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Sabin</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online -at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you -are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the -country where you are located before using this eBook. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: Buffalo Bill and the Overland Trail</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Being the Story of how Boy and Man Worked Hard and Played Hard to Blaze the White Trail, by Wagon Train, Stage Coach, and Pony E</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Edwin L. Sabin</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Illustrator: Charles H. Stephens</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: January 07, 2021 [eBook #64231]</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Character set encoding: UTF-8</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Produced by: Donald Cummings, from images generously made available by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.</div> - -<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BUFFALO BILL AND THE OVERLAND TRAIL ***</div> - - -<div class="figcenter" id="cover"> - <img src="images/cover.jpg" alt="cover" title="cover" /> -</div> - - - - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p class="noi halftitle">BUFFALO BILL AND THE<br /> -OVERLAND TRAIL</p> -</div> - - - - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p class="noi adtitle"><i>The American Trail Blazers</i></p> -</div> - -<p class="noic">“THE STORY GRIPS AND THE HISTORY STICKS”</p> - - -<p class="p2 noi">These books present in the form of vivid and fascinating -fiction, the early and adventurous phases of American -history. Each volume deals with the life and adventures -of one of the great men who made that history, or with -some one great event in which, perhaps, several heroic -characters were involved. The stories, though based upon -accurate historical fact, are rich in color, full of dramatic -action, and appeal to the imagination of the red-blooded -man or boy.</p> - -<p class="noic">Each volume illustrated in color and black and white.</p> - -<ul> -<li class="hang">INTO MEXICO WITH GENERAL SCOTT</li> - -<li class="hang">LOST WITH LIEUTENANT PIKE</li> - -<li class="hang">GENERAL CROOK AND THE FIGHTING APACHES</li> - -<li class="hang">OPENING THE WEST WITH LEWIS AND CLARK</li> - -<li class="hang">WITH CARSON AND FRÉMONT</li> - -<li class="hang">DANIEL BOONE: BACKWOODSMAN</li> - -<li class="hang">BUFFALO BILL AND THE OVERLAND TRAIL</li> - -<li class="hang">CAPTAIN JOHN SMITH</li> - -<li class="hang">DAVID CROCKETT: SCOUT</li> - -<li class="hang">ON THE PLAINS WITH CUSTER</li> - -<li class="hang">GOLD SEEKERS OF ’49</li> - -<li class="hang">WITH SAM HOUSTON IN TEXAS</li> - -<li class="hang">WITH GEORGE WASHINGTON INTO THE WILDERNESS</li> - -<li class="hang">IN THE RANKS OF OLD HICKORY</li> -</ul> - - - - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<div class="figcenter" id="i_frontis"> - <img src="images/i_frontis.jpg" alt="" title="" /> - <div class="caption"> - <p class="noic"><a href="#Page_29">AS LAME BUFFALO HAD SAID, THE “LITTLE ONE” SHOT THE -STRAIGHTEST OF ANY</a></p> - </div> -</div> -</div> - - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h1>BUFFALO BILL<br /> -<small>AND THE</small><br /> -OVERLAND TRAIL</h1> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p class="noi subtitle">BEING THE STORY OF HOW BOY AND MAN WORKED HARD -AND PLAYED HARD TO BLAZE THE WHITE TRAIL, BY -WAGON TRAIN, STAGE COACH AND PONY EXPRESS, ACROSS -THE GREAT PLAINS AND THE MOUNTAINS BEYOND, THAT -THE AMERICAN REPUBLIC MIGHT EXPAND AND FLOURISH</p> -</div> - -<p class="p2 noic">BY<br /> -<span class="noi author">EDWIN L. SABIN</span></p> - -<p class="noi works">AUTHOR OF “WITH CARSON AND FRÉMONT,”<br /> -“ON THE PLAINS WITH CUSTER,” ETC.</p> - -<p class="p2 noic"><i>WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY</i><br /> -<span class="author">CHARLES H. STEPHENS</span><br /> -<i>AND A PORTRAIT</i></p> - -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">I hear the tread of pioneers</div> - <div class="verse indent2">Of nations yet to be—</div> - <div class="verse indent0">The first low wash of waves where soon</div> - <div class="verse indent2">Shall roll a human sea.