Lancaster looked at the interlocutor in surprise, and then repeated.
“As far up as this! Ten years ago I seed a party of over twenty Comanches along the Yellowstone, a thousand miles from here, and I’ve seen hundreds of ’em ’atween here and there.”
“I thought they rarely came so far north. I have never seen any of them till yesterday.”
The hunter laughed as he answered.
“There’s no need of your taking the trouble to tell us that;Inever ’sposed you have. True, the most of ’em sticks down in New Mexico, Texas and around there, but they often come further north, just to get a chance to stretch their limbs.”
“But how can you tell them from the Apaches who resemble them so closely?”
“That is rather a nice point, I’ll own,” said Lancaster, “with some professional points, but the fact is, that since we’ve been sitting on our horses, riding and listening, I’ve heard a scream given by one of the dogs, that I’ve heard afore and that always came from the throat of a full blooded Comanche.”
“It strikes me that if such is the case, the best thing we can do is to get out of this region as rapidly as possible.”
This was really the most sensible remark Fred Wainwright had made for some time; and feeling it to be such, he was not a little confused to see that it attracted scarcely any attention. Finally, Lancaster, who was still looking toward the tumultuous crowd which was passing toward them, remarked,
“They’re going to pass to the north of us, between us and the Point.”
“But they’ll see us.”
“What if they do?”
“Why we shall have a chase and all for nothing too, and be kept away the whole day from joining the party who are looking as anxiously for us.”
“See here, youngster,” said the trapper, turning towardtheir younger companion. “You’re talking about something that you don’t know nothing about. These Comanches are stealing them sheep, and they want to get along with them as fast as they can, if not faster; they have got no time to stop and fight, no matter how bad they want to.”
“You’ve guessed right, for once in your life,” remarked Harling, “you can see that the drove have turned to the north, and when they pass us there will be a good half mile between the Comanches and us.”
Lancaster looked inexpressible things and kept silence.
The remark of the hunter, or rather his prediction came true. In a few minutes, through the dust and smoke, they could distinguish the forms of Indians mounted on their mustangs, dashing hither and thither in the most rapid evolutions, while the affrighted sheep huddled together, or piled pell mell in their frantic attempts to make faster time. The Comanches displayed the most extraordinary skill in horsemanship, darting hither and thither, sometimes under their horse’s belly, then over his neck, and in every conceivable position.
The Indians discovered the hunters at the same instant that the latter saw them; but they did not give them the least heed. They were too numerous to fear any thing from the white men, and they knew they had too much shrewdness to disturb them; and so the mortal enemies passed within a comparatively slight distance of each other, with no other evidence of recognition than a mutual scowl of hate.
The hunters waited until a portion of the thick dust had settled, when they resumed their march for the point where they expected to meet the approaching emigrant party.
The dust raised by the multitudinous drove of sheep was so dense, as almost to suffocate the trappers as they rode along, even when they waited till the yelling, gyrating Comanches were far in the west with their terror-stricken animals.
A thin coating of the powder settled upon their garments, so that when they emerged with the free air beyond, they were all of a yellowish white color; but a vigorous brushing and shaking of their clothes speedily resumed this, and they became themselves again.
A half hour later, the party reached the “Old Man’s Point,” but as they swept the horizon, saw nothing of the approaching emigrant train. The rocks themselves were a mass of irregular boulders piled above each other to the distance of fully a hundred feet, while the base covered an area of fully a quarter of an acre, so that no better spot could be selected as a rendezvous, or from which to take observations.
“Fred, go to the top and take a look!” said Lancaster, “I expect they must be in sight.”
“I was just thinking of doing so,” was the reply of Wainwright, as he dismounted and began clambering up the rocks. His agility soon carried him to the top, and shading his eyes with his hands, he looked off toward the east a moment, and then called out,
“They are coming!”
“Make right sure,” called Lancaster back to him,“for you are powerful apt to make blunders in this part of the world. Be you sure they ain’t Comanches or Apaches or some other party of stragglers.”
“I can see the white tops of their wagons.”
“I guess you’re right then,” was the comment of both the hunters below, as they considered that this fact established the other truth.
Turning their heads in the direction indicated they were able to discern the caravan, at that great distance, apparently standing still, but, as they knew, moving as rapidly as possible toward them.
