CHAPTER VI
"The Mississippi at last, Mark!"
"THE MISSISSIPPI AT LAST!" UTTERED BOB.
"THE MISSISSIPPI AT LAST!" UTTERED BOB.
"THE MISSISSIPPI AT LAST!" UTTERED BOB.
It was Bob who uttered the cry, late one afternoon, some time after the events recorded in the last chapter. He was standing in the front of the scow, shading his eyes with his hand.
"It's a pretty big stream of water," answered Mark, gazing forward curiously. He drew a long breath. "Bob, about one-third of our journey to California is finished!"
"Right you are, Mark. But I'm afraid we have the toughest part of the trip still before us."
"Do you regret starting?"
"Not in the least, and you couldn't hire me to turn back," was the quick response.
"Are you going to stop at Cairo?"
"Don't you think we had better cross the river instead?"
"No, for we can't sail the scow against such a strong current. We had better stick to our original intention and sell the craft, and then take a steamboat from Cairo to some place up the Missouri."
During the past few days the boys had learned that Independence, Missouri, located not many miles from Kansas City, was one of the places at which thousands of emigrants for the West were gathering, with their wagons and their horses and cattle. It was still early in the year and the pioneers were waiting for the grass to grow, so that they might have fodder for their animals during the long and tedious journey overland.
"They say it will take at least three months to get across the Rocky Mountains and into California," said Mark.
"Yes, and it may take longer—so I heard one man say," returned Bob. "He said nobody would dare to try getting over the mountains after the snow began to fall. If we can't get over by the first of November, we'll have to stay on this side until next spring."
"We'll have to get a regular outfit,—or else join some company going over."
"I'd rather have my own outfit."
"Oh, so would I."
That night they landed near Cairo—which was only a small place in those days. They offered the scow to a number of boatmen and finally disposed of the craft in a most unusual manner.
"See heah," said a man from Alabama, who sat on a mule, chewing a quid of tobacco. "If you're out fer a trade—I'm with yer. I allowed I was gwine to Californy on th' back o' this mule. But I've changed my mind an' I'm gwine home. If ye want to swap the scow fer the mule speak up; an' if ye don't, hold yer peace. Washington Gossnacker has spoken."
"Let's take him up," whispered Mark. "The mule may come in handy."
"What will you give to boot?" asked Bob, cautiously.
"Th' harness an' the saddle an' not a cent's wuth moah, sonny. Is it a go?"
"Yes," answered Bob.
"Co-rect, neighbor—the mule is yours. Don't never git behind him, onless ye want to go to heav'n by th' direct route," added the man from Alabama.
"Which means that he can kick," said Mark, in dismay.
"Wall, I reckon he wouldn't be a mule ef he couldn't do thet same," responded Washington Gossnacker.
The transfer was made on the spot, and while the man from Alabama took possession of the scow, Bob swung himself up on the mule's back. As quick as a flash the animal swerved around, began to kick, and then set off at a break-neck speed up the street.
"Whoa!" yelled Bob, holding tight to the reins. "Whoa, you skyrocket; whoa, I say!"
"Look out that he don't throw you!" screamed Mark, and he started after his chum, and several in the crowd followed. Up the street went the mule, with Bob clinging desperately to the saddle. Then the boy gave the reins a strong pull and spoke gently to the animal, and soon the mule came to a stop.
"Better get down," suggested Mark, as he came up.
"No, sir, I'm going to show Mr. Mule that I am his new master," returned Bob, and he made the mule run once more, stopping and starting him half a dozen times. At last the mule was worn out and under perfect control, and then Bob patted him gently and gave him something to eat.
"Do you think it was a bad trade?" asked Mark. He could not help grinning, now the danger was past.
"No, I don't—for the old scow was beginning to leak!" answered Bob, and then both boys laughed outright.
"Now we've got a mule, what we shall need next is a wagon," went on Mark, a moment later. "Then some provisions, and ho! for the wild West and gold!"
Finding a suitable hotel, they remained there over night and had the mule cared for. Mark named the animal Darling, and Darling he remained for the rest of the wonderful trip. Taken all in all he was not a bad mule, although inclined at times to be tricky.