</div> - <div class="right">—<span class="smcap">Whittier.</span></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class="pad2"> -<div class="logocenter" id="logo"> - <img src="images/logo.jpg" alt="logo" title="logo" /> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noic">PHILADELPHIA & LONDON</p> - -<p class="noic adauthor">J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY</p> - - - - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p class="noic">COPYRIGHT, 1914, BY J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY</p> - -<p class="p2 noic">SEVENTEENTH IMPRESSION</p> - -<p class="p6 noic">PRINTED IN UNITED STATES OF AMERICA</p> -</div> - - - - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p class="noic allsmcap">TO THE</p> - -<p class="noic">OLD-TIME PLAINS FREIGHTERS</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p class="noi subtitle">WHO UNDER THE ROUGH TITLE, “BULL WHACKERS,” PLODDING -AT THREE MILES AN HOUR, BRIDGED WITH THEIR -CANVAS-COVERED SUPPLY WAGONS THE THOUSAND HOSTILE -MILES WHICH SEPARATED DESTITUTION FROM PLENTY</p> -</div> -</div> - - - - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_7"></a>[7]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak">FOREWORD</h2> -</div> - - -<p>History is the record made by men and women; so -the story of the western plains is the story of Buffalo -Bill and of those other hard workers who with their -deeds and even with their lives bought the great country -for the use of us to-day.</p> - -<p>The half of what Buffalo Bill did, in the days of -the Overland Trail, has never been told, and of course -cannot be told in one short book. He began very -young, before the days of the Overland Stage; and he -was needed long after the railroad had followed the -stage. The days when the Great Plains were being -opened to civilized people required brave men and -boys—yes, and brave women and girls, too. There -was glory enough for all. Everything related in this -book happened to Buffalo Bill, or to those persons who -shared in his dangers and his deeds. And while he -may not remember the other boy, Dave Scott, whom -he inspired to be brave also, he will be glad to know -that he helped Davy to be a man.</p> - -<p>That is one great reward in life: to inspire and -encourage others.</p> - -<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Edwin L. Sabin</span></p> - -<p class="smfont"><span class="smcap">San Diego, California</span>, June 1, 1914</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_8"></a>[8]</span></p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_9"></a>[9]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak">CONTENTS</h2> -</div> - - -<table border="0" cellpadding="5" cellspacing="0" summary="Contents"> -<col style="width: 15%;" /> -<col style="width: 70%;" /> -<col style="width: 15%;" /> -<tr> - <th class="smfontr">CHAPTER</th> - <th class="tdl"></th> - <th class="smfontr">PAGE</th> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdrt">I.</td> - <td class="tdl smcap"><a href="#I">Tall Bull Signals: “Enemies!”</a></td> - <td class="tdrb">17</td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdrt">II.</td> - <td class="tdl smcap"><a href="#II">The Hero of the Mule Fort</a></td> - <td class="tdrb">30</td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdrt">III.</td> - <td class="tdl smcap"><a href="#III">With the Wagon Train</a></td> - <td class="tdrb">42</td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdrt">IV.</td> - <td class="tdl smcap"><a href="#IV">Visiting Billy Cody</a></td> - <td class="tdrb">58</td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdrt">V.</td> - <td class="tdl smcap"><a href="#V">Davy Goes on Herd</a></td> - <td class="tdrb">71</td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdrt">VI.</td> - <td class="tdl smcap"><a href="#VI">Davy Has an Adventure</a></td> - <td class="tdrb">83</td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdrt">VII.</td> - <td class="tdl smcap"><a href="#VII">Davy Changes Jobs</a></td> - <td class="tdrb">100</td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdrt">VIII.