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Captain Bayley's Heir: A Tale of the Gold Fields of California

<h2>CHAPTER IX.</h2> <h3>ON THE PLAINS.</h3> <div class="figleft"> <ANTIMG src="images/i005-i.png" width-obs="100" height-obs="100" alt="I" title="" /></div> <div class='unindent'>    THINK now that you can spare me, Mr. Willcox," Frank said, just a month after the day of landing. "The store has got into swing now; the two negroes know their work well, and everything is going on smoothly; therefore, if you have no objection, I shall see about making a start."</div> "I shall be sorry to lose you," Mr. Willcox said; "but, as you say, the place will run itself now. I shall go down by the next steamer, and send up two more storekeepers and a clerk from my office there. This is going to be a big thing. Well, lad, here's the money you gave me to take care of, and the two hundred dollars due to you. I will give orders to Simpson that you are to take everything you can require for your journey from the store, and mind don't stint yourself; you have done right-down good service here, and I feel very much indebted to you for the way you have stuck to me at this pinch. I wish you every luck, lad, and I hope some day that rascally affair at home will be cleared up, and that you can go back again cleared of that ugly charge. Anyhow, it is well for you to make your way out here. It will be a satisfaction for you, if you do go back, to have shown that[155] you were dependent on no one, but that you could fight your own way, and make your living by the aid of your own hands and your own brain. And now look here, if at any time you get sick of gold-digging, as you very well may, and want to turn your hand to anything else—and in a country like that, mind you, with a population pouring in from all parts, there will be big opportunities,—if you want capital to start you, just you send a letter to David Willcox, New Orleans, and tell me you have drawn on me for five thousand dollars. I am a rich man, lad, and have no children of my own; I have some nephews and nieces who will get my money some day, but I can do what I like with it, and you will be heartily welcome to the sum I mention. I have taken a fancy to you, and it will be a real pleasure to me to help you. If you do well you can some day send the money back, if you like; if you don't do well, there's an end of it. Don't let it trouble you for a moment, for it certainly won't trouble me, and be sure you don't hesitate to draw it when you want it. Remember, I shan't regard it as an obligation, but it will be a real genuine pleasure to me to cash that order." Frank thanked Mr. Willcox very heartily for his kind offer, of which he promised to avail himself should an opportunity arise, and in any case to write to him occasionally to tell him how he was getting on. Then he strolled out to examine the great gathering round the settlement, which hitherto he had had no time to do, having been at work from daybreak until late at night. As he wandered among the motley throng of emigrants, he was struck with the hopefulness which everywhere prevailed, and could not but feel that many of them were[156] doomed to disappointment. Many of them were storekeepers, men who had never done a day's work in their life; some were aged men, encumbered with wives and large families, and Frank wondered how these would ever survive the terrible journey across the plains, even if they escaped all molestation from the marauding Indians. He paused for a moment near four men who were seated round a fire cooking their meals. All were sturdy, sunburnt men, who looked inured to hardship and work. The fact that all were animated by a common impulse rendered every one friendly and communicative, and Frank was at once invited to sit down. "Of course you are going through, young fellow?" "Yes," Frank said, "I am going to try." "Got a horse, I suppose?" "Yes," Frank said, "a riding horse, and a pony for my baggage." "We calls it swag out on the plains," one said; "we don't talk of baggage here. Are you with any one?" "No," Frank replied, "I am alone; but I am open to join some party. I suppose there will be no difficulty about that." "None on airth," the other answered; "the stronger the better. In course you have a rifle, besides that Colt in your belt." "Yes," Frank replied; "but I suppose all this Indian talk is exaggeration, and there is not much danger from them." "Don't you go to think it, young man; the Injins is thar, you bet, and no mistake, and a big grist of scalps they will take. The news of this here percession across the plains will bring them down as thick as bees[157] on the track, and I tell you there will be some tough fights afore we get across." "Have you had much experience of the plains?" Frank asked. "We are hunters," the other said briefly, "and have been out there, more or less, since we were boys. We knows what Injins is, and have fought them agin and agin; but none of us have ever made this journey,—indeed there warn't five men who had ever crossed the Rockies by the northern track afore the gold scare began. But I know enough of the country to know as it will be a fearful journey, and full half of these people as you see fooling about here as if they were out for a summer excursion will leave their