Having assured himself that it was all right regarding them Fred Wainwright turned his gaze toward the vanishing Comanches and their stolen sheep. There was no difficulty in locating them, as the vast volume of dust indicated their whereabouts as unmistakably as does the smoke the track of a fire on the prairie.
The young hunter observed something which struck him as rather remarkable. The Comanches, after reaching a point, when it was plain they could not be discerned by any one, standing at the base of the Rock, made a bend fully at right angles to the course they had been pursuing. This they continued, until they grew faint and finally vanished from sight altogether.
This rather puzzled Fred until he mentioned it to the two hunters below when he descended, when Harling explained its meanings. From whomsoever the Comanches had stolen the sheep, it was evident they had fears of pursuit. It is the easiest thing in the world to follow a sheep trail over the prairie; but, if the pursuing party should ever happen, for the sake of convenience, to leave the trail, they would be very apt to take a general direction in their pursuit, without going to the trouble of keeping to the main path. In this manner, unless some such ruse were suspected, they would never notice the change in direction made by the thieves, and thus give the latter just what theywanted, sufficient time to get themselves and their prizes into safety.
But the emigrant party was now close at hand, and Fred reascended the rocks and waived his hat as a signal that all was right. This demonstration relieved them in a great degree, for upon discerning the figures, the company had come to a dead halt, and seemed to be consulting together; but now they immediately moved forward; and as the trappers moved out to meet them, the two parties speedily mingled with each other.
The emigrants numbered about a hundred,—ten wives, a young woman, a half dozen children, while the rest were strong, stout bearded men, well-armed, and willing to dare anything in the defence of their property. They had got pretty well used to Indians, storms and danger in coming thus far, and felt considerable confidence in themselves.
“But we’ve never traveled this way before,” remarked Mr. Bonfield, a pleasant, middle aged man, who by virtue of having the largest family, and owning almost all the horses and wagons, was looked upon as a sort of leader in the enterprise; “and, of course we ain’t acquainted with the route. We engaged a capital guide at St. Louis, but several days ago he was shot.”
“He oughter known better than that,” remarked Lancaster; “if he learned enough to be a guide, he oughter learned enough to take care of himself.”
“He did; but this was one of those things which sometimes happens when we don’t dream there is any danger. He and Templeton here were chasing an antelope, just at sunset, when they struck him, and he limped a short distance, and finally tumbled over in a small grove not a half mile distant from camp. Of course they dashed after him, when, just as they went down into the timber, I saw a flash from behind one of the trees, the poor fellow threw up his arms, rolled off his horse and fell dead to the ground. Templetondashed on into the grove, when a single Apache warrior on foot, started on a run across the prairie, but he hadn’t taken a dozen leaps, jumping from side to side, so as to distract his aim, when he put a ball through his skull and laid him dead in his track. I suppose, when the Apache saw them coming, he knew it meant sure death to him, and as he did the best he could—shot one and run for it; but who of us, if we had been in the guide’s place would not have done precisely as he did?”
“You’re right,” replied Harling. “What was his name?”
“Hackle.”
“Joe Hackle?” asked Lancaster, with considerable interest.
“That was it.”
“Poor Joe; he and I trapped together for three years on the upper forks of the Platte, and a braver or better fellow never lived. He knowed every mile of ground between the Mississippi—that is if you follow the route travelers generally take.”
“And that reminds me that we were told that we should find Mr. Ward Lancaster, and George Harling at this place, and that they would act as our guide into Lower California. I presume you are the gentlemen?”
“Well, yas,” replied Lancaster with a huge grin, “I s’pose we be: that is I’m Ward Lancaster without theMr.”
Mr. Bonfield laughed; for he evidently understood what it all meant. The emigrant be it remembered had halted, and the leader and several of the men had advanced a hundred yards or so, and were consulting with the hunters. The rest of the emigrants were busy attending to their animals, or to themselves and their private affairs.
“Can we engage you as guides?” asked the leader, unable to conceal his eagerness.
“I rather think so, as we come out here for that thing.”
