As the lake was approached by the party, the members of which had previously heard of its existence and the nature of its waters, no stop was made. A passage around it was sought and soon discovered in a well worn trail that followed a dry ravine which led down to the lake, and extending around its head, reentered the coulee some miles above. They continued their journey along this ravine, the route being marked at intervals by thebleached bones of animals which had perished of thirst within a short distance of abundance of cool dear water that a caprice of nature had rendered, like fools gold, alluring, but of no value.
For fifteen or twenty miles the road ran tortuously among the huge boulders that had fallen from the crest of the solid walls that arose hundreds of feet on either side, the crevices and nooks of which were the haunts of the rattlesnake and lizard. The projecting ledges that occasionally occurred showed signs of being the nesting place of hundreds of hawks that circled in an aimless manner at dizzy heights above this giant crevice. Limpid pools of alkaline water lay teeming beneath the blistering suns rays, their white salty rim unmarked by the footprints of any living thing, accursed by nature and abhorred by all God's creatures, wasting their contents by evaporation during the summer, and replenished by the torrents that rushed through this abandoned water course during the annual spring thaw.
That it had been a water course was evidenced by the beds of well worn gravel, devoid of all soil, and the marks of the constant wash of the waves on the face of the cliffs on either side. Who knows but what at some remote period the mighty Columbia river had flowed through this grand coulee, emptying into an inland sea, the bed of which now formed the desert of almost a million acres, destined to be the home of half as many people? Flowing thus for ages, nourishing plants now unknown; its limpid waters, cooling and refreshing the prehistoricmonsters that came daily to drink at its brink; sheltering beneath its rippling waves species of fish now extinct, their fossalized forms only remaining to remind us of the mighty changes that have taken place. Flowing peacefully on, secure in its mightiness, yet all the while somewhere along its course was being assembled the power that wrought this change, the terrific force in the nature of gases generated far in the depths of the earth. It might be thousands of miles away, conducted through unknown channels and crevices, seeking the point of least resistance, forced hither and thither by the ever increasing pressure, until a subterranean cavity is formed by a slight upheaval or displacement of the stratification. Into this rush the gases, followed by the raging fires, until further resistance is impossible. The imprisoned demon crouches in narrow confines, trapped at last; and with a mighty shudder, the effects of which are felt on the surface, causing the ponderous mastodon to halt unsteadily, and raising his gigantic head in alarm, sounds a note of warning, and followed by his herd, rushes madly through the mass of huge ferns in search of safety.
The imprisoned force, no longer able to confine its strength, furiously gathers its reenforcement, and with terrific, thunderous roar, forces the crust and breaks through, tearing asunder this sphere that has taken eons to form, disgorging in fiery torrents upon the surface of half a continent the contents of its seething cauldron.
Back rush the floods of the Columbia, as if aghast at the havoc wrought; stays its flow but for amoment, and charges this indomitable foe that dares to impede its progress, and pours its waters, now made black and muddy by the tons of ashes and stone sent hurtling into its waves, into the thousands of crevices and fissures trying in vain to throttle this fiery demon who greets the oncoming stream with flaming tongue, converts it into steam and additional power with which it throws out huge volumes of mud that seal the crevices and cool the lava about its glaring throat, thus using its enemy to erect a barrier against itself. Hopelessly defeated, the mighty river seeks a course whereby it may reach its former terminus, the inland sea. It wanders on with indefatigable persistence, taking the abandoned beds of some of its former tributaries; follows it until overtaking the original stream at some unaccustomed place, absorbs it and hurries on its way over boulders and through canyons and gorges, rapids and cataracts harrassing its waters in a manner heretofore unknown. In its wild flight it makes a detour of more than a hundred miles, appropriates the channel of another stream, and turns back toward the inland sea, still determined to do its part in replenishing this vast storage place.
Upon reaching its western boundary, oh! what a change had taken place. Stretching away as far as could be seen was a mass of oozing matter, decaying seaweed and pools of slimy water, heated to almost boiling, reeking with the stench of dead fish, the whole being sprinkled with cinders and ashes, and teeming with muck and filth.
A break in the southern boundary of the former body of water showed where a fissure had been opened up, through which its contents had drained, following the outlet until it had emptied into the Pacific Ocean. The noble Columbia, unable to gain access to refill the basin, took up the course of the liberated deluge and followed resignedly in its wake.
The third day out the harvesters reached the scene of action in the grain fields, and by noon of that day had found employment, the entire party being engaged for the season with promise of work for their horses. This was indeed an agreeable surprise. They had expected to remain in the same neighborhood, but to be employed together was more than they had hoped for.
The afternoon of the same day they drove to the home of their employer. Here the scene that greeted them was something of a disappointment to them, as the home of the wheat grower was but little better than their own desert shacks, save that it had one redeeming feature, an abundance of water. A well, surmounted by a large windmill, was located near the center of a large enclosure, and was the attraction for a number of horses and cattle. A few lazy hogs wallowed contentedly in the mud beneath the long watering trough, into which flowed, with fitful gushes, at each stroke of the slender pumprod, a stream of pure cold water, which was consumed by the waiting stock or allowed to overflow at will from the trough. The large barn, the dilapidated machine shed, and the typical home of the wheat grower was complete. No, not complete. There was yet another object. It was located in the further corner of the barn yard.It was an old wagon, with huge frame mounted upon it. This frame was covered with flimsy, dirty canvas, and had a stovepipe protruding from the top. From a door in the back, three narrow rickety steps reached down to the ground as if inviting one to enter, and at the same time daring them to take the chance. Off to one side was a pile of sagebrush, with a broken handled axe near by, and a barrel of stale water with a tin cup hung by a piece of wire over its chime, two tin basins laying upon the ground, while to a nail driven in the corner post of the canvas covered structure hung a piece of sack twine with a twisted aluminum comb dangling at its ends, and a dirty towel which the constant action of the wind kept from becoming rigid and stiff. This was the "cook house," where the toilers were to get their meals during the harvest.