bones by the way." "You don't really think things are as bad as that," Frank said. "I does," the other replied emphatically. "What with Injins, and want of food and water, and fatigue, and the journey across the plains, it will want all a man to make the journey. We four means to get through, and are bound to do it; but as for this crowd you see here, God help them!" "Do you mean to go with one of the caravans, or start alone?" "There is a lot going on to-morrow, and we shall join them. We may be of some use, for the best part of them are no better than a flock of sheep, and four good hands may keep them out of some mischief; but I expect we shall have to push on by ourselves before the journey is over." "I am intending to go on to-morrow also," Frank said, "and I hope you won't mind giving me some instructions[158] in the ways of the wilderness, which are, I own, altogether new to me." "All right, young fellow; we shall see you on the road, and if you likes to chum up with us you may, for I likes yer looks, and you seems to be one of the right sort." Frank said that he would gladly chum with them if they would allow him, and the next morning, at daybreak, having said adieu to Mr. Willcox, he saddled his horse and loaded up his pony, and moved across to the spot where his new acquaintances were encamped. They were preparing for a start. All had good riding horses, while two baggage animals carried the provisions for the party. The caravan which they intended to accompany was already far out on the plain. "They are off in good time," Frank said; "I did not think they would manage to move till midday." "No more they would," one of the hunters said; "but the chap as is bossing the team moved them off yesterday evening, and got them a mile out of camp, so they were able to start right off the first thing this morning." In a few minutes they were on horseback, and, riding at easy pace for the sake of the baggage-horses, they overtook the caravan in two hours. It consisted of fourteen waggons, and four or five light carts with tilts over them. The waggons were all drawn by oxen, having six, eight, or ten according to their size or weight. The men walked by the side of their cattle; the greater part of the women and children trudged along behind the waggons, while a few with babies were seated within them. From time to time one of the men or boys would set up a song, and all would join in the chorus. One of these was ringing out in the air when the hunters joined them.[159] "Poor critturs!" the eldest of the hunters, who was called Abe by the others, said, "they are as light-hearted as if they war a-going to a camp meeting; they don't know what's afore them." The party rode on to the head of the waggons, where the oxen were led by the man who was regarded as the head of the party. He had at one time been a hunter, but had married and settled down on a farm. Two sons, nearly grown-up, walked by his side. He had been chosen as leader by the rest as being the only one of the party who had any previous knowledge of the plains and their dangers and difficulties. "Well, mate," Abe said, "I told you two days ago that I thought that we should go on with your lot, and here we are. I don't say as how we shall go all the way with you; that will depend upon circumstances; at any rate we will stay with ye for a bit. Now my proposal is this: you shall hitch our three baggage-horses on behind your waggons, and tell off one of the boys to look after them; we shall hunt as we go along, and what meat there is will be for the service of the camp, but if we supply you with meat it will only be fair that you supply us with flour and tea." "That's a bargain," the man said. "You bring us in meat, and we will supply you with everything else; and I needn't tell you how glad I am to have you with me. Five extra rifles may make all the difference if we are attacked. We have got about twenty rifles in camp; but that ain't much, as, with women and children, we count up to nigh sixty souls, and none of us here except myself have had any experience of Indian ways." "That's fixed, then," Abe said. "At any rate you need not be afraid of a surprise so long as we are with you."[160] The addition to their party gave great satisfaction to the whole caravan. Of flour and bacon they had ample stores to last them upon their long journey, and the prospect of a supply of fresh meat was exceedingly welcome; still more was the thought that the hunters would be able to warn them against any surprise by the Indians, and would, in case of the worst, aid them in their defence. The hunters were equally satisfied. Their supplies were quite insufficient for the journey, and they were now free from the necessity of accommodating their pace to that of the baggage-horses. Their progress would, indeed, be slower than it would have been had they journeyed alone, but time was a matter of no importance to them. Even in the matter of Indian surprises they were better off than they would have been had they been alone. In case of meeting these marauders, they must have abandoned their baggage-animals; and their prospects, either of flight or defence, would have been poor had they met with a large body when alone, whereas the force with the caravan could defend the waggons against even a resolute attack of the