</td> - <td class="tdl smcap"><a href="#VIII">The Gold Fever</a></td> - <td class="tdrb">114</td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdrt">IX.</td> - <td class="tdl smcap"><a href="#IX">The Hee-Haw Express</a></td> - <td class="tdrb">127</td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdrt">X.</td> - <td class="tdl smcap"><a href="#X">“Pike’s Peak or Bust”</a></td> - <td class="tdrb">140</td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdrt">XI.</td> - <td class="tdl smcap"><a href="#XI">Some Halts by the Way</a></td> - <td class="tdrb">157</td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdrt">XII.</td> - <td class="tdl smcap"><a href="#XII">Perils for the Hee-Haws</a></td> - <td class="tdrb">171</td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdrt">XIII.</td> - <td class="tdl smcap"><a href="#XIII">The Cherry Creek Diggin’s</a></td> - <td class="tdrb">188</td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdrt">XIV.</td> - <td class="tdl smcap"><a href="#XIV">Davy Signs as “Extra”</a></td> - <td class="tdrb">204</td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdrt">XV.</td> - <td class="tdl smcap"><a href="#XV">Freighting Across the Plains</a></td> - <td class="tdrb">218</td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdrt">XVI.</td> - <td class="tdl smcap"><a href="#XVI">Yank Raises Trouble</a></td> - <td class="tdrb">231</td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdrt">XVII.</td> - <td class="tdl smcap"><a href="#XVII">Davy “The Bull Whacker”</a></td> - <td class="tdrb">244</td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdrt">XVIII.</td> - <td class="tdl smcap"><a href="#XVIII">Billy Cody Turns Up Again</a></td> - <td class="tdrb">257</td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdrt">XIX.</td> - <td class="tdl smcap"><a href="#XIX">Davy Makes Another Change</a></td> - <td class="tdrb">267</td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdrt">XX.</td> - <td class="tdl smcap"><a href="#XX">Fast Time to California</a></td> - <td class="tdrb">280</td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdrt">XXI.</td> - <td class="tdl smcap"><a href="#XXI">“Pony Express Bill”</a></td> - <td class="tdrb">293</td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdrt">XXII.</td> - <td class="tdl smcap"><a href="#XXII">Carrying the Great News</a></td> - <td class="tdrb">305</td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdrt">XXIII.</td> - <td class="tdl smcap"><a href="#XXIII">A Brush on the Overland Stage</a></td> - <td class="tdrb">318</td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdrt">XXIV.</td> - <td class="tdl smcap"><a href="#XXIV">Buffalo Bill Is Champion</a></td> - <td class="tdrb">336</td> -</tr> -</table> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_10"></a>[10]</span></p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_11"></a>[11]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak">ILLUSTRATIONS</h2> -</div> - - -<table border="0" cellpadding="5" cellspacing="0" summary="Illustrations"> -<col style="width: 85%;" /> -<col style="width: 15%;" /> -<tr> - <th> </th> - <th class="smfontr">PAGE</th> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl"><div class="noi hang"><a href="#i_frontis">As Lame Buffalo Had Said, the “Little One” Shot the - Straightest of Any</a> <span class="flright"><i>Frontispiece</i></span></div></td> - <td class="tdrb"> </td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl hang"><a href="#i_fp012">William Frederick Cody (“Buffalo Bill”)</a></td> - <td class="tdrb">13</td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl hang"><a href="#i_fp098">“Two; Give Two,” he Urged, Meaningly. “Take Rest”</a></td> - <td class="tdrb">98</td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl hang"><a href="#i_fp154">“Give It to Them! Split ’em! Split ’em!”</a></td> - <td class="tdrb">155</td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl hang"><a href="#i_fp260">“Why—Hello, Billy! Is That You?”