By consulting the hotel clerk they learned that they could obtain passage on a steamboat bound up the Missouri River, and also transportation for the mule, and left Cairo that noon, on thePride of the River, a steamboat that had seen better days.
"What a crowd of passengers!" remarked Bob. "Wonder if they are all bound for the gold fields?"
"Likely not," replied Mark. "Some are settlers and planters, and others are just plain business men."
"And some are gamblers," added the sailor boy. And he was right, for gambling flourished vigorously in those days on all the boats of the Mississippi and the Missouri. The game went on day and night, and many a fortune was lost. The great majority of the gamblers were tricksters, and sometimes, when one was caught at his tricks, he was shot or run off the boat.
"What a life to lead!" said Bob. "I can tell you, no gambling for me!"
"Nor for me," answered Mark. "The fellow who gambles deserves to lose; and I guess he generally does, too, unless he's a sharp."
With it all, the boys found the journey up the Mississippi and up the Missouri very interesting. They sat near the bow of the boat,—out of the way of the thick black smoke from the stack—and watched the scenery along the shores. In those days the settlements were nearly all small, and much of the great forests which have since been cut down was standing.
A stop of half an hour was made at St. Louis and the boys had a glimpse of that old French town.
"Some day I fancy this will be a big city," observed Mark.
"Oh, the whole West and Middle West will fill up some day," said Bob. "Uncle Sam's children must go somewhere, and the population is increasing wonderfully."
As soon as thePride of the Riverturned into the Missouri they observed the change in the water. Where it had been fairly clear before it was now dark and muddy.
"The mud comes from the banks," said Mark. "They tell me they are washing away continually, so that a fellow may have a big farm on the riverside one day and have about nothing the next!"
The boys had decided to leave the steamboat at a small place known as Brosberry's Landing—somebody having told them that it was a great starting place for gold seekers, being but a few miles from Independence. As soon as the boat tied up they went ashore, Bob leading the mule and Mark carrying his valise and his chum's bundle. A dozen men, of various ages, went with them.
"Here's a new lot of gold hunters!" came the cry, from the dock.
"Two boys an' a mule!" sang out a man who had spotted our young friends. "Goin' to Californy?"
"You bet!" responded Bob, using a common expression of those days.
"Hands up on me!" answered the man, with a grin. "Hope ye win out!"
The boys soon discovered that Brosberry's Landing consisted of nothing more than a general store, two gambling halls, and a motley collection of shanties and tents, the latter used by men bound for the West.
"I must say, I don't like it much here," was Mark's comment, after a walk around. "Let us move towards Independence. Old man Spat said he was going over."
"Then let us follow Spat."
They had struck up an acquaintance with Ira Spat on the steamboat. He was from Maine, tall, thin, and leathery, having spent much of his time as a lumberman on the Penobscot. He was rough but good-hearted, and the boys liked him.
"This air spot don't suit me wuth shucks," said Ira Spat. "I'm a-goin' to find somethin' better," and he started for Independence on foot, with a stick and a big carpetbag over his shoulder. The boys followed, taking turns at riding Darling, who seemed to enjoy being onterra firmaonce more.
It was not long before they came upon a flat stretch of prairie land, with an occasional patch of timber and a small stream. Here and there folks were camping out, and as they advanced the encampments became thicker, until the scene was a decidedly animated one.
"There must be thousands of folks here!" exclaimed Mark. "And all bound for California, too! Bob, we shan't lack for company!"
Some of the gold hunters had little or nothing, while others had nearly the whole of their household goods. Wagons and carts were numerous and so were horses, mules, and cows. Many of the emigrants—for they were nothing else—had their families with them, resolute-looking wives and children of all sizes and dispositions. One man had three old-maid daughters with him, while in another gathering there was a baby but four months old.
"That youngster is going to hunt gold early," said Bob, after meeting the woman with the baby. The infant was the talk of the camp, and every woman there wanted to hold it and pet it.
After a long look around, Mark and Bob decided to pitch their camp near a brook and a short distance away from the others in that vicinity. At the general store they had purchased a small but good tent and this they erected, and then cut a ditch around it, that the rain might run off.
"Now we can stay here until we are ready to begin the long trip overland," said Bob; and so it was settled.