With faint misgivings at the uninviting prospects the strangers, beholding the broad acres of grain now just turning to gold on the high ground, and gradually shading to a dark green in the swails and hollows, and extending over from one and a half to two or three sections of rich land, asked themselves why conditions were not better.
The men already engaged at harvesting on this wheat ranch not yet having come in from their day's work, our party cared for their horses and strolled about the place, wondering at the absence of signs of life, but being unfamiliar with such conditions, among the stalks of heavily headed grain that reached to their shoulders, and taking the plump, well filled heads in their hands, fondled them lovingly, and theirminds went back to their own desert homes, to their lonesome wives and children, and asked themselves if the time would ever come when their land would produce such a bounteous yield, and thought with proud satisfaction of how, in case of such an event, they would remain at home and enjoy the sweet sound of the harvest machinery as it garnered for them and theirs.
Wonderingly they waited for someone to come, some friendly voice to greet them, if not in profuse welcome, to at least tell them where they were to put their few effects and where they were to receive the accommodation that, being strangers, they had every reason to expect. They had brought their blankets, it was true, but it was with the view to using them while camping out. They little realized that, had they not brought them, they would have been provided with little more accommodation than a beast of burden.
The sun went down and they sauntered back to the barn yard, where they had left their wagon, and loitered around it with a fondness due the only familiar object in sight. Still no one came. From the grain field the clicking of the sickle as it mowed down the grain could be plainly heard, wafted from afar on the rapidly cooling twilight breeze. Travis Gully arose from his seat on the wagon pole as if moved by some uncontrollable impulse, and going around to the side of the wagon, threw back the rolls of blankets and drew forth the old canvas telescope grip. Taking it fondly in his rough hands, he knelt beside it on the ground, unloosened the straps, removed the tablet and envelopes, and taking from his overall pocket a stubof a pencil, resumed his seat and began to write, with a slow cramped movement, the first letter home. Slowly he poured out from his own burdened heart the cry of a distressed soul.
The remaining members of the party, realizing that this was to be the anxiously looked for first news, sent loving messages to their homes. No mention was made of the tiresome trip, of the forbidding aspect of their first employment; just a letter of encouragement, reassuring them of their success, and hopes for a profitable season and safe return. "Simple enough," you might say, but oh! what relief to the pent up feelings of those sturdy homebuilders.
Think, if you can, of what might have been written and read between the lines, of the anguish and uncertainty that was tugging at the heart strings of each of them, knowing, as they did, the conditions under which they had left their families; out alone on the desert, realizing that they, themselves, knew absolutely nothing of the duties they would be called upon to perform on the morrow, and tell me if you do not agree with me when I say that there, in the evening shades, under environments that would try the strength of the bravest, was not endured to the fullest extent, misery.
The letter was finished, and after placing it in the envelope, Gully sat with it in his hand and gazed thoughtfully at the address. The iron molder lit his pipe and moved off in the direction of the barn; the professor and the soldier arose and strolled to the well; all silent, lost in their own thoughts, the nature of which can only be guessed.
The sudden opening of a door at the main house aroused them from their reverie, and turning in the direction of the noise, they saw a woman come out and secure an armful of stovewood and reenter the building. In a few moments a dense smoke was emitted from the stovepipe, an indication that supper was being prepared. Darkness was fast obscuring the landscape, and from the distant field the conversation of the men returning from their work could be plainly heard, and mingling with it were the sounds of rattling chains and creaking harness. Upon their arrival at the barnyard, and while some of the horses were still drinking at the well, a man was seen to emerge from the house bearing a lighted lantern, and go to the barn, where other lanterns were lighted and carried about by the men.
Our friends went to the barn and upon making their presence known, were greeted with a tired "Howdy do" from the workers, as they unharnessed and distributed grain among their horses.
The owner of the wheat ranch, for it was he who had come from the house with a lighted lantern, came hurriedly up, and after pointing out a row of empty stalls, instructed the strangers to put their horses inside. This they gladly did, after which the lanterns were hung on pegs outside the barn and the workmen disappeared in the darkness. Our friends, hearing sounds at the well, went there and found several of the men stripped to their waists, washing the dust and perspiration in the trough and drying their faces on large red handkerchiefs with which they had mopped their faces during the heatof the day. As they completed their ablutions, they disappeared, until there was but one who, upon raising his streaming face from its immersion in the trough, inquired of our friends: "You fellows had supper." Upon being assured they had not, he advised them to "wash up, and come on down to the cook house," the location of which was easy, owing to the light which shone through the canvas cover, bringing out in bold relief the silhouette figures of several men seated at the table, with elbows in the air, working industriously, making way with generous portions of food, as was indicated by the shadows of dark objects before them.
Thoroughly tired and hungry, not being accustomed to waiting until this unseemly hour for their evening meal, they followed their new acquaintance and mounted the rickety stairs leading up to the entrance of the cook house. They were astonished at the arrangement of the interior; every available inch of space was taken up and made to serve some purpose. The forward end of the canvas structure was partitioned off and used for a kitchen—the rear portion, with a table running the full length, served as the dining room—while boards, fastened with hinges to either side, could be either raised or lowered, doing duty as seats. The sides of the structure was so arranged that the upper portion could be swung outward and propped, thus being converted into awnings and at the same time affording ventilation. Immediately over the table and drawn up to the top of the canvas canopy by means of a rope fastened to each corner, and runningthrough pulleys, was a woven wire bed spring. This could be lowered at night and was the sleeping place of "my lady," the cook, a haggard, sad-eyed individual, the widow of an unfortunate homesteader who, unable to endure the hardships of a pioneer, had gone to his reward the summer before.
