how I had been swindled recently in a trade, and resolved to make a deal with that boy by hook or by crook.
"Do you suppose I would think of trading this thoroughbred Irish ass that has gone around the world for your common beast, just because mine is tired from fast and long traveling, and yours is fresh?" I saw I had made an impression; the lad dismounted, and examined Cheese IV, critically.
"I hain't no money to-day," said the boy, "but if you'll give me two dollars to boot I'll trade."
larger"I killed my first rattlesnake."
"I killed my first rattlesnake."
larger"That was the town."
"That was the town."
larger"Over the Platte . . . after blindfolding them."
"Over the Platte . . . after blindfolding them."
"What! do you want the earth?" I exclaimed. "Only before dinner I paid two dollars to have this donkey shod. I don't intend to pay two dollars more to shoe your animal."
The lad replied "All right," and galloped away, but had only gone a short distance when I hailed him. He came back without hesitation, and I then concluded a bargain. It was agreed that a blacksmith should take the new shoes off Cheese and put them on his donkey, and that I should pay him three dollars to boot. An hour later Cheese V was shod, bridled and saddled, and that afternoon became Coonskin's mount, Damfino carrying the principal portion of our luggage, and Mac A'Rony his master.
My party reached the Reservation in time for me to meet the Indian teacher before he left school, my courier having wheeled ahead to announce my coming.
I was greeted warmly when I presented the Mayor's letter, was shown some of the lodges of the tribe, and made acquainted with a few of the foremost braves of the camp. The teacher was an admirable interpreter, and the Indians grunted approvingly at meeting such a noted personage as Professor Pye Pod.
A fat old buck named Ne-tah-twy-tuck (old one), on being presented, extended me his hand, muttering, "How do?" His grip almost mashed my fingers.
"Much dog," he observed, eyeing my pack with doubtful admiration.
"Yes, too much," I replied; "I want to visit Me-tah-ah-qua, your great chief, and give him a heap of dogs." The Indian grinned majestically, while his teacher turned his head to control his risibles.
"Make pleasant?" the redskin grunted, and shook his head disapprovingly. "Me-tah-ah-qua say no dog good—old—make tough soup." And the brave pinched one of the mongrels, causing such a ky-eying that my interpreter feared it would put the whole camp on the war-path.
Presently an Indian boy notified the teacher that the chief had heard of Mr. Pod's arrival, and wished him to dine with him at his lodge. I accepted, and the boy departed; and soon afterward Coonskin and I were escorted to the chief's wigwam, taking my dog pack with me.
Me-tah-ah-qua met us with a grunt, rubbed my nose against his until it became lopsided, and likewise greeted Coonskin.
Then the chief waved us into the wigwam. He seated me on his right, and Coonskin on his left, while opposite to me he placed his disenchanting daughter of forty-five summers. Opposite the chief sat his first councilman, Muck-qua-push-e-too (young one), and at my right, at the entrance of the tent in full view of the host was seated our Government interpreter, seemingly much amused by the event. I lost no time in presenting my dogs to the chief, who in broken sentences, half Indian, half English, accepted the munificent gift in befitting words.
The spread consisted of a wolf skin, and on it rested a large flat stone on which to stand the kettle of soup when ready.
For some moments the chief regarded me searchingly, then said, "Me-tah-ah-qua wants—big donk man to live with him—and marry—his only daughter—Ne-nah-too-too. Me-tah-ah-qua will give—him a bow and a quiver of arrows—three seasoned pipes—five ponies—a new wicky-up—two red blankets—a deer skin—bag full of dogs' teeth—fifteen scalps taken by his father."
The chief left off abruptly, as if for my answer, but I shook my head thoughtfully, and the chief continued:
"If you—will marry my daughter (here the chief glanced at me, then let his eyes dwell fondly on that aged belle of forty-five summers), Me-tah-ah-qua will make—you chief of his tribe—before he goes to—the Happy Hunting Grounds. He will call—your first born Chicky-pow-wow-wake-up."
I was never more embarrassed, and eyed the damsel of forty-five summers, trying to persuade myself that she was beautiful and rich, and still shook my head. The old chief, seeing his inducements were not alluring, motioned to his councilman to pass the pipe of peace. After we had all taken a puff at it, the kettle of dog soup was set before us, and we all dipped in our ladles, the chief first, and began to eat.