“There’ll be no difficulty about the compensation; for we need a guide badly enough. Most of my party had concluded to halt here and wait until we could procure one; and, although I opposed this conclusion, I should have disliked very much to have penetrated further into this country, which is entirely unknown to every one of us.”
“It wouldn’t have done,” said Wainwright. “You would have lost your way among the mountains and every one of you would have been picked off by the Indians before a week had passed over your heads.”
“So I thought; or else taken prisoners.”
“Those Indians in these parts, ain’t apt to take prisoners, unless they are in the form of valuable animals, or fair women.”
“He is right,” said Lancaster, deeming it necessary that the statement should receive his endorsement before he could pass for genuine in such a promiscuous company.
Mr. Bonfield and Lancaster now went apart by themselves for a few moments, and talked together in low tones. They soon rejoined the others when the trapper announced that the arrangements were completed, and they were to accompany the party to their destination, which was Fort Mifflin, on the western side of the Coast Range, or Rocky Mountains, in the midst of a gold region. At the little town which encompassed this fort, were a dozen of their friends, who had been there a couple of years, and who had sent for them. They had a young lady, whose father was the principal man at Fort Mifflin, and who had sent for his daughter to join him, at the time the party crossed the plains.
The preliminaries being settled, the party rode back to the emigrant train, made the acquaintance of the others and the march was resumed. They had all breakfasted, and it was concluded to make no haltuntil they reached a small stream, which Lancaster hoped could be found by noon, when they could rest as long as they chose.
“What part of the States are you from?” inquired Fred Wainwright, of the gentleman who had been referred to by the leader as Mr. Templeton.
“Missouri,” was the reply.
“Ah! what part of it?”
“From the capital.”
The young hunter could not avoid an exclamation of surprise, uttered so naturally that the emigrant turned abruptly toward him.
“Are you from there?”
“I—ahem!—I know several persons from that part of the country—that is I used to know them, but it is a good while ago.”
Mr. Templeton gazed at him sharply, and remarked by way of explanation of his apparent rudeness:
“Most of us are from there, and I thought at first there was something in your voice that was familiar, but I don’t remember your name. We have a young lady—Miss Florence Brandon, whose name you may have heard, as she was a belle at home.”
“I think I have heard of her.”
“Would you like to renew your acquaintance with her?”
“No; I thank you; we hunters are hardly in a condition to appear in the presence of refined ladies, as I judge Miss Brandon to be, and our lives are such that we should cut a sorry figure, if we attempted to do so.”
“But you talk like one who has not always led a hunter’s life.”
“I have some education, but at present, I am simply a hunter and trapper.”
Florence Brandon!Little did Mr. Templeton dream of the strange emotions awakened in the breast of Fred Wainwright, the young hunter, at the mention of that name.
The sun had barely crossed the meridian, when the emigrant party reached a small stream of water, and made midday halt. The animals were fed, dinner cooked and eaten, pipes smoked, and everything done in accordance with the time and circumstance.
Fred Wainwright did his best to appear natural, but since the mention of Florence Brandon’s name, his heart had been stirred, as it had not been stirred for many a day. Old emotions which he imagined were dead had——but enough for the present.
When the call was made for dinner, he saw a young lady descend from one of the large baggage wagons, so remarkably handsome, as to cause an exclamation of surprise and admiration from all who had not seen her. The young hunter started and gasped, and then passed his hand over his face, as if to make sure that his massive beard was there, then he slouched his hat so as to be sure the fair girl could not possibly recognize him.
At meal-time, he managed to keep a goodly distance from her; and, when pressed to go forward and make himself known, he resolutely refused, and acted very much as though he had a mortal terror of Miss Florence Brandon.
The alloted time for rest had expired, and the party were making ready to move on again, when three strangers made their appearance mounted on rather sorry looking nags. Two of them were dressed in halfcivilized costume, with shaggy, untrimmed beards and hair, and a remarkable talent for saying nothing except when directly appealed to. The third would have attracted attention in any part of the world,—being nothing more nor less than a genuine, traveling Yankee, dressed in precisely the same suit of clothes in which he left his own native Connecticut a year before. A huge, conical hat surmounted a small head, from which sprouted a mass of yellow hair, a portion of which protruded through an opening in the top, while the rest hung down over his shoulders. Sharp, grey eager eyes, a thin peaked nose, a yellow tuft of hair on the chin, prominent cheek bones and bony, angular muscular frame, completed the noticeable points in the most talkative character in the group.