When the first two members of our party had entered the cook house the rest were compelled to remain outside until some of those who had finished vacated, for when the table was filled those who went in first had to remain seated until the last one who entered had finished his meal.
The food was abundant and good, well cooked and served, when you take into consideration the difficulties under which it was prepared, and was eaten by the tired and overworked harvesters in a manner indicating a complete indifference to after effect. When supper was finished, there being no opportunity for gaining information, the hour being late, our friends returned to their wagon, unrolled their blankets, and lay down to ponder over this unheard of way of treating hired help. But not for long. Being fatigued to the limit of human endurance, they fell asleep, with the faint sound of the clatter of tin pans and cups that emanated from the cook house and the incessant rattle of the windmill dinning in their ears.
When morning came—not morning proper—but it was sometime after midnight, Travis Gully was awakened by the sound of someone cutting wood. Peering from beneath his blankets, he saw a lighted lantern at the cook house. Other lanterns were being carried to and fro among the horses in the barn. Sleepy individuals were crawling out from every conceivable place—from the hay mow and machine shed, carrying their inseparable blanket rolls. At the well men were busily pumping water by hand, the wind having died down during the night. Not being sufficiently awake to fully realize the meaning of this activity, Travis Gully stretched his tired limbs, rolled over, gave his blankets an extra tuck and drifted away in slumber. Not long, however, was he allowed to remain in this condition, for he was suddenly startled from his dreams by a gruff voice shouting: "Roll out, here, you fellows," and started to a sitting position, with tired sleepy eyes blinking in the bright glare of the lantern light, he beheld the boss standing over them, smiling amusedly at their bewildered looks. Their first day in the harvest field had begun, the first of many just such days that were to follow before they could return to their homes, and during the long winter evenings recount to the eager listening wife and children the varied experiences through which theyhad passed, embellishing each little incident with a tinge of humor that could not be appreciated at the time of its occurrence.
Dressing hurriedly, they went to the barn to care for their horses and found them munching contentedly at their morning feed, which had already been given them. Seeing the other men busily harnessing their teams they, without question, did likewise, resolving to be governed in their actions by the example of the older hands; they waited expectantly for each move. One of the men, more congenial than the others had proven, asked them how they had slept. Upon being told, he suggested that they bring their blankets into the hay mow where, he assured them, they would be more comfortable. This was the first intimation they had that they were not to be provided with a bed, but must choose their own resting place. They were soon to realize that the hours for rest were as scant as the accommodations for enjoying them, and adapted themselves to prevailing conditions. So after converting the watering trough into a lavatory for making their morning toilet, they proceeded with the rest of the men to the cook house for breakfast; after which, having no special duty assigned them, they were at a loss to know how to proceed. It being yet dark, they stood awkwardly around, while some of the men brought out their teams, watered them, and springing upon one of the horses rode back in the direction from which they had come the evening before.
They did not remain long in doubt, however, for the owner of the ranch came from the house and instructed them to follow the road over the hill, where they were heading grain, and to await his arrival, adding that their horses would be sent out later by one of the boys, who would drive them while on the job. This arrangement was a disappointment to Gully, who had hoped that he might be permitted to drive them, but he made no complaint, and they did as they were bidden.
When they arrived at the place indicated by the owner, they found the header with the horses hitched ready for starting. Three header boxes were awaiting the arrival of teams and drivers. A circle had been cut in a large area of ripe grain and a few loads piled in the center, indicating where the stack setting was to be made. The driver of the heading machine, or "header puncher," as he was called, was groping around in the uncertain light, oiling up or adjusting the drapers or elevator canvas.
In a few moments a wagon came from the house with a barrel of water, a few additional pitchforks, and some extra parts of machinery that might be needed in case of a breakdown. Our friends were assigned their respective duties; Gully was to be stacker, the molder as "spike pitch" or helper in the stack yard, the professor was "loader," and the soldier was given a pitchfork and sent to turn the grain in the "backswarth," a narrow strip cut around the entire field before the regular heading is begun. This is usually cut green and allowed to cure for hay. So with their horses being driven to a header box the siege had begun.
For five weeks, each day being identical, days of constant grind, short nights, and three trips to the cook house, days of blistering heat, the sunrays being intensified by concentration and reflection from the shining surface of the glistening straw. The light soil, mostly volcanic ash, being pounded and loosened by the constant tramping of the horses in their many trips to and from header to stack; lifted high at each turn of the "bullwheel" of the header and sent flying in stifling clouds, clogging the eyes, ears, nose and mouths of the workers, while trickling streams of perspiration from beneath their hatbands washed furrows through the accumulated mass on their faces.
The first week of this toil tried the spirit of our party almost to the breaking point. Night would find them bowed down with aching backs from the unaccustomed strain of pitching the heavy grain; hands numb and cramped, with blistered palms; throats dry and parched from the intense heat and dust from the straw. They would sink down upon their blankets in the hay mow and sleep the sleep of utter exhaustion, but the hopes of our homesteaders were being constantly revived by the receipt of encouraging letters from home.