redskins. There was no occasion for the hunters to set out in the pursuit of game for the first day or two, as a supply of fresh meat had been brought from Omaha. They therefore rode with the caravan, making the acquaintance of its various members. One of the women had volunteered to cook for them; and thus, when they encamped on the banks of a small stream, they had only to attend to the watering of their animals. While the meal was preparing they walked about in the camp, and gave many hints to the women as to the best way of preparing fires. These were gratefully received,[161] for the emigrants were wholly unaccustomed to cooking without the usual appliances, and their efforts, in many cases, had been very clumsy and unsuccessful. They were surprised to find that by digging a trench in the direction from which the wind was blowing, and covering it over with sods, they could get a draught to their fire equal to that which they could obtain in a grate; while by building a low wall of sod close to leeward of the fire, they prevented the flames from being driven away, and concentrated them upon their pots and kettles. "It does not matter for to-night," Abe said to the leader, "nor for a good many nights to come; but if I was you I should begin to-morrow to make 'em arrange the waggons in proper form, the same as if we was in the Injin country. It ain't no more trouble, and there's nothing like beginning the right way." "You are right," the man said, "to-morrow night we will pitch them in good form; but for a time there will be no occasion for the cattle to be driven in every night, the longer they have to graze the better." "That's so," Abe said; "they will want all their condition for the bad country further on." The following day the hunters left the camp early. There was little chance of finding game anywhere near the line which they were following, for the wild animals would have been scared away by the constantly passing caravans. After riding for ten miles they began to keep a watchful eye over the country, which, although flat to the eye, was really slightly undulating. Proceeding at an easy pace, they rode on for upwards of an hour. Then Dick, one of the hunters, suddenly drew rein. "What is it, Dick?" Abe asked.[162] <div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/i017.jpg" width-obs="550" height-obs="352" alt="A DEER-HUNT ON THE PRAIRIE." title="" /> A DEER-HUNT ON THE PRAIRIE.</div> "I saw a horn over there to the left, or I am mistaken," the hunter said. "We will see, anyhow," Abe said; "fortunately we are down wind now. You had better stop behind this time, young fellow, and watch us." In a moment the four men dismounted and threw their reins on the horses' necks—a signal which all horses on the plains know to be an order that they are not to move away—and the animals at once began cropping the grass. For a short distance the men walked forward, and then, as they neared the brow over which Dick declared he had seen the horn, they went down on all fours, and finally, when close to the brow, on their stomachs. Very slowly they drew themselves along. Frank looked on with the greatest attention and interest, and presently saw them halt, while Abe proceeded alone. He lifted up his head slightly, and immediately laid it down again, while the other three crawled up close to him. There was a moment's pause, then the guns were thrust forward, and each slightly raised himself. A moment later the four rifles flashed, and the men sprang to their feet and disappeared over the brow. Frank rode forward at full speed to the spot, and arrived there just in time to see a number of deer dashing at full speed far across the plain, while the four hunters were gathered round three dead stags in the hollow. The hunters' shots had all told; but two had fired at the same animal, the bullet-holes being close to each other behind the shoulder. "Dick was right, you see," Abe said. "It was lucky he caught sight of that horn, for we might not have come upon another herd to-day. Now we will make our way[163] on to the camping-ground; we can go easy, for we shall be there long before the teams." Their horses were brought up, and the deer placed upon them. The hunters then mounted, and took their way in the direction of the spot where the caravans would encamp for the night. "I understand how you find your way now, because the sun is up," Frank said, "but I cannot understand how you would do it on a cloudy day, across a flat country like this, without landmarks." "It's easier to do than it is to explain it," Abe said. "In the first place there's the wind; it most always blows here, and one only has to keep that in a certain quarter. If there ain't no wind, there's the grass and the bushes; if you look at these bushes you will see that they most all turn a little from the direction in which the wind generally blows, and this grass, which is in seed, droops over the same way. Then, in course, there is the general direction of the valleys, and of any little streams. All of these are things one goes by at first, but it gets to come natural, what they call by instinct; one knows, somehow, which is the way to go without looking for signs. You will get to it in time, if you are long enough on the plains; but at present you watch the forms of all the bushes