</a></td> - <td class="tdrb">261</td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl hang"><a href="#i_fp334">“That’s Right. Fight ’em off, Davy”</a></td> - <td class="tdrb">334</td> -</tr> -</table> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_12"></a>[12]</span></p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<div class="figcenter" id="i_fp012"> - <img src="images/i_fp012.jpg" alt="" title="" /> - <div class="caption"> - <p class="noic"><a href="#Page_13">WILLIAM FEDERICK CODY</a></p> - <p class="noic">“BUFFALO BILL”</p> - <p class="noic">From a photograph taken in 1871, in the possession of Clarence S. Paine, Esq.</p> - </div> -</div> -</div> - - - - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_13"></a>[13]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak">CHRONOLOGICAL TABLE</h2> -</div> - - -<p class="noic"><a href="#i_fp012">WILLIAM FREDERICK CODY</a></p> - -<p class="noi works">“BUFFALO BILL”</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p class="noi">Celebrated American plains-day express rider, -hunter, guide and army scout, who before he was -fourteen years of age had won credit for man’s -pluck and shrewdness. In his youth a dutiful -and helpful son; in his later years an exhibitor -of Wild West scenes, with which he has toured -the world. Early known as “Will,” “Little Billy,” -“Pony Express Bill,” “Scout Bill Cody”; by the -Indians termed “Pa-he-haska” (“Long Hair”); but, -the globe around, famed as “Buffalo Bill.”</p> -</div> - -<p>Born on the family farm near LeClaire, Scott County, -Eastern Iowa, February 26, 1845.</p> - -<p>Father: Isaac Cody. Mother: Mary Ann Cody.</p> - -<p>Childhood spent in Scott County, Iowa: at LeClaire and at -Walnut Grove.</p> - -<p>When eight years old, in 1853, is removed with the family -overland to Kansas.</p> - -<p>In the Salt Creek Valley, near the Kickapoo Indian reservation -and Fort Leavenworth, Eastern Kansas, Mr. Cody takes up -a claim and is Indian trader.</p> - -<p>Young William is reared among the Free State troubles -of 1853–1861, when the slave men and the anti-slave men strove -against one another to obtain possession of Kansas. Mr. Cody, -the father, was of the Free State party.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_14"></a>[14]</span></p> - -<p>Aged 10, summer of 1855, Billy engages at $25 a month to -herd cattle, just outside of Leavenworth, for the freighting -firm of Russell & Majors. Gives the money, $50, to his mother.</p> - -<p>Is instructed at home by Miss Jennie Lyons, the family -teacher; attends district school.</p> - -<p>Aged 11, summer of 1856, makes his first trip into the plains, -as herder for a Russell, Majors & Waddell bull train.</p> - -<p>Continues his cattle herding; and aged 12, in May, 1857, -makes another trip across the plains, as herder for the cattle -with a Russell, Majors & Waddell outfit bound for Salt Lake, -Utah. Has his first Indian fight.</p> - -<p>The same summer of 1857, is “extra man” with another -Russell, Majors & Waddell wagon train for Utah. Returning, -has his second Indian fight.</p> - -<p>Arrives home again, summer of 1858. Becomes assistant -wagon master with a fourth train, for Fort Laramie.</p> - -<p>Fall of 1858, aged 13, joins a company of trappers out of -Fort Laramie.</p> - -<p>Winter and spring of 1859, attends school again, to please -his mother.</p> - -<p>To the Pike’s Peak country for gold, 1859.</p> - -<p>Returns home to see his mother; and then spends winter of -1859–1860 trapping beaver in central Kansas.</p> - -<p>Rides Pony Express, 1860–1861. The youngest rider on the -line.</p> - -<p>Ranger, dispatch bearer, and scout in the Union service, in -Kansas, Missouri and the Southwest, 1861–1863.</p> - -<p>Enlisted in Seventh Kansas Volunteer Infantry, 1864, and -serves with it until close of the war.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_15"></a>[15]</span></p> - -<p>Stage driver between Kearney, Nebraska, and Plum Creek, -35 miles west, 1865–1866.</p> - -<p>Marries, March 6, 1866, Miss Louisa Frederici of St. Louis.</p> - -<p>Proprietor of Golden Rule House hotel at his old home in -Salt Creek Valley, Kansas, 1866.</p> - -<p>Government scout at Fort Ellsworth, Fort Fletcher, and -Fort Hays, Kansas, 1866–1867.</p> - -<p>With William Rose, a construction contractor, promotes -the town-site of Rome, near Fort Hays, 1867. Rome is eclipsed -by Hayes City, its rival.