Opportunities for getting these letters mailed were few, it was explained, but by sending them to the camp of the surveyors they were taken to the distant town and forwarded; and such news as they brought. "All are well at home. Do not worry; we are doing splendidly. Of course we miss you very much and want you with us, but when you do comehome, you can stay. Just think, a party of the surveyors were on our land today and have driven stakes showing exactly where the irrigation ditch is to run." Thus wrote Gully's wife, and others would tell of rumors of large land deals, whole sections and half of townships, being purchased by big companies, all to be immediately improved. Houses were being erected in every direction; parcels of land heretofore considered worthless were being filed on; a school house was being built and, really, things were beginning to be quite homelike.
Upon receipt of these cheerful missives the disappointment of the first season was for the time forgotten, and the men entered into their daily toil with cheerful hearts, filled with the anticipation of the realization of their dreams. Thus on through the ensuing threshing season up until the later fall, when it seemed that a snowfall might occur any day, did our sturdy homesteaders toil on until the last of the golden grain was sacked and hauled to a place of safety. Then only did they turn their faces homeward, with the indispensable blanket rolls, the old canvas telescope grip, now more dilapidated than ever, thrown at random in the wagon; with overalls out a knee, the frazzled threads of many colored patches indicating the earnest efforts of their wearers to make them last the season through; hats out at crown, and well worn shoes, they were indeed a travesty on the party who had left their homes only a few months before. But each sun tanned face was wreathed in smiles, for securely tucked away in those well worn overalls was a snug sum,their harvest wages, that insured them and their loved ones against want during the coming winter.
They were going to their "own homes." They did not have to move or worry about a new location for the following year; things were different now. This money they had earned, hard earned, it was true. Think of the many comforts it would buy—shoes for the little ones, and much provisions, and by judicious expenditure additions might be made to their homes. They could at least weatherboard them and make them more comfortable. Such were the thoughts and suggestions that filled the minds of these faithful home builders throughout the first day of their journey home.
I have often wondered, as no doubt many of my readers have, what there is in a man's nature that makes him blush and feel ashamed of doing a little act that is in every respect perfectly natural, and one, that if publicly known, would raise him in the estimation of his fellow men, and yet while condemning himself for his weakness, his heart actually throbs with the pleasure he derives from doing as he has done.
The first day on their return journey from the harvest field was a joyous one, the relaxation from the strain and the diversion acting as an elixir. Freed from the noise of clattering machinery out upon the highway, and relieved of the sight of miles of brown fields of stubble, our friends rejoiced at the sight of the desert with its thousands of acres of bunch grass and sagebrush that stretched far ahead of them to the foothills, there to be met by the dark green shade of the mountain pine and fir, above which shone in all its glittering splendor the eternal snow on the mountain peaks. They spoke in endearing terms of the mighty wilderness as theirs, as if little realizing that the small portion of that vast domain to which they actually held claim was insignificant.
They had chosen a different route by which to make their return, one that led them through asmall village situated at the edge of the desert. It was here that the last night out from home was spent, and here too was demonstrated the peculiar traits of man's character referred to at the opening of this chapter.
After the establishment of the camp for the night and after the team had been cared for, Travis Gully was noticeably restless, and at length wandered away from his companions and entered the village store. No thought of his own disheveled appearance entered his mind. It was of the dear wife and little ones he thought. The morrow would see him with them, and the long summer's watching and waiting would be at an end. What more natural than that he should wish to take some little token to the children and to her, who had borne the burden of the long summer's separation that they might retain their homestead?
He thought of her as he had last seen her, as she stood at the camp near the well, struggling to withhold the tears that he know too well had flown many times since he left. He recalled the pitiful effort she had made to dress for the occasion of his departure; of her brown dress, her best dress, the one that had been carefully made, stitch by stitch, in preparation for their long journey from their old home to the land of promise; how it had withstood the days of constant wear while she was cramped up in the tourist coach, being whirled away across the continent, and how guardedly she had spread the cloth upon her lap to protect the precious fabric from being soiled by the touch of many littlefingers made greasy by clutching the huge sandwiches of fried chicken, ham and cheese, with which the spacious hamper, their traveling companion, was bounteously provisioned; and how after their arrival, and while seeking a suitable location, it had been subjected to countless brushings and spongings, until at last it bore all too plainly the evidences of the hard usages to which it had been called up to submit. And yet, it was still her best.
She should have a new dress, one that he himself had bought, and without hesitating he approached the expectant merchant to make known his wants, and here his confusion was made evident. Never having made a purchase of this nature, he was at a loss as to quantity, quality and color. After numerous suggestions from the over-anxious merchant a selection was made, the required number of yards guessed at and measured off. Then after purchasing a small carton of animal crackers and some peanuts and candy for each of the children, he paid the amount of his purchase, and with his precious bundles tucked beneath his arm sought the camping place.
As he approached the camp fire around which his companions were seated, he was seized with a desire to hide his bundles lest they might jeer him good-naturedly about his extravagance. He tried to reach the wagon by a circuitous route to avoid observation until he had hidden his bundles. In this effort he was partially successful, but the others had seen him in time to arouse their suspicions, and they accused him of buying a new suit. To this he entered a strenuous denial, but looked guilty andfelt uncomfortable the remainder of the evening. He did not join in the conversation that followed his arrival, but sat, as the firelight died down, and watched across the barren waste for the first twinkling light that might give evidence that human beings inhabited this vast region of hidden possibilities.
