On A Donkey's Hurricane Deck

<h3><SPAN name="CHAPTER_LIII" id="CHAPTER_LIII">CHAPTER LIII.</SPAN> <br/>A frightful ghost dance</h3> <p class="toclink"><SPAN href="#TOC-II">TOC</SPAN></p> <p class="center">BY MAC A'RONY.</p> <div class="poembox"><div class="stanzaleft"> <div class="verse0">"A torch for me, let wantons, light of heart,</div> <div class="verse0">Tickle the useless rushes with their heels;</div> <div class="verse0">For I am proverb'd with a grandsire phrase.</div> <div class="verse0">I'll be a candle-holder, and look on."</div> </div> <cite class="citefarright">—Romeo and Juliet.</cite></div> <p>Old Len A——n was a jolly old soul, and a jolly old soul was he; he leaped aboard in the middle of my back, and hollared to me: "Git!—Haw!—Gee!"</p> <p>We donks had a great time at that little desert metropolis. Len owned the place, that is, until Pod's outfit arrived, then Mac A'Rony owned it. Pardon my seeming vanity. When the nabob of Sinclair rode me to the corral, the crowd cheered me three times three, "Hooray fer Mac A'Rony!"</p> <p>Besides Len, the sturdy pioneer of '49, there were the foremen, store-keeper, blacksmith, bronco buster, justice of the peace, postmaster, cowboys, cooks, and numerous wives and daughters and cousins and aunts all willing and anxious to make our party comfortable. Pod was at once escorted to the house to entertain and be entertained by the ladies, while Coonskin unpacked, watered and fed us donks, like a good fellow. For once on my long journey, I had my fill.</p> <p>Finally we were left to entertain ourselves. In less than a half hour I wanted a drink, for when we were led to the well I refused to imbibe; now I regretted it. Donks are funny creatures—regular Chinese puzzles. When you think us thirsty we ain't, and when we are we must help ourselves, or go dry.</p> <p>I discovered a rope dangling from a projecting arm of a high gatepost, nabbed it, and pulled; the gate did the rest—opened. So I walked straightway to the well trough and drank, then sauntered to the house to learn how Pod was faring. S' help me, Balaam! there he sat with Coonskin at a long table, surrounded by men and women, all talking and laughing and "joshing." But I noticed the travelers kept their knives and forks busy, and wasted no time. It made me hungry to see them eat, so I returned to the corral to finish my barley; but when I got there I found it already finished. No use talking, a jackass ain't to be trusted, nohow, at any time. The only thing left for me to do was to go foraging.</p> <p>Out I went, nosing around, hoping to discover a clothesline with some shirts and socks hanging on it, or to stumble over an old gunnysack or cast-off garment. After a little, I observed that the second largest house was the scene of considerable activity, and I sneaked up and peeped in the window.</p> <p>The ground floor was one vast room, presumably the bunk house for those men not having homes of their own. At one extremity a ladder reached from the floor to the loft. One half of the ceiling was boarded, and the other half looked white, as if it were made of canvas or sheeting. I suppose lumber was scarce out there in the desert. Now, a donkey's curiosity ain't to be sneezed at. Fearing lest I might be discovered and locked up, I withdrew to the rear to another window, when, suddenly, I ran into a heap of bedding and other stuff. I could arrive at only one conclusion; there was to be a dance in honor of Pye Pod.</p> <p>I had devoured half of a hay mattress before the guests began to arrive for the dance. They came from the various houses and cabins, clad in their finest, and among them were a fiddler and a mouth-organ grinder, who at once pitched camp in one corner of the room and tuned up.</p> <p>To open the dance, the Prof. led off with the landlord's pretty daughter in a waltz, Coonskin sailed around close behind with her black-eyed companion, and soon that bunk-house was as busy as a stock exchange.</p> <p>After several dances had occurred, the men excused themselves and came out to the table beside the luggage, and commenced opening several bottles of the "real article." I stood stock still at some distance in the darkness, but within smell of the refreshments, and noted that some took it straight, while others mixed it with sugar and water, or milk. Coonskin doted on punches of all kinds (except one variety reserved for obstreperous donks), milk punches, rum punches, whiskey punches, claret punches, etc., but milk punches mostly, and so this was an event for that unbridled youth. He gulped down several milk punches with great glee, and then followed the gang into the house and went at the dance again in earnest. Later on the men came out for more refreshments. At a late hour that "O be joyful dance" was brought to a sudden finish by a frightful incident, or accident.</p> <p>It seems that the cowboys had to rise early to hunt up stock on the range, and therefore went up the ladder to bed before the dance was over. As Coonskin had a cot with them, he was asked to retire at the same time, so as not to disturb them. But that boy wanted just one more dance—it was one too many.</p> <p>When he started to climb the ladder I held my breath; once he slipped through the rungs and only caught himself by his chin. The rest of the dancers kept their feet as busy as ever, and the fiddler had just called "Balance ter corners," and everybody looked to be in good spirits—the best of spirits was in the men—when all at once Coonskin dropped through the sheet ceiling overhead on to the floor in their midst. I was glad to see he lit on his feet like a cat, instead of on his head, as one would suppose with such a heavy "load" as it must have had. The frightened, embarrassed fellow chased himself in his shirt tail round and round that room, passing three doors at every lap, yet calling: "Where's th' door?" For a moment everybody looked paralyzed. But by the time the first of them regained his senses, Coonskin discovered a door and scooted out into the darkness, and ran plumb over me. Both of us went sprawling on the ground. It broke up the dance and everybody there. The women gathered in one corner and laughed in their sleeves, and the men ran out to look for what had dropped out of the ceiling, or sky—they seemed sort of dazed like, as if they didn't know. When I got my breath, I set out for the corral and brayed with laughter all the way.