</p> - -<p>Earns title “Buffalo Bill” by supplying the work gang -of the Kansas Pacific Railroad with buffalo, 1867–1868. In 18 -months kills 4,280 buffalo.</p> - -<p>Becomes Government scout with headquarters at Fort Larned, -1868. Performs some remarkable endurance rides between the -posts on the Arkansas and those on the Kansas Pacific line. -Once covers 355 miles, in 58 hours of riding by day and by -night.</p> - -<p>Appointed by General Sheridan guide and chief scout for -the Fifth Cavalry, 1868.</p> - -<p>Serves with the Fifth Cavalry on various expeditions, 1868–1872. -Also acts as guide for numerous sportsmen parties.</p> - -<p>Temporary justice of the peace at Fort McPherson, -Nebraska, 1871.</p> - -<p>Guide for the Grand Duke Alexis of Russia, on a celebrated -hunting tour in the West, 1872.</p> - -<p>Guide for the Third Cavalry, at Fort McPherson, 1872. -Acts as guide for the Earl of Dunraven, and other distinguished -sportsmen.</p> - -<p>Elected on the Democratic ticket to the Nebraska Legislature, -1872.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_16"></a>[16]</span></p> - -<p>Resigns from the Legislature and in the winter of 1872–1873 -stars, with Texas Jack, as an actor in “The Scouts of the -Plains,” a melodrama by Ned Buntline.</p> - -<p>Organizes the “Buffalo Bill Combination,” with Texas Jack -and Wild Bill, and plays melodrama in the Eastern cities, 1873–1874.</p> - -<p>During 1874–1876 continues to be scout, guide and actor, -according to the season.</p> - -<p>Takes the field again in earnest as scout for the Fifth -Cavalry, against the Sioux, spring of 1876. Fights his noted -duel with Chief Yellow Hand.</p> - -<p>In partnership with Major Frank North, of the Pawnee -Government Scouts, establishes a cattle ranch near North Platte, -Nebraska, 1877.</p> - -<p>Seasons of 1876–1877–1878 resumes his theatrical tours in -Western melodrama, portraying the late Sioux War and the -incidents of the Mountain Meadow Massacre (1857).</p> - -<p>Takes up residence at North Platte, Nebraska, spring of -1878. Continues to hunt, ranch, and act; writes his autobiography -and his own plays.</p> - -<p>In 1883 organizes his justly celebrated “Wild West” combination, -with which for three years he tours the United States. -In 1886 he takes it to England, and in 1889 to the Continent.</p> - -<p>In 1888 appointed brigadier general of the National Guard -of Nebraska.</p> - -<p>In 1890 he again serves as chief scout, under General Nelson -A. Miles, against the Sioux.</p> - -<p>Since then, the “Wild West Show,” known also as the -“Congress of Rough Riders of the World,” has continued its -career as a spectacle and an education. Colonel Cody (still -known as “Buffalo Bill”) is ranked as one of America’s leading -characters in public life. He has shown what a boy can do -to win honor and success, even if he starts in as only a cattle-herder, -with little schooling and no money.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_17"></a>[17]</span></p> - -<p class="noi title">BUFFALO BILL AND THE<br /> -OVERLAND TRAIL</p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="I">I<br /> -<small>TALL BULL SIGNALS: “ENEMIES!”</small></h2> -</div> - - -<p>Since early dawn forty Indians and one little red-headed -white boy had been riding amidst the yellow -gullies and green table-lands of western Nebraska, -about where the North Platte and the South Platte -Rivers come together. The most of these Indians were -Cheyennes; the others were a few Arapahoes and two -or three Sioux. The name of the little red-headed -boy was David Scott.</p> - -<p>He was guarded by the two squaws who had been -brought along to work for the thirty-eight men. They -worked for the men, little Dave worked for <em>them</em>; -and frequently they struck him, and told him that -when the Cheyenne village was reached again he would -be burnt.</p> - -<p>In the bright sunshine, amidst the great expanse -of open, uninhabited country, the Indian column, riding -with its scouts out, made a gallant sight. The -ponies, bay, dun, black, white, spotted, were adorned<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_18"></a>[18]</span> -with paint, gay streamers and jingly pendants. The -men were bareheaded and bare bodied; on this warm -day of June they had thrown off their robes and -blankets. But what they lacked in clothing, they supplied -in decoration.