Thus he sat long after the other members of the party had gone to bed, sat dreaming, as his watchful gaze centered on the darkened space made more dense by the rays of the fitful flicker of the dying fire, space that for the lack of distinguishable form might be likened unto a yawning cavern, a bottomless abyss, whose only known content was stygian darkness. Was it into the unsatiable maw of this monstrous dungeon by night and inferno by day that he had allowed himself and loved ones to be drawn; unwittingly, it was true, but as irrestistably as a disabled craft into the vortex of some mighty whirlpool, carried around and around the outer circle, fascinated by the charm of the smooth gliding movement. Suddenly the arc of the circle decreases, and looking further toward the center, other objects are seen, but it is noted that they seem to be moving more rapidly. Why this increased speed? Is the goal in sight, or has their proximity to the desired end given them a vantage view? Ah! they will keep speed with the large object just ahead of their craft; perhaps they can learn what motive drew them to this delightful place. But a moment, a pause, a quiver and a plunge downward; one mighty wail of despair, followed by a gurgling sound of gluttenous satisfaction, and they realize too latetheir fate. Casting a despairing look backward to warn those in sight not to follow, but on they come, heedless of their warning, offering themselves unconscious sacrifices to the ever increasing demand for new territory for new outlets, for the ever populated districts of the world.
It was the same old story. The pioneer fighting the first great fight, blazing the trail and marking the route with suffering, tears and even death, that future generations might follow at their ease.
Travis Gully wondered if he, as its helmsman, had allowed his craft to be drawn into dangerous waters, bearing with him his family, the precious passengers whose lives had been intrusted to his care. Had he, at the first narrowing of the circle, gone and left them in this vast wilderness. Was it justice? Were they safe? A few more hours would tell. And let the conditions in the future be what they may, he would never leave them again. With this resolve, and with a feeling of comfortable assurance that his leaving would not again become necessary he, with one more look to see that his bundles remained where he had hidden them, went to his rest.
Taking advantage of an early start, the following morning the party was well on its way when the sun shone above the jagged ridge of hills that marked the eastern boundary of the desert, shown as mellow and as soft as the spring sunshine in their old eastern homes. The lateness of the fall season had robbed it of its brassy glare and the cool wind that had swept over the valley during the night had driven out the quivering heat units with which the blistering sands had been surcharged.
The drive home was a pleasant one and good progress was made. Everyone was intent on locating at the very earliest possible moment the windmill, surrounded by its village of glistening white tents, that they were sure could be seen for miles. Numerous windmills were in sight far across the plain, but none that they could distinguish as the one marking their journey's end.
As they drew nearer to their homes, and after they had reentered the road over which they had made their outward trip, evidence of a changed condition was everywhere apparent. New houses, their unpainted outer wall reflecting the bright sunrays, could be seen for miles; hundreds of acres had been cleared of sagebrush, and small mounds of white ashes surrounded by charred ends of brush over which the reawakening bunch grass waved, showed where the bonfires had been made. In some instances many acres had been plowed and harrowed, made ready for the sowing of grain that would immediately follow the first of the winter's rains. This evidence of advancement gladdened the hearts of our worthy friends and speculation was rife among them as to the probable value of land under these changed conditions.
In their eagerness to reach their homes no stop was made for lunch. Water for their horses was obtained from a newly made cistern at the edge of a large area of newly plowed land. Evidence of a recently abandoned camp was near at hand, but no sign of life. The journey was resumed after watering the horses and in a short while familiar objectscould be pointed out, and in some instances their individual homes could be located. There was the old windmill, its weather stained wheel and vane contrasting strangely with other windmills that glittered with their newness on adjoining sections, the old landmark that had withstood the onslaught of the terrific wind and sand storms for years, warped by the intense heat of the blistering desert sun, drawing with tireless energy the cool sparkling water from the depths of the well over which it stood guard, and beckoning to the chance wayfarer to come and partake of its refreshing draughts. Thus it had stood, known as "The Windmill," the friend of every stockman, homesteader, land owner or wandering Indian that chanced its way since the day, many years ago, a progressive sheep man, seeing the value to his herds of this extensive grazing ground, had caused to be hauled for many miles, across mountain, stream and plain, the machinery for its erection, for the establishment of this oasis in the desert. Unconscious of the fact that he was erecting a monument to himself and a source of comfort and blessings to hundreds of human being for many years to follow.
Upon their arrival at the windmill they were disappointed to find that the tents were gone; the party of surveyors had left the field. The only remaining evidence of their having been there was an occasional white stake driven into a mound of earth, marking a corner, or an iron pipe with a brass cap on which was recorded the elevation above sea level. The busy groups of men, the hurrying camp wagons and packtrains, were missing, so the anxiously awaited information as to the probability of irrigation in the near future was not to be gotten.
The families of the homesteaders having been informed of the day and time of their probable arrival, had assembled at the well to greet them. Travis Gully's wife and three of his children were there. Being unable to find the horses that had gotten loose upon the range, they had walked the three miles to the well to meet him. Ida, the eldest girl, had remained at home to care for the youngest child, who was too small to take the trip.
Here, at the same place where they had assembled a few months before, they separated and went to their several homes. A neighbor whose horses had been taken on the trip to the harvest field assisted Gully and his family to reach their home. As they approached the house the children who had been left at home came running out to greet them with joyous shouts of welcome.
Thanking his friend for the ride, Gully threw his blanket roll from the wagon and sprang down, seized his boy in his arms, lifted him high on his shoulder and marched triumphantly into the house. His wife having taken possession of the canvas grip, and with the rest of the children eagerly crowding around, they followed him. A shaggy tramp dog who had come unbidden, a self constituted guardian of his family during his absence, came from beneath the kitchen table, sniffed suspiciously at Gully's overalls, and scenting no evidence of danger, wagged his tail in approval and returned to complete hisnap. The three chickens of which Joe was the proud owner, feeling that some event of importance was taking place, crowded noisily around the door.