While the party were as yet nearly a hundred yards distant, the Yankee called out,
“Say, you folks, have you seen anything of any stray sheep in these parts?”
The earnest simplicity with which this question was asked brought a broad smile to the face of all who heard it. Lancaster asked as the three horsemen rode up,
“Have you lost any?”
“Ye—s! a few.”
“How many?”
“Five thousand, four hundred and twenty eight.”
From the remark of the horseman, it was evident that the flock of sheep stolen by the Comanches belonged to him and his party. Lancaster, therefore had no hesitation in replying,
“We seed a drove of almost that size go ’long this morning.”
“Did you count ’em?”
“I rather think not.”
“Pretty good sized drove?”
“Right smart size.”
“Who was driving on them!”
“A half dozen Comanches.”
“There’s our sheep!” exclaimed the horseman clapping his knee and turning his face toward his companions, who merely looked their reply without speaking.
“Now, ain’t that mean!” he asked, turning back again toward the trappers and emigrants. “My name is Leonidas Swipes, and me and these two gentlemen left New Haven, a year ago last April. All three of us teached school in districts that joined, but we concluded we was intended for better business, and so we put our heads and purses together and started for California.”
“What were you doing with such a number of sheep!” asked Mr. Bonfield.
“Taking ’em into California where mutton is five times as high as it is east.”
“But where did you get the sheep!”
“Wal, the way on it was this,” replied Mr. Swipes, ejecting a mouthful of tobacco juice, rolling his quid to the opposite cheek, and assuming a position of ease. “We started from St. Louis just at the beginning of Spring, lost our way and afore we knowed it fetched up in Santa Fe, five hundred miles off our course. Of course, we were considerably riled to think we had made such fools of ourselves, but there was no help for it, and we soon found there was as good chance to make money in Santa Fe, as in any other part of the world.”
“Yes,” said Harling, “it is one of the greatest gambling holes this side of the Mississippi.”
Mr. Swipes instantly straightened himself with righteous indignation.
“You don’t s’pose we ever gamble? No, sir; such things are frowned upon in Connecticut, and there aint one of this party that can tell one keerd from another. No,sir; we never gambled in our lives. If you aint mistaken there, then my name aint Leonidas Swipes,—no, sir; by jingo.”
“But how did you get the sheep?” pursued Mr.Bonfield, for there was something in the rattling loquacity of the Yankee that made him interesting and that caused the male members of the party to gather around him. As the horseman found himself in this pleasing position, he grew more voluble than ever, and declaimed in a style and manner, which demonstrated that while his two companions were mum, yet his party in the aggregate did enough talking to answer very well for one of its size.
“I’m saying it was rather queer, the way we come in possession of them sheep, I swan if it wasn’t. We hadn’t been in Santa Fe a great while, when a sickly looking Missourian and a gander legged Arkansian came into the town with this drove of sheep. They tried to sell ’em, but nobody would give their price, and one of ’em got out of patience, and turned his horse’s head around and started straight back for home. The other staid at the hotel where we was, and got took sick, and I soon seen he was going to die. As I’ve read law some, I axed him whether he hadn’t a will to make, and I’d be happy to draw it up for him. He said he hadn’t a single friend in the world, except the Arkansian, and he didn’t s’pose he’d ever see him again. He said he hadn’t any property except the sheep.
“Well, friends, I was not long in seeing there was a fine opening for a young man, and the way I stuck to that poor Missourian would have teached your hospital nurses a lesson. I hope you don’t think there was any selfishness in it; for if any of you get sick, I’ll do the same for you. Howsomever, that aint here nor there; the fellow died after awhile, and, in his will, it was found that the five thousand and odd sheep had been left to Leonidas Swipes.
“I was about to sell the drove to a couple of Mexicans, when I happened to hear that sheep in California was worth twenty dollars a piece. Jingo! wasn’t there a chance? That flock that I wast just on the point of selling was worth over a hundred thousanddollars, if I could only get it through the mountains. I tell you the bare idea gives me the head-ache, I swan if I didn’t.