</p> - -<p>Down the parting of the smoothly-combed black -hair was run vermilion; vermilion and ochre and blue -and white and black streaked coppery forehead, high -cheek-bones and firm chin, and lay lavishly over brawny -chest and sinewy arms. At the parting of the braids -were stuck feathers—common feathers for the braves, -tipped eagle feathers for the chiefs. The long braids -themselves were wrapped in otter-skin and red flannel. -From ears hung copper and brass and silver -pendants. Upon wrists and upper arms were broad -bracelets and armlets of copper. Upon feet were -beaded moccasins worked in tribal designs. The fashion -of the paint and the style of the moccasins it was -which said that these riders were Cheyennes.</p> - -<p>The column had no household baggage and no -children (except little Dave) and no dogs; and it had -no women other than just the two. The men were -painted and although they rode bareheaded, from the -saddle-horn of many tossed crested, feathered bonnets -with long tails. These were war-bonnets. All -the bows were short, thick bows. These were war-bows. -All the arrows in the full quivers were barbed -arrows. Hunting arrows were smooth. The lances -were tufted and showy. The shields, slung to left<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_19"></a>[19]</span> -arm, were the thick, boastfully painted war shields. -The ponies were picked ponies; war ponies. Yes, -anybody with half an eye could have read that this -was a war party, not a hunting party or a village on -the move.</p> - -<p>Davy could have proven it. Wasn’t he here, riding -between two mean squaws? And look at the -plunder, from white people—some of it from his own -uncle and aunt, all of it from the “whoa-haw” trains, -as the Indians had named the ox-wagon columns of -the emigrants and freighters.</p> - -<p>Ever since, two weeks back, these Cheyennes had -so suddenly out-charged upon his uncle’s wagon and -another, strayed from the main column, they had been -looking for more “whoa-haws.” This year, 1858, and -the preceding half dozen years had been fine ones for -Indians in search of plunder. Thousands of white -people were crossing the plains, between the Missouri -River and the Rocky Mountains; their big canvas-covered -wagons contained curious and valuable things, -as well as women and children. They were drawn by -cattle and horses or mules, and behind followed large -bands of other cattle and horses and mules. Sometimes -these “whoa-haw” people fought stoutly, sometimes -they had no chance to fight—as had been the -case with little Dave’s uncle.</p> - -<p>Tall Bull was the young chief in charge of the -squad that had attacked the two wagons. Now Tall -Bull was one of the scouts riding on the flanks and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_20"></a>[20]</span> -ahead of the war party, so as to spy out the country. -In his two weeks with the Cheyennes Dave had learned -them well. They were no fools. They rode cunningly. -They were disciplined. While they kept to the low -country their scouts skirted the edges of the higher -country, in order to see far. By wave of blanket or -movement of horse these keen-eyed scouts could -signal back for more than a mile, and every Indian in -the column could read the signs. Then the head chief, -Cut Nose, would grunt an order, and his young men -would obey.</p> - -<p>The march was threading the bottom of a bushy -ravine. Cut Nose, head chief, led; Bear-Who-Walks -and Lame Buffalo, sub-chiefs, rode with him. Behind -filed the long column. In the rear of all trailed the -two squaws, guarding the miserable Davy.</p> - -<p>Suddenly adown the column travelled, in one great -writhe, a commotion. A scout, to the right, ahead, -was signalling. He was Tall Bull. His figure, of -painted self and mottled pony, was plainly outlined just -at the juncture of brushy rim and sky. Now he had -dismounted, and had crept forward, half stooped, as -if the better to see, the less to be seen. But back he -scurried, more under cover of the ravine edge; standing -he snatched his buffalo robe from about his waist -and swung it with the gesture that meant “Somebody -in sight!”</p> - -<p>He