When I first looked into that caldron of bouillon, I could see in my mind's eye, all kinds and conditions of dog staring at me, and almost fancied I could hear them barking. The soup wasn't bad, after all; it reminded me of Limburger cheese, in that it tasted better than it smelled. But Coonskin and I, and even our interpreter, ate sparingly (I use the word "ate," because there was so much meat in it). I learned from the teacher that the whole kettleful of soup was extracted from one small spaniel. "Dog gone!" I sighed.
The feast at an end, I thanked the chief for the honor conferred upon me, shook hands with his daughter, and departed. Barley Korker, Mac A'Rony and the rest of the party welcomed me with glee, and soon we were marching over the hill toward the house of the Indian farmer.
In front of a wigwam sat the chief's squaw, an old, wrinkled and parched woman of a hundred and five winters, weaving a flat mat; a little way off two Indian boys were filling pails with sand, making believe they were at Coney Island; and still beyond I saw two squaws carrying huge bundles of faggots for the wigwam fires, round which sat the lazy bucks, smoking.
A half-mile further on we met the Indian Farmer, and I presented my letter of introduction. He extended me a glad hand, and invited us all to supper, and on the way to his house, enlightened me about Indian farming, and the results of our Government's efforts to civilize the savage tribes. The Reservation contains 2,800 acres of woodland and arable soil.
After supper on bread and milk with the farmer, we travelers made our beds of hay and horse-blankets in the barn, and then followed the trail half way back to the Indian village, until we came to a house, where I discovered in the darkness its rustic incumbent leaning on the fence, smoking. There we lay down on the dry sod, lit our pipes, and listened for the first sound of the Indian drum beats which, the farmer told us, we would soon hear; that was the night for an Assembly dance, and the first drum beat was to assemble the tribe to its nocturnal orgie.
As I reclined on the grass in the starlight that mild May evening, my mind recalling the harrowing tales of the early settlers of the West, the first sound of the drum beat sent a thrill through my frame. I mentally counted the weapons comprising the arsenal in our belts; and even Don crept closer to me and rubbed his face against mine. After a few moments' interim the drum again beat, but for a longer period, sounding something like the army long-roll, only more weird. The farmer said this was the signal for the dance to begin, so we strolled leisurely down the hill trail through the woods to the grotesque scene.
A circular corral, fenced with three or four strands of wire, surrounded a pole driven slantingly in the ground, and from the pole was suspended a very bright lantern. Already within the enclosure could be seen the dusky forms of the Musquaques, some of them grouped in a sitting posture, crosslegged, in the center of the corral, beating a large shallow drum resting on the ground; while maneuvring fantastically about them were four agile reds, clad in loose-fitting, bright-colored robes, feathers, moccasins and sleighbells, dancing, and pow-wowing frightfully.
Finally we drew closer to the scene, and then an educated Indian, named Sam Lincoln, welcomed us into the enclosure. He said he was a graduate of the Carlisle Indian School of Pennsylvania, and greeted us in the true American style, but he still loved the primitive customs of his people. We sat on the ground against the fence, and occasionally one or another of the dancers would put a pinch of tobacco into the hand of Sam, seated next to me.
"What was that he just gave you?" I asked of the Indian.
"He give pleasant of tobacco," said Sam. "Show good feeling—Indian not steal—leave things around—Indian no take—Indian honest." By that sign of distributing tobacco among his fellows, the tamed savage promises fair play among his tribe.
The men alone danced. Before long, the squaws, one by one, came into the ring from various quarters with pappooses bound on their backs in shawls or robes, and squatted in a circle just behind the drummers. As the dancers became fatigued, I noticed that they would exchange places with the spectators, most of whom were in dancing rig. Sam Lincoln, after a time, excused himself politely and asked me to sit on his coat, reminding me should I leave before his return not to forget to leave the strap he loaned me to tie my dog to a post.
The weird proceedings were all too exciting for Don, and it was all I could do to prevent his making mince-meat out of the dancers and prowling squaws. The whoops and pow-wowing and yells were thrilling enough to frighten even a man "tenderfoot."
Toward midnight speech-making began. The drummers stopped beating the drum, and an old patriarch walked from the fence toward the center group, and stood behind the squaws a moment in silence. Presently he softly uttered something that sounded like a prayer, to which all the dusky auditors responded feelingly at the close in a monosyllable not unlike "Amen." Then the drum-beating and dancing was resumed, continuing some moments, to be followed by another prayer.
At last, a great pipe was put through a series of mysterious calisthenics, and passed around among the drummers.