“Wal, I told my friends here, Mr. Doolittle and Birchem that if they’d join, each of ’em could have a third, and we’d make our fortune. So we started, and here we are without a sheep to our name.”
“How did you expect to get through the mountains?”
“The thing has been done before and can be done again.”
“But you did not know the way.”
“Oh! we had a guide, but he played us a mean trick. I agreed to give him a hundred sheep for his payment, just as soon as he got us into the Sacramento Valley. We hadn’t been out three days, when one night, he give us the slip, taking two or three hundred sheep with him and leaving us to go alone. We felt a little shaky about doing it, but we couldn’t do anything else, and so we shoved ahead, and by jingo here you see us, only three sheep of us,” and Mr. Swipes’ face expanded into a broad smile.
“But you haven’t told us how these Comanches got the sheep away from you?” said Fred Wainwright, echoing the curiosity that all the others felt.
“You wish themodus operandiI presume, I can soon give it, I swan if I can’t. Last night we stopped on a small stream of water, where we knew the grass was sosucculent,—sosucculent, that the sheep would stay there all Summer if we’d only let them; and, as we was pretty tired, and hadn’t had a good night’s sleep since leaving Santa Fe, we made up our minds to take a square night’s sleep.
“Well, we did so; and when I awoke this morning, I looked around and seen our sheep about a half mile distant, tearing away like mad, and a party of Indians driving on ’em. Well, if you ever seen three Yankees, you know what the matter was with us. We hopped around there awhile, like a lot of chickens that hadstepped on a hot johny cake, and then we set off after the Indians, shouting to ’em to hold on, while we explained the matter to them; but hang ’em, they only went the harder; and, as our horses was used up, we had to give it up and yumer ’em along like to keep ’em from giving out.”
“You have been rather unfortunate,” remarked several, feeling really sorry for the unfortunate Yankees.
“Yes, but I hope we can recover ’em agin.”
“How?”
“Can’t we make a party and pursue them? I’ll do the fair thing with any of you that will join us. You see it hardly looks smart to let a hundred thousand dollars stray off in that style.”
“I cannot speak for the three hunters here, but it would be hardly prudent for the rest of us to weaken our force by dividing it when we are in such a dangerous portion of the country,—but, I beg pardon, we have forgotten the laws of hospitality. Have you been to dinner?”
“I was about to observe thatwe had not, and we would rather do that just now than anything else we can think of.”
Loss of property, grief and misfortune is almost always sure to affect the appetite. A hearty vigorous digestion is incompatible with depression of spirits, or sudden paralysis of sorrow.
But Leonidas Swipes was subject to no such weakness, so far as the loss of his magnificent drove of sheep was concerned. How remote the prospect of his recovering a tithe of his property, he was resolved that it should interfere in no way with the meal before him.
Himself and his two companions seated themselves upon the ground, near one of the large baggage wagons, while several of the females occupied themselves with placing their food upon a matting before them.
In the caravan were a couple of fine milch cows which, although they had traveled all the way from the States were in good condition and gave excellent milk. When a large pitcher of the cool delightful liquid was placed before the hungry horsemen, their eyes expanded in amazement; but neither Mr. Doolittle nor Mr. Birchem uttered a syllable, except when Swipes asked them whether it was not splendid, whereupon they replied with a grunt and nod of the head.
“Well, I swan if it doesn’t beat all I ever seed or heerd tell on. That’s the first drop of decent milk I’ve tasted since leaving Connecticut,” said he, addressing the elderly woman who was acting the part of awaiter. “We had some in Santa Fe, but it couldn’t begin with this.”
At this point, Swipes poured out a large cup-full, and slowly drank off its contents, gradually lifting the cup until it was inverted over his face thrown back so far as to be horizontal. In this position, he held it for some time until sure the last drop had descended into his mouth, when he lowered it again with a great sigh and a prolonged—“A——hem!”
“But that is splendid now!splendid, by jingo! if it isn’t. When I had that up to my mouth, I just shut my eyes, and there! I was back in Connecticut agin, a sitting under the old mulberry tree, at noon, after we have been mowing hay, and was taking our lunch! Ah! I was a boy again.”