All these little incidents were unnoticed by the tired father who, now being seated, was in a fair way of being smothered by the demonstrations of his devoted children. Boisterously they crowded around and over him, plying him with a constant volley of questions and recitals of happenings during his absence. The mother, forgetting for the time the long months of anxious waiting, beamed with satisfaction on this happy scene. Curiosity to know the contents of the canvas grip soon aroused the children, and after Gully had emerged from the mass of clinging arms and tangled locks, he directed Joe to bring the grip to him.
Upon receiving the grip, and with his children seated around him on the bare floor, with eager and expectant faces, he opened it, and as he handed each their little bundle they scampered away to investigate its contents. He handed his wife the package he had brought for her and asked if she could guess its contents? After several attempts to do so, all of which ended in failure, she opened it, and realizing at a glance the nature of his gift, she was speechless with pleasure, and with her eyes filled with tears, she threw her arms about his neck and laughed with girlish glee. For the first time in the course of their married life Minnie Gully had a glimpse of her husband's heart.
It was a happy family that gathered around the supper table that evening. After the meal waseaten and the dishes removed the smaller children brought their boxes of crackers, cut in grotesque forms of various animals, and arranged them in rows to correspond with their idea of a circus parade, of which they had once seen a picture. The mother and two eldest girls unrolled the goods for the dress, and holding it to the light, admired its beauty and discussed how it had best be made. Gully sat silently smoking his pipe, enjoying for the first time a feeling of absolute independence. He was in his own house, on his own land, with funds to provide for the winter, and being undismayed by the failure of his first effort on his homestead to raise a crop, dreamed peacefully of the future.
Late into the night, long after the excited children had gone to sleep, Gully and his wife sat and planned for the expenditure of the sum he had earned during the harvest season. They talked of the many requirements of the children, of the supply of provisions that would be necessary to do their family until spring. Feed had to be purchased for the two horses with which it had been necessary for him to provide himself when he came upon the homestead. If the snowfall was light the amount of feed required would be correspondingly small, but should the snow become sufficiently deep to hide the bunch grass it would be necessary to feed the whole winter through. Thus they planned, making numberless lists of necessary purchases, and after comparing the amount required with the funds on hand, revised and readjusted the list until finally giving up, bewildered but happy, they went to their rest.
Travis Gully having acquired the habit of early rising during his sojourn among the harvesters, was awake the following morning before the rest of the family was astir. He lay for a short time drowsing and enjoying the unaccustomed rest, but being unable to content himself, arose, and after dressing stepped outside in the crisp morning air. Daylight was just appearing over the brow of the hills to the east, a narrow thread of silver light with a faint tinge of rosy dawn. The deep shades of night, disappearing behind the peaks of the Cascade mountains to the west, cast their purple hues over the snow covered expanse at their summit, faded away and were lost amid the gloomy blackness of the heavily timbered gorges that cut deeply down their sides to the Columbia river.
Lighting his pipe, Gully strolled out near the cistern, where, seated upon an upturned barrel, he breathed with exhilerating delight the morning air and tried, in fancy, to picture to himself what the reclamation of the thousands of acres that lay before him would mean. He could see miles of just such grain as he had been helping to harvest, and long avenues of fruit trees, extending across the clearing he had made the spring before; trees like those he had seen growing in the orchards at Wenatchee, where he had made his first stop. The little strip of land that lay between his present humble home andthe dusty road, then no longer dusty, but a glistening well kept highway extending away in the distance until lost to view by its ever decreasing narrowness; this little strip of land would be a waving mass of luxuriant alfalfa through which would wander his cows, horses and pigs.
His flights of imagination suggested to his mind a number of comfortable cottages in close proximity to his own then pretentious home, in which were domiciled each of his children. They should have homes of their own.
Travis Gully sat dreaming his delightful dreams of the future, when he was suddenly brought back to a realization of his surroundings by a hot breath, immediately followed by a cold, damp muzzle being thrust against his hand. Starting suddenly at this rude awakening, he frightened away the faithful old dog who, having discovered his presence, had approached to make his acquaintance. Appreciating the situation at a glance, Gully spoke kindly to the dog, calling him back; he patted him on the head and laughed good naturedly at his shaggy, woe begone appearance, and promised him better times for the future than he had evidently been accustomed to in the past.
It was now day, and the smoke was coming from the stoves within the homes of some of his neighbors. Upon noting this fact, he went inside the house, and after kindling a fire in his own kitchen stove, called to his wife, who having been awakened by his movements, immediately came out and joined him in the kitchen door, where they together watched the rising sun shed its splendor over the scene.
The delight of having their father with them once more clung to the family throughout the day. His every movement was followed by the joyous band of happy children. They led him to the point where the surveyors had set their instruments on their land and showed him the little stakes upon which the plumb bob had been centered, and which they had carefully preserved, telling him it was there the water was to flow. They told him of the many little kindnesses bestowed upon them by these good men who were to provide them with the much needed water, of how they had carried their letters to and from the distant post office, and had distributed pennies among the smaller children.
Thus the constant chatter flowed, each little incident doing its part to reconstruct the tower of hope that was being built, and in which Travis Gully and his family were to fortify themselves during the coming long winter months. The remaining few days of pretty weather could not be wasted in idleness. The trip to the distant town for supplies must be made; the cistern must be refilled, and more ground gotten ready for seeding before the frost came. All this Gully realized, and with hopes and aspirations at their highest point, he was eager to begin activities.
The horses that had been astray for several days returned for water and were taken up and held in readiness for daily use. The second day after Gully's return being Friday, it was decided by he and his wife that the trip to the town should be made first, as the supplies were running short. They were to go the following morning, and as it was to be a gala day the whole family was going.