and the lay of the grass, 'cause you see in hunting we might get separated, and you might miss your way. If you should do so, and ain't sure of your direction, fire your gun three times, as quick as you can load it, and if we are in hearing we will fire a gun in reply and come to you; but you will soon get to know the signs of the country if you will pay attention and keep your eyes skinned." They arrived at the stream fixed upon for the camping-ground[164] early in the afternoon. The point at which the caravans would cross it was plain enough, for the waggons all travelled by the same line, and the trail was strongly marked by the ruts of wheels where the ground was soft, by broken bushes, and trampled herbage. The saddles were taken off the horses, and these were allowed to graze at will; those of the hunters were too well-trained to wander far, and Frank's horse was certain to keep with the others. Late in the afternoon the waggons arrived; it had been a long march of more than twenty miles, and men and beasts were alike tired. The women and children had, during the latter part of the journey, ridden in the waggons. There was a general feeling of satisfaction at the sight of the hunters and their spoil, and at the blazing fire, over which a portion of the meat was already roasting. The oxen were unharnessed and watered, the waggons were ranged six on each side, and two across one end, the other end being left open for convenience; across this the light carts were to be drawn at night. The deer were skinned, cut up, and divided among the various families in proportion to their numbers. For two months the caravan moved forward without adventure. The hunters kept it well provided with game, which was now very plentiful. Very disquieting rumours were afloat along the road. These were brought down by the express riders who carried the mails across the plains, and for whose accommodation small stations were provided, twenty or thirty miles apart; and as these were placed where water was procurable, they were generally selected as camping-grounds by the emigrants. The tales of Indian forays, which had at first been little[165] more than rumours, were now confirmed. The express riders reported that the Indians were out in large numbers, and that many attacks had been made upon parties of emigrants, sometimes successfully, and involving the massacre of every soul in them. The caravan was still some distance from the scene of these attacks; but as the Indians ranged over the whole plains, it could not be said that they were beyond the risk of assault. Acting under the hunters' advice, the caravan now moved in much closer order, the waggons advancing two abreast, so that they could be formed in position for defence at the shortest notice; and the rifles were always kept loaded, and strapped on the outsides of the waggons in readiness for instant use. Frank had by this time become an adept in hunting, and though still very far behind his companions in skill with the rifle, was able to make a fair contribution towards the provisioning of the camp. The hunters now divided into two parties, three going out in search of game on one side of the line of march, two on the other; they thus acted as scouts on either side, and would be able to bring in word should any suspicious signs be observed. Several small herds of buffalo had been met with, and a sufficient number killed to provide the party with meat for some time to come. Frank had never passed a more enjoyable time than those two months of travel. The air was clear, bright, and exhilarating; the long days spent in the saddle, and the excitement of the chase, seemed to quicken his pulse and to fill him with a new feeling of strength and life. His appetite was prodigious, and he enjoyed the roughly cooked meals round the blazing fire of an evening, as he[166] had never enjoyed food before. The country was, it is true, for the most part monotonous, with its long low undulations, and the bare sweeps, unbroken by tree or bush; but there was always something new and interesting to be seen,—for Frank was fond of Natural History, and the habits and ways of the wild creatures of the prairie were full of interest for him. His companions, although taciturn when on horseback and engaged in scouting the country, or in hunting, were full of anecdote as they sat round the fire of an evening, and Frank heard many a story of wild adventure with the Indians or in the chase. When they returned early to the camp, there was plenty of amusement in wandering about among the waggons, watching the various groups engaged at their work as unconcernedly as if they had been still in their little farms among the settlements, instead of on the plains with months of toilsome and dangerous journey before them. Some of the women cooked, while others mended their clothes and those of their husbands and children, while the men attended to the oxen, or made such repairs as were needed to the waggons and harness. As for the children, the life suited them admirably; to them it was a continual picnic, without school or lessons. And yet they too had their share of the work, for as soon as the waggons halted, all save the very little ones started at once over the plain to search for the dried buffalo dung, or, as it was called, chips, which