While the hunters were eating, most of the emigrants were consulting together, making the arrangements for the day’s journey, and debating the proposition, the Yankee had made for some of them to join in the pursuit of the thieving Comanches.
Fred Wainwright, feeling somewhat interested in Swipes, sauntered slowly toward him, and took a seat on the ground near the party, while they ate, that he might relieve his depression of spirit somewhat by conversing with the quaint New Englander, who, as has been seen was more disposed to be loquacious than anything else.
“I say Mr.——also Mr.——what did you tell me was your name?” remarked the latter, as he suddenly cast his eyes toward the young hunter.
“Wainwright.”
“I say, Mr. Wainwright, you belong to them trappers; don’t you?”
“Yes.”
“Wal, what do you think of my proposition. Fine chance for a spec,” said he, speaking rapidly and looking shrewdly. “’Taint often you have such a chance.”
“I have no particular feeling about it either way,” replied Wainwright. “It is a big loss for you, butwe are bound to this emigrant party, having made an engagement to accompany them through the mountains, and don’t believe Lancaster or Harling will join you without the free consent of this party.”
“Hang the Comanches!” exclaimed Swipes, as well as he could, with his mouth full of meat, bread and milk; “hang ’em I say, they’re up to all kinds of tricks, I understand, but I think they have served us just about the meanest one I ever heerd tell 'on. I swan if they haint. I say, Mr. Wainwright, are you much acquainted with the place over the mountains where you’re going!”
“Never have been there in my life.”
“Don’t say; how in creation then are you going to act as guide; that’s what I should like to know?”
“I am not the guide; it is Lancaster; he has been on the mountains several times.”
“O—ah! I understand; then he could tell me all about the country. Have you ever heard him speak of the place?”
“Oh! yes; he has referred to it many times.”
“Do you know whether there is a good opening for a talented young man?”
“It isn’t likely these emigrants would be traveling there through all this danger, unless there was a prospect of their bettering themselves. But what sort of business do you expect engaging in?”
“Well, anything most; I’m handy at everything; served my time as shoemaker, worked some at tailoring and blacksmithing and on the farm, and teached school in the winter. Say, you now,” exclaimed Swipes, with a sudden gleam of eagerness. “What kind of a place would it be to open a select school?”
The young hunter could not forbear a laugh at the simplicity of the question.
“I don’t think I could give you much encouragement in that direction. The country is most too young to give much attention to their schools, as yet, but I’ve no doubt there will be a fine chance in a shorttime, for such an institution. I am quite aware there is nothing more beneficial to a new settlement than a church and school.”
“Say Mr. Wainwright,” said Mr. Swipes, looking up in the face of the young hunter, with no little interest. “You look to me and you talk just as if you’ne been a school teacher.”
“No,” laughed Fred, “I never taught school a day in my life.”
“You’ve got larning enough to do so. I swan if you haint! when I hear a man saytaughtforteached, andbeneficial, and all them kind of words, I always set him down as knowing enough to teach school. Perhaps you notice I don’t allers speak grammatically and call my words exactly right; but don’t let that give you the idea that I havn’t got no education. I’m sensible of the mistakes after I make them, and when it’s too late to help ’em——Jingo!”
Leonidas Swipes raised his hands in the most profound amazement, as Florence Brandon suddenly walked around the wagon, came up to where they were sitting, and asked in the most musical of tones, “Is there anything more to which you will be helped?”
The discomfited Yankee for a time was unable to find his tongue. He sat gazing at the picture as one enraptured. His companions now found their tongues, and both replied that they were amply provided and wished for nothing more, whereupon she turned and disappeared.
Poor Fred Wainwright was in a dilemma fully as sore as that of Swipes. He had no thought of the girl until the exclamation of the latter. She halted within a few feet of where he was reclining upon the ground, and when Swipes became confused she turned toward the young hunter, and looked in his face with a smile as if she would like to have him join her in the enjoyment of the scene. But Fred’s face was as red as a Comanche’s when he looked up and encountered those soulful eyes.
Ah! those eyes with their deep heavenly blue! had he not looked into them before? Those red lips! had he not heard the sweetest words of his life come from them? and that queenly head; had he not bent over that! But stay! this will never do.