At midnight the full, round moon rose above the wooded hills, and cast a broad, silvery sash across the ring, illuminating the weird and grotesque scene. Now a squaw entered with a large earthen jar and passed it around to all the Indians, the bucks first. I was ignorant of its contents, as it was not passed to me and my white comrades. Fatigued from travel, I finally rested my head on Don's warm body, and went to sleep; and it must have been near one o'clock when Coonskin awoke me. Then we three, accompanied by my dog, started for the barn to lay ourselves out for a few hours' repose. I shall never forget that night.
Sam Lincoln said that several members of the tribe, a few weeks previous, had gone to visit another branch of the tribe in Wisconsin, in the absence of which a "meeting dance" was held every fourth night, when the Indians appealed to the Great Father for their safe return. Sam told me that in all their various dances a different drum was beaten—there was one each respectively for the snake dance, ghost dance, wolf dance, buffalo dance, peace dance, war dance, meeting dance, etc. The drum for the meeting dance, Sam pronounced beautiful, and "much nice"—"seven dollars fifty cents worth of quarters on it—all silver on drum—fine drum—much cost." The Indians valued their drums, evidently, more than any other of their possessions.
We rested well that night in our haymow bed, although the rats kept the dog busy till morning, so Barley said; he was the only one of us three who failed to sleep soundly. We rose in good season, and traveled five miles to Mountour, Barley Korker wheeling on in advance to order breakfast. He proved himself a good financier on this, his first, mission as Pod's official courier, and pleasantly surprised me by having bargained for three twenty-five cent breakfasts for fifty cents.
Before reaching Marshalltown, we met with a terrific thunderstorm, and rode up to the hotel at six o'clock in a drenched condition.
TOC
BY MAC A'RONY.
What the devil was the good of a she-ass, if she couldn't carry a sleeping bag and a few necessities?—Stevenson.
What the devil was the good of a she-ass, if she couldn't carry a sleeping bag and a few necessities?—Stevenson.
Our sojourn in Marshalltown was brief. Before leaving, my master purchased cooking utensils, so that he would not be compelled to travel more than he ought to in a day to reach a town; now he could cook his own meals. After going into camp the first night, Pod fetched out the cooking tools, and having saved up a huge appetite, went to work to get a fine supper.
"Hello! Coonskin," said he, "what do you think? We've plenty of frying pans, but nothing to fry—never once thought of buying grub." And three more disappointed, famished individuals I never saw. But when to get even they ate double their usual breakfast next morning and were charged accordingly, Pod was enraged.
We trailed through State Center, Nevada, and Ames to Boone, arriving at midnight, May 22d; and continued on next day to Grand Junction, where a farmer invited the men to sleep in his kitchen. Instead of accepting, they shared with us donks the comforts of the barn, where, after a supper, cooked at a safe distance from the hay-stack, Pod received a delegation of gay young chaps from town. They brought all kinds of prohibition drinks and eatables; the popping of corks kept me awake until a late hour. And when I complained, all I got was an invoice of corn on the ear.
The Mayor of Jefferson, during our stop, presented Pod with a heavy shillalah that was intended as an ornament, but several times later, persuaded to do business. The Irishman, also, as a compliment to my ancestry, invited us all to dinner. After passing through Scranton and Glidden, two or three interesting incidents occurred on the road to Carroll. One night we were caught in a shower that seemed to settle down to business for the night. Coonskin thought he saw a barn in a meadow, so Pod sent him to investigate. He came back soon and said it was only a double corn-crib, built so a wagon could drive between, under a roof. All three thought it was just the thing; it was better than tramping through rain and mud. So we broke through the fence, and soon were unpacked and fed all the corn we could eat. The men made their bed in one of the big cribs of corn, the best they could with their scant blankets, and went to sleep. Pod told me that wasn't the first night he had spent in a crib. And I shouldn't wonder if that were so. I said I preferred corn on the ear to corn on the feet.
It was a funny sight before the men arose. There happened to be several holes in the inner wall, and the men had twisted and turned about so much during the night in their dreams and to get the ears comfortably filled into their backs, that it resulted in Pod's head sticking out of one hole, Coonskin's foot out of another, and Barley's seat plugging another. When Pod awoke, his head was red as a beet; he found his feet higher than his head, Damfino having pulled the corn out of the hole during the night. So much did we donks eat that, before starting on the day's journey, our stomachs ached and doubled us all up.