formed the staple of the fires; for wood was very scarce, and that in the neighbourhood of the camping-grounds, which were always at a stream or water-hole, had long since been cleared off by the travellers who had preceded them. The chips[167] afforded excellent fuel, burning with a fierce, steady glow, and making a fire something like that afforded by well-dried peat. Another source of fuel were the bones which lay in many places, scattered pretty thickly. Sometimes these marked the spot where long before a party of Indians had come upon a herd of buffalo, sometimes they were remains of the cattle of caravans which had preceded them; these were often quite fresh, the herds of coyotes stripping off the flesh of any animals that fell by the way, and leaving nothing in the course of a day or two after their death but the bare bones. Whenever the caravan came upon such a skeleton upon the line of march, the men broke it up, and flung the bones into one of the waggons for the night's fire. Sometimes, as they got well on in their journey, they came to patches of soap-weed, a vegetable of soft, pulpy nature, which grows to a considerable height, and dies from the bottom, retaining its greenness of appearance long after the stem has become brown and withered; it burns freely, with a brilliant flame. The women of the party rejoiced when a clump of soap-weed was discovered, and it was always the occasion of a general wash, as by immersing some of it in water it had all the properties of soap, except that it did not make the lather which distinguishes the real article. But in places where the soap-weed was not to be found, and chips were scarce, the hunters did their best to supply fuel, and would generally bring home large bundles of wood upon such of the horses as were not carrying game. The children's greatest delight was when the camp happened to be pitched near a prairie-dog town, and they were never weary of watching the antics of these[168] funny little creatures. Some of these towns were of considerable extent, the ground within their circle being quite bare of herbage from their scratching, and the constant scampering of their little feet, and covered thickly with the mounds which marked the entrances to the innumerable holes. The prairie-dogs themselves were about the size of rabbits, but seemed to Frank, from their quick, jerking motions, and their habit of sitting up on their hind-legs, to resemble squirrels more than any other animal. They were as much interested in the travellers as the latter were with them, almost every mound having its occupant sitting up watching them inquisitively. There were four or five dogs with the caravan, and until the novelty had passed off, and they became convinced of the utter futility of the chase, the dogs exhausted themselves in their endeavours to capture the prairie-dogs. These seemed to feel an absolute enjoyment in exasperating the dogs, sitting immovable until the latter were within a few yards of them, and then suddenly disappearing like a flash of lightning down their holes, popping their heads out again and resuming their position on the tops as soon as the dogs had dashed off in another direction. But the prairie-dogs were not the only occupants of the towns; with them, apparently on terms of great friendship, lived a colony of little owls, sharing their abodes, and sitting with them on their hillocks. There were also a third species of inhabitant, and the presence of these caused strict orders to be given to the children not to wander over the ground; these were rattlesnakes, of which, on a sunny afternoon, many could be seen basking on the sand-heaps.[169] "Yes, you always find the three together," Abe said, in answer to Frank's question, "and how such contrary things get to be friends is more nor I can tell. Sartin they must eat each other, there ain't anything else for 'em to eat. The prairie-dogs air a puzzle; you never see 'em any distance beyond thar towns, and yet they must live on grass and roots. The owls, no doubt, live on little prairie-dogs, and the rattlesnakes may sometimes eat an old one. Still, there it is; they never seem afraid of each other, and no one, as far as I knows, has ever seen a prairie dog fifty yards away from his town. The rummest thing about them is as every town has got its well. The prairie-dogs have all got their holes, and though you may see 'em going about popping in and out of each other's houses, I fancy as they always keep to their own. But there's one hole which they all use, and that goes down to the water. No matter how deep it is, they takes it down; I fancy the whole lot digs at it by turns till they get there. You will see thar towns are always on lowish ground, so that they can get down to water all the sooner; that's why they build up those mounds round each hole." "I thought it was just the earth they had thrown out, Abe." "So it is, partly; but it serves to keep the water out in the wet season too. If you watch 'em you can see 'em building the earth up and patting it down hard if it gets broken down. Sometimes, in very wet weather, thar will be a flood, and then the whole lot, dogs and owls and snakes, get drowned all together. Mighty nasty places they are, I tell yer, when they are desarted. At other times you can see 'em plain enough, and can