The minute he felt the eye of the young lady fastened upon him he let his own fall to the ground, and had his life depended on it he could not have raised them again. He could feel that his countenance was burning and fiery red, and his heart was thumping as it never thumped before. Indeed he feared that he should really faint unless he could recover himself.
He was enraged at himself for displaying such an unmanly weakness, and by a strong effort of the will he overcame his emotion—not enough to raise his eyes, to catch a glimpse at the hem of her dress as she flitted from sight again.
“Can it be that she suspected me?” he asked himself where she had gone. “No, I think she would not recognize me in this dress. Then my beard conceals my features, so that when I look into a spring, as I am about to drink, I cannot believe that I am the person I was a year ago. And my cap; I would hardly know my own brother in it. I would not have her know me at this time for the world, and I do hope that her look at me raised no suspicion in her mind.”
“By jingo!” exclaimed Leonidas Swipes, as soon as he could find tongue to express himself, “isn’t she a picter? If I wan’t engaged now, I—ahem! might sail in.”
“So you are engaged?” remarked Wainwright, glad to find an excuse for directing the attention from his own awkwardness.
“Yes,” replied the Yankee, resuming his eating in a serious matter-of-fact matter. “Yes, I’m fast; and if them Comanches hadn’t stolen them sheep, I calculatedbeing in San Francisco in ten months from now, to take passage in the steamer for hum, and to buy Deacon Poplair’s farm and settle down with Araminty—but hangnation, the sheep are gone, and where’s the use of talking?”
And as if to draw his griefs clean out of his remembrance, he ate more ravenously than ever.
But all that is temporal must have an end, and so did the enormous meal of the three half famished sheep dealers. When they had finally gorged themselves, and were remounted on their animals, they by no means were the woebegone-looking wretches that might have been imagined, in those who had just seen a hundred thousand dollars slip and escape off on the prairies. On the contrary they seemed quite cheerful. Messrs. Doolittle and Birchem were silent, as a matter of course, but Leonidas looked greasy and rather jovial.
As soon as the meal was concluded and the march was resumed, the train heading a little toward the north west, as Leonidas remarked they were some distance north of the pass by which they hoped to make their way through the mountains into Lower California, which in reality was Southern California, a considerable ways north of the Gulf, and not the peninsula known by that name.
Leonidas Swipes was informed by the trappers that they truly sympathized with the loss borne by him and his friends, but their engagement with Mr. Bonfield and the leaders of the train forbade them to unite with them in the attempt to secure the sheep. In fact, the trapper informed them that it was useless for them to expect to regain their property. It would require but a short time for the Comanches to reach one of their villages, where they could marshal a hundred warriors with which to defend their property; and mounted on their swift mustangs, it was almost impossible to compete with them.
It was a hard dose to swallow, but Swipes took itphilosophically, and persisted in believing there was some hope of recovering them. At least, as the Comanches took the same direction that the train was following, he concluded to remain with the latter for the present.
Until the great Pacific Railroad is completed, traveling across the plains must always be a wearisome labor. The rapid staging between many of the distant points, has in a measure toned down this laborious monotony; but, even with this improvement, hundreds who have made the trip will testify to its wearying sameness.
But, when an emigrant train starts forth it is the very impersonation of monotony to an impatient spirit. For a time the variety of landscape occupies the mind and in a great degree relieves the tedium; but, although some of the finest scenery in the world is in the West, it soon loses its power to amuse, and all feelings are absorbed in those of apprehension regarding dangers and anxiety to get ahead—manifested in some by a figuring and calculation as to the number of suns that must yet rise and set before they can hope to see their destination; in others to hurry and make the best time possible, and in still others by a dogged resolve to plod along without noting the distance traveled, but with the intention of suddenly awaking to the fact that they have completed their journey, and their travels are at an end. The only objection to carrying out this whim, is that he who undertakes it, is sure to find himself in spite of all he can do to divert his mind, looking for thedenouementlong before it is due.
The emigrant train, which from this time forthmust occupy a prominent part in our narrative, was one of those that have plodded patiently all the way from the Mississippi, until now having passed three-fourths of the distance, it was on the very border of the wild regions of California.
On the whole they had experienced good fortune. They had not lost an animal or a member of the party since starting, excepting their guide who was slain in the manner already narrated. Not a man, woman or child had seen an hour’s sickness, and all were now in the best of spirits.