Then a ridiculous sort of runaway happened. A fat Irishwoman tried to drive a gentle horse past our party. The pet stuck up his ears and stopped a hundred feet away; Pod called to the courageous driver to wait, and that he would send his man to lead the horse past us. But the woman yelled back that she could manage her own horse; so she whipped him on. To the left was a marsh deep from the heavy rains; and the frightened horse made a dash through it, but he hadn't run far before he stuck knee-deep, right beside us. The horse snorted and plunged, and tried to get away, but it was no "go." He burst the traces, and the frantic driver hollered so that I almost "busted" too.
"Don't move your feet an inch, or you'll go over," Pod cautioned the woman, but she took it as a personal offense, and said her feet were all right.
"Help me and Oi'll pay yez!" she implored.
So Coonskin waded in and, tying the reins around the broken traces, led the horse on to dry land at a safe distance. Then he held out a hand for his pay.
"Phwat do yez want, ye poppinjay?" said the ingrate.
"You promised to pay me if I would help you," replied the valet, soberly.
"Ah, gwan, yez crazy loot!" she exclaimed. "Dishpose of thim hathenish jackasses, ond yez will have money ond th' rishpect of the community."
Coonskin was watersoaked up to his waist. But before he could get to a hotel to change his clothes, our little courier met us coming into town, and inquired, "Hev yuse been havin' a fallin' out wid de crazy mule?"
"Not by a blank sight," retorted the valet, in ill humor. He felt like scaring Barley, and he did. "Two women met us down the road a way driving a fractious horse—horse got frightened at donks—ran away—upset wagon—both women killed—expect sheriff and posse after us with shot guns. You weren't in the muss and are safe. Here's my mother's address."
To say the fellow was scared half to death doesn't express it. It was his business to gather information and pace our party out of every town on the best road to the next. On this occasion he took us out on the longest road to Carroll, saying he had paced us on that road to elude pursuit.
"Dey's method in my madness, Mr. Pod," said the excited fellow, leaping off his wheel, to better explain matters. "If de whole blamed country's after yuse, do yuse tink I was goin' to let yuse be catched if I could help it? We sticks togedder, we do, tru t'ick an' thin, an' when de sheriff t'inks he is chasin' yuse one way, we's chasin' ourselves de udder way, see?" And our courier looked heroic. Pod said he was grateful, and slyly winked to Coonskin, who turned his head and grinned.
At Carroll, Pod purchased some canvas for a sleeping-bag. He said he was tired of sleeping in barns and corn-cribs and such, and if he had a bed of his own, he would be independent. Barley sewed up the canvas for him, to save expense, and we left town with the patent bed.
Of course, the men were anxious to put the thing into service. About nine o'clock, the three crawled in and soon went to sleep. The bagful of humanity rested on the sloping roadside where the grass was thick, their heads being at the higher end, their feet at the lower.
We donks were up bright and early the next morning eating thistles, when, suddenly, I heard Miss Damfino giggling. She nodded toward the sleeping-bag, and I saw a funny sight. The seam at the foot of the bag had been ripped by the weight of the three bodies sliding down against it, and now six legs were sticking out clear up to the knees, the feet turned skyward in all directions. In a lumber wagon opposite, a farmer sat taking in the curious sight with a phiz that would make a monkey laugh. One couldn't tell who or what was in that bag, except for human legs. Miss Damfino was so convulsed with merriment she just lay down and rolled.
Now it happened that Cheese V was a droll wag, and chock full of innocent mischief, so as soon as his eyes lighted on that row of awkward-looking feet, he quietly strolled over to the sleeping-bag and commenced to lick the bare soles of those sensitive pedals. In a minute the peaceful bed looked as if hit by a cyclone. Such yells, I had never before heard. The men's heads were down so far in the bag that the terrified fellows didn't know which end to crawl out of first, so tried both ends at once; and, slap bang me! if that bag full of live things didn't begin rolling and hopping about the highway like a sackful of oats. One could have heard the hollaring a mile off. I laughed so hard I thought I'd die, and Cheese, Damfino and Don were weak from the strain of their risibles long afterward. The farmer almost rolled off the seat, but finally he pacified his excited horse, got down, and caught the animated bag before it jumped the fence, ripped it open, and pulled out the dazed men. For the life of me, I thought at one time the bag would reach the creek across the field, and drown the men. Cheese escaped detection for his practical joke, and I, from the way Pod leered at me all day, knew that I got all the blame.
TOC
BY PYE POD.