ride through 'em at a gallop, for the horses are accustomed[170] to pick thar way; but after a year or two, when the grass grows again, and is breast high in summer, and you come across one of them, the first you know about it is the horse puts his foot in a hole, and you are flying through the air. Many a fall have I had from them darned little things." "Are they good eating, Abe?" "Yes, they ain't bad eating; and if you lie down quiet, and shoot straight, you ain't long in making a bag. But you have got to kill 'em to get 'em; if you don't put your bullet through thar head, they just chucks themselves straight down the hole, and it would take an hour's digging, and it may be more, to get at 'em." "There seems to be a tremendous lot of rattlesnakes in some places, Abe." "Thar are that, lad; I have seen places where you might kill a hundred in an hour with your Colt. Thar are two sorts, them as you finds on the plains and them as you finds among rocks; one are twice as big as the other, but thar ain't much difference in thar bite." "Is it always fatal, Abe?" "Not often, lad, either to man or horse, though I have known horses die when they have been bit in the head when they have been grazing. The best thing is to tie a bandage tightly above the place, and to clap on a poultice of fresh dung—that draws out the poison; and then, if you have got it, drink half a bottle of spirits. It ain't often we get bit, because of these high boots; but the Injins get bit sometimes, and I never heard of thar dying. The only thing as we are regular feered of out in these plains is a little beast they call the hydrophobia cat." "I never heard of that. What is it like, Abe?"[171] "It is a pretty little beast, marked black and white, and about the size of a big weasel. It has got a way of coming and biting you when you are asleep, and when it does it is sartin death; thar ain't no cure for it; the best plan is to put your Colt to your head and finish it at once." "What horrible little beasts!" Frank said; "I hope they are not common." "No, they ain't common, and there's more danger from them down south; if you sleeps in an old Mexican hut that's been deserted, or places of that sort, it's best to look sharp round afore you goes to sleep." The game most commonly met with were the black-tailed and white-tailed deer. These were generally met with in parties of from six to twelve, and were usually stalked, although sometimes, by dividing and taking a wide circle, they could manage to ride them down and get within shot. This could seldom be done with the antelope, which ran in much larger herds, but were so suspicious and watchful that there was no getting within shot, while, once in motion, they could leave the horses behind with ease. The only way in which they could get them would be by acting upon their curiosity. One or two of the hunters would dismount, and crawl through the grass until within three or four hundred yards of the herd; then they would lie on their backs and wave their legs in the air, or wave a coloured blanket, as they lay concealed in the grass. The herd would stop grazing and look on curiously, and gradually approach nearer and nearer to investigate this strange phenomenon, until they came well within shot, when the hunters would leap to their feet and send their unerring bullets among them.[172] "You would hardly believe, now," Peter said, one day when he and Frank had brought down two fine antelopes by this man[oe]uvre, "that the coyotes are just as much up to that trick as we are. They haven't got a chance with the deer when they are once moving, although sometimes they may pick up a fawn a few days old, or a stag that has got injured; but when they want deer-meat they just act the same game as we have been doing. Over and over again have I seen them at their tricks; two of them will play them together. They will creep up through the grass till they can get to a spot where the antelope can see them, and then they will just act as if they were mad, rolling over on their backs, waving their legs about, twisting and rolling like balls, and playing the fool, till the antelope comes up to see what is the matter. They let them come on till they are only a few yards away, and then they are on one like a flash, before he has time to turn and get up his speed. One will catch him by a leg, and the other will get at his throat, and between them they soon pull him down. They will sham dead too. Wonderful 'cute beasts is them coyotes; they are just about the sharpest beasts as live." "Do they live entirely upon deer?" "Bless you, no; they will eat anything. They hang about behind the great buffalo herds, and eat them as drops; where there are such tens of thousands there is always some as is old or injured and can't keep up; besides, sometimes they get scared, and then they will run over a bluff and get piled up there dead by hundreds. The coyotes pick the bones of every beast as dies in the plains. The badgers helps them a bit; there are lots of those about in some places." <hr style="width: 65%;" />[173] <div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/i008-decoration.png" width-obs="400" height-obs="95" alt="Decoration" title="" /></div> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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