But they had encountered more hardships than they anticipated, and on this day instead of having such a stretch of wild wilderness before them, it was their confident expectation to be at Fort Mifflin. They had terrible times in crossing some of the swift rivers; their horses had been carried away, and many a precious hour had been spent in recovering them; ten of their wagons had been hopelessly mired, and a large portion of their most valuable goods had been whirled away by the rushing torrents.
Then storms, whose fierceness they had never seen equalled in their own home, had swept over the prairie, causing them to tremble for their very lives—but here at last they all were, secure, intact, with a skilful guide at their head. So had they not every reason to be thankful, to take courage and to press on?
Ward Lancaster appreciating the magnitude of his charge, rode some distance at the head of the train, his eye constantly sweeping the prairie, and his mind taken up with the duty before him. He rode alone, except when some of his friends chose to keep company with him; but these generally found him as morose and incommunicative, that they were glad to fall back again and join the more sociable portion.
The horsemen were scattered all through the train, so that in case of attack they could rally to the defence of any portion without unnecessary delay. As naturallywas to be expected, intimate friends and acquaintances found their way into each other’s society.
Warfield and Mr. Bonfield appeared to take a strong liking to each other, for they rode side by side, and chatted in the most pleasant and familiar manner. Little was seen of Florence Brandon. Occasionally she indulged in a few miles walk, but at other times she was in one of the large lumbering covered wagons with Mrs. Bonfield and a maiden aunt. Miss Jamison, whose loquacity equalled that of Leonidas Swipes, and whose bosom seemed incapable of any emotion except that of the importance of keeping her sharp eye and long nose turned toward her ward.
Messrs. Doolittle and Birchem rode side by side; and as neither was heard to utter a syllable to the other, there can be but little doubt but that they vastly enjoyed themselves.
Swipes was getting along handsomely. He appeared to have recovered his spirits entirely, and to have forgotten the brief time he enjoyed the bliss of expected wealth.
“I tell you Mr. Wainwright,” said he, as he rode beside him, shaking his head and gesticulating his long arms, “I’ve an idee.”
“Ah!”
“Yes; it come into my head as I was riding along. I tell you it is an ideethat is an idee—bound to make my fortune.”
“As sure as the sheep would have done had they remained in your possession?”
“Y-es-s; but perhaps not quite so fast; but in a much better manner; in a manner that shall make my name famous along the Pacific coast.”
“It must be quite a grand scheme that has entered your head.”
“Itis!” was the emphatic response. “One of those idees such as you don’t get more than once in a life time.”
“Do you wish me to share your knowledge of it?”
“Of course I was preparing your mind for it like. What do you think of the Fort Mifflin Institute for the education of youths of both sexes?”
“That certainlysoundswell.”
“And ain’t it well—isn’t it grand? And what do you think of it?”
“You will have to be a little more explicit in your statements, before I can give you any decided opinion.”
“Why, as soon as we get to Fort Mifflin I shall erect a building, to be called the Fort Mifflin Institute for the Education of the Youths of both sexes. I shall have a lot of circulars printed.”
“Where will you get them printed?”
“At Fort Mifflin, of course. I believe in supporting home industry; I swun if I ain’t!”
Wainwright laughed.
“There is no printing office within a hundred miles of Fort Mifflin.”
“Whew! is that so? That’ll make some trouble—not much, however,—I can run up to San Francisco or to Sacramento city; have a few thousand circulars printed and distribute them on my way coming back. Jingo! it’s good I’ll have to go so far, don’t you see?”
“Where will you obtain your pupils?”
“From every part of California! Fact is, I should not wonder, after the Institute becomes known thro’ the Atlantic States, I should draw quite a number from there. You see, Mr. Wainwright, I’veteachedbefore, and I’ve got a reputation up in Connecticut. What do you think of it, Mr. Wainwright?”
“Perhaps you will succeed—hardly as well though as you seem to anticipate. I presume you would run the institution yourself.”
“I shall be the head of course—the principal; but I shall organize a faculty at once. Mr. Doolittle there will be just the man to be professor of mathematics, and Mr. Birchem professor of the natural sciences.”