</p> <p>Finally, I heard a familiar voice whispering to me in the stable door, and creeping up I discovered Coonskin shivering with a sheepskin about his shoulders.</p> <p>"They're after me, ain't they?" he asked.</p> <p>"Well, I reckon they are," I replied. "How did it happen?"</p> <p>"Well, it was this way," Coonskin explained. "When I went upstairs to bed, I found the men had blown out the candle and left me to undress in the dark-hic-ness. I felt round till I found my cot, and undressed, all but my shirt, when I found my pillow missing. Says I, 'Where's my pillow?' One fellow says: 'There it is, over there; wese had a pillow fight.' So I started to go for it. I hadn't gone far before I sort o' felt I was treading-hic-on velvet, but I thought it was the punches and kept right on, till I struck the floor downstairs. That-hic-'s-all."</p> <p>Just then the men entered the stables and finding Coonskin huddled up in wool, had a laugh, and brought him clothes to put on, and went with him to the deserted dance hall, and saw him safely to bed.</p> <p>The more I thought of this accident the more sober I got, until I thought what a miracle saved Pod's valet, and wondered what he would have done without him out there in the desert. Then I tangled up my legs and went to sleep.</p> <p>Next day Coonskin was the most embarrassed fellow that ever rode a donk. The good-natured host could hardly persuade him to breakfast. Everybody was silent at the table, Pod said; but finally Len began to chuckle, and remarked that he'd been West nigh on to fifty year, but last night was the first time he had ever seen the ghost dance. Coonskin said it was no ghost dance, just a new kind of breakdown.</p> <p>After breakfast, Len gave Pod a look at his stock and made him stock up with all necessary provisions. He wouldn't take a cent for anything, only a few photographs to distribute to his retainers. He even said he was sorry for the hard times; he would like to give the Prof. at least a hundred dollars. I believed the generous old pioneer, for it would be just like him.</p> <p>Pod began the day in fine spirits. He had been pleasantly surprised on being assigned to a room in Len's house to notice the furnishings arranged with distinctively feminine taste; so he was not surprised, when at the breakfast table he catechized Miss A——n, to draw from the lips of the blushing maiden the confession that she had resigned her boudoir to the distinguished donkey-traveler. Hence Pod had a delicious sleep in the downiest of beds. And, as a token of his appreciation for the courtesy, he presented the young lady with a silver scarf-pin which he had worn across the desert.</p> <p>I shared some of my master's regrets on leaving. The women hugged me good-bye, but when the ranchman's daughter put her arms round my neck, Pod was so jealous that he jammed a spur in my side.</p> <p>After a time we got started on the trail. Len not only declined pay for Pod's supplies, but gave me a hundred pounds of barley. This my comrades offered to carry provided I would divide with them.</p> <p>For the three days following there was little else to see besides sand and sage and basaltic rocks. Ragtown still stands, a squatty cabin and dilapidated shed with corral adjoining, where old Ace Kenyon of questionable fame reaped a harvest from the half-starved emigrants of early days by extorting from them rewards for recovering their lost cattle, which he had had his retainers drive into the mountains in the night. Ace would place all the blame on the innocent shoulders of the Indians. He claimed that such depredations were often made by hostile tribes, and that only through the courage of his desperate cowboys could he possibly retrieve them. After the despondent emigrants had tarried several days and been forced to pay extravagant prices for provisions, and some of them induced to throw away their rags for a suit of new clothes, the cattle would be driven into camp. Then the elated travelers had to open their purses again. Ragtown, situated as it was at the extremity of the Humboldt Desert, was a sort of overland depot, and we were told that thousands of emigrants used to drift in that direction from other routes when water had given out and for miles the trail was then strewn with cast-off raiment, abandoned wagons, sometimes with oxen attached, and the skeletons of cattle and men who died from thirst. At times we could see the winding line of cotton-woods that marked the tortuous current of the Carson in the distance, and again the river would flow slowly close at hand. Pod spent most of the dull hours playing solitaire on Damfino's broad back, riding backwards.</p> <p>We struck camp at the last ranch on the Carson the morning of October 18, and tried to reach Dayton the same night. Everything went well until we came to a point where three trails met. Pod had been cautioned to take the best-beaten one, so, the night being dark, Coonskin left us donks in Pod's charge and ventured to examine the trails. It was eleven o'clock. Not a thing had we had to eat or drink all day except a small measure of barley. To stand waiting for that slow boy to get his bearings was more than we donks could bear, and soon Damfino whispered to Cheese and me to slip away from the outfit and follow her lead.</p> <p>The suggestion was at once acted upon. Each of us took a different course to start with, but we soon caught up with Damfino, who led us a good pace for two hours and ran us all into Six Mile Canyon about one a. m. There we lay down with saddle and packs on, and, to our surprise, discovered that faithful dog, Don, lying close by, on guard. It was not the most comfortable night I had ever passed, but it was better than standing. When Coonskin found us in the afternoon he caused me to change my ideas on that question, but on reaching Dayton, the Prof, was so glad to see me that he lavishly dined us all, watered us, and let us roll to our heart's content. So all scores were settled.</p> <div style="break-after:column;"></div><br />