At this announcement the children danced with glee, as they had not been further from home than the well since they came the March before, and little realizing how tiresome the long trip across the desert would be, they anxiously awaited the arrival of the time to start. Everything was gotten ready that evening in preparation for the trip, Gully knowing that the going and coming over the long sandy roads would consume most of the day. It would require an early start to allow time for their trading.
Sunrise the following morning found them well on their road to the town, which could be seen in the distance, although many miles away, and as the morning hours passed the enthusiasm of the children gradually exhausted itself, and the last few miles of the trip were made in almost complete silence, broken only by the monotonous squeaking of the harness and rattle of the wagon, the box of which was a home made affair, almost completely wrecked by the strain of being overloaded with barrels of water, but which had been wired together with bale wire in order that the boards extending from side to side would sustain the weight of those seated upon them.
When they reached the town, which consisted of a few residences, a railroad station and some half dozen stores, Gully drove to a vacant lot a short distance from the main street, where a number of wagons were already standing, with horses contentedly eating hay while their owners were transacting their business.
After assisting his wife and children to alight he unhitched his team, and then making them fast to the wheels, that they might eat, returned to where his family had assembled and assisted them to brush from their clothing the accumulation of sand and volcanic ash that had transformed them into gray figures that blended with the buildings, fences and sagebrush with which they were surrounded, all gray, the eternal gray of the desert.
Had those of their friends who had known Travis Gully and his family in their old home met them in their present condition, it is doubtful if the most intimate among them would have been able to recognize them. The changes that had taken place were in some respects advantageous. Minnie Gully was no longer the tired, care worn mother of the year before. She had thrown off that spirit of lassitude that marks so unmistakably the drudge, the farmer's wife. That she had health was evidenced by the tinge of color that shone through the coat of tan produced by the desert wind and sun, and also by her buoyant step and actions. The children had grown hardy and rugged by their unrestrained freedom in the wilderness, and while showing a disposition to be more timid, were as yet unspoiled by their isolation.
It was in Travis Gully that the change was most noticeable. He was no longer the disinterested slave, the irresponsible renter with no higher ambition than to grow an abundant crop for his landlord, that he might be allowed to remain on the premises another year and thereby avoid the exertion of aforced move. His summer spent in the harvest field had netted him other than financial returns. It had developed in him a firmer resolve to own a home of his own, and hardened his muscles for the fray. His bearing was more independent, and the fire of a newborn ambition shone in his eyes.
He was now the aggressor, and had dropped the role of a passive follower. It was his first awakening, and never having been compelled to feel the sting of defeat, was as yet undaunted. Thus it may be seen that while the first year's planting on the homestead was a failure the venture, as a whole, had its element of success.
The next few hours of their stay in the village was devoted to shopping, and were filled with many incidents both amusing and trying. The constant care of the children as they tugged at their mother's skirts, calling her attention to various articles that caught their wondering eyes, the trying on of shoes and selection of ginghams and calicoes, with one ever present thought, that the purchases must be confined to a certain amount, made the task a tiresome and nerve racking one. At last it was finished, and when Travis Gully, who had gone for his team, drove up to the store and loaded on his purchases, it was a tired and hungry family that climbed into the wagon and took their places among the many bundles and boxes with which it was piled and turned their faces homeward, to drive back over the same dusty road; to listen for hours to the rattle of the particles of sand as they were lifted high by the revolving wheels and then allowed to dropupon the paper wrapped bundles with which the bottom of the wagon was strewn; to listen to the continuous crackling of the dry sagebrush as the wheels passed over it, pressing it deep into the yielding sand, and which sprang back into position after the vehicle had passed and awaited, with a patience born of years of solitude upon the desert, for the next onslaught, continuing this torture until ground to powder and mixed with the sand that had lashed it for years. Take, if you will, a pinch of sand from the sage covered desert, and seek out from its many particles the tiny atoms of sagebrush and examine them. They are all the same misshapen, dwarfed and gray.
It was far into the night before the Gully's reached their home and were greeted by the faithful old dog who had remained behind, but little notice was taken of his demonstration of welcome, so after he had assured himself that all were present, and had tugged at the blanket in which little Joe was brought, sleeping soundly, into the house, he retired to his place under the kitchen table. Gully lost no time, after caring for his horses and seeing that his purchases were safe for the night, in going to his rest, conscious of the fact that an eventful day in his life had passed.
It now being late in November, Gully knew that but a short time could be expected before the first winter snow would come, and he had learned that it sometimes came in such quantities as to drift in the roads and make it very difficult to travel, and not caring to be caught unprepared in such an event,left the following Monday in search of a place where feed for his horses might be purchased. Accompanied by one of his neighbors, he went back into the hills, and there they purchased a sufficient amount to do them both. The roads being very sandy and the distance great, it required several days with both their teams to haul the hay to their claims. After this was accomplished and the winter's supply of wood procured, the rest of the time before the snow fell was devoted to clearing land in preparation for plowing the following spring.
At last, upon awakening one morning Travis Gully found that the long looked for snow had arrived, several inches having fallen during the night, and it was still snowing quite hard. He looked out across the level plain, and thought he had never seen a more beautiful sight. Not a breath of air was stirring, and the huge flakes were coming down in myriads, falling on the high tufts of bunch grass and remaining where they had fallen. The unsightly sagebrush was transformed into every conceivable shape, and its stubby, unyielding branches bedecked with soft, fleecy snow that completely hid their identity and brought their grotesque forms out in cameo like relief. The changed color and altered conditions from its former sameness gave the landscape a weird, ghastly appearance.
Gully stood fascinated by the dazzling whiteness, and wondered in a vague, uncertain way why, if such a change was possible in so short a time by a simple variation in climatic conditions, would it not be possible to make the change permanent andproductive of some good. Why not change from the torturing dull gray to green and then a golden hue, to be followed by the spotless mantle of white? Was it within the power of man, with his advanced ideas and modern methods, to bring about such a transformation? If so, would the change be permanent? That they had in some instances, and over small areas, accomplished this feat it was true, but it was noticeable in every instance of this kind new complications had arisen to test their ingenuity, new difficulties were constantly arising for mankind to combat.
Could it be possible that Dame Nature in her magnanimity in giving the greater portion of the earth had reserved these few, isolated places for the gratification of her whims, for reconstruction by her hand alone, to be handed down in ages yet to come to a different, better and wiser race. If it was possible for this once inland sea to be transformed into a blistering barren waste, why would it not be equally possible for this same power to tear down and remove the barriers that now arise between this desert and its natural source of water supply, the mountains that so change the currents of air and rend asunder the vaporous clouds, and thereby render condensation impossible. What right had man to dictate the conditions that shall obtain in certain localities, and would nature concede their demands?
To Travis Gully the possibilities of irrigation were unknown. He had never seen its results, except on the one occasion when he had stopped fora few days in the little city, surrounded by its extensive orchards, that had marked the end of his journey in quest of a home. That similar conditions as those he was now called upon to combat once existed in that now fertile valley he well knew, and the scenes of beautiful homes surrounded by miles and miles of orchards, with occasional patches of green alfalfa, was so indelibly impressed on his mind that they were constantly recurring to his memory, and were easily within the bounds of possibility as applicable to the locality in which he had chosen to cast his lot. Would the change be made, would he and his neighbors be given an opportunity to demonstrate to the world, the results of intelligent handling of these greatest productive agents, water, sunshine and soil?
He was sure they would. The coming of the Geological Surveyors was proof that the authorities were at last going to reclaim this arid district and bring it into a state of productiveness. That they had left the vicinity of where he lived was true, but he had learned that they had established a new camp farther into the desert, where their work was to be continued, and as soon as the result of their investigation as to the feasibility of the plan had been reported to the Department of the Interior at Washington, D. C., actual work would start, and he would soon see the realization of his dream, "A home of his own."
The first snow was of short duration, although the fall was heavy. The sun shone brightly before the end of the week and as it melted the moisture was hastily consumed by the thirsty sands. The days that followed the disappearance of the snow were ideal. No clouds of dust arose to obscure the vision, and the quivering, dancing mirage that had transformed the desert into a veritable fairy land appeared regularly each morning and lingered, as if loath to deprive the desert dwellers of the pleasure of its hypnotic influence, until compelled to retreat before the advancing army of glinting sunbeams.
The invincible bunch grass, aroused from its lethargy by the magic touch of moisture, sent forth from its withered roots tender shoots of green that peeped shyly from the mass of sun parched stalks that, unable to withstand the summer's heat, had fallen helplessly back, thus forming a shield for their parent turf.
These days of sunshine were taken advantage of by Travis Gully and his family, and rapid progress was made in clearing the land. With the coming of the shades of evening his place, like those of hundreds of others, was aglow with bonfires, the pyre of the burning sagebrush that sizzled, crackled and fried as the blazing torch was applied, and when the last faint glow of the remaining embers haddied out and only ashes were left, they could still feel the penetrating leer of the ghastly gray that would not down.
As the winter approached every possible preparation was made for the months of enforced idleness, and when it finally came the family, who had never acquired the habit of reading, and were lacking in other forms of amusement, the time hung heavily on their hands. The letters that came from their old home at irregular intervals were anxiously awaited, and upon receipt of them a sense of homesickness seemed to overcome the family. Little incidents were recounted that recalled scenes and recollections that during the busy season would have been lightly passed and soon forgotten.
They had never met any of their former friends since coming to the northwest, but had learned that the Gowells and Moodys had settled somewhere in Montana, and word had been received from the Lane boys, who had taken up a homestead in Washington, but the address given was a remote point from the Gullys. The letters stated that those mentioned were all doing well and were satisfied with the change. Not a word of complaint had ever been written by Travis Gully or the members of his family. They had failed the first year, but it was probably due to unusual conditions, they thought, so they made no mention of the fact.
They had written home at regular intervals, stating that all were well, the happy, healthy growth of the children was noted, and an amusing description of their home, and experience in building thecistern and hauling water with which to fill it, was faithfully chronicled. An account of the trip to the harvest field was written, telling of the enormous yield and the methods used in saving the grain, also of how a sufficient amount was earned to meet the winter's requirements, but never a word of the heart breaking failure of their first planting nor of the tortures endured in the grain fields, feeling that the possibilities of a reoccurrence of these unfortunate conditions was remote. They looked only to a more successful future.
The little district school house, the erection of which had been started early in the fall, was now complete, but no teacher could be found who was willing to come into the wilderness to teach the few children of which the district boasted. The neighborhood finally by common consent organized what they called a "Literary Society," and a Sunday School. The society met twice a month, and these meetings were looked forward to as events of great importance, the program usually consisting of debates by the older members and recitations, dialogues and songs by the children of the community. The Sunday School met weekly, and the homesteaders came with their families for distances of from ten to fifteen miles to be in attendance.
As the holiday season approached; arrangements were made for a neighborhood Christmas tree, contributions were taken up at a meeting of the society, and a committee of arrangements appointed to take charge of the affair. Someone being the fortunate possessor of a catalogue from an eastern mail order house, it was brought into requisition and a selection of decorations and trinkets for the tree was made and the order for their shipment forwarded. A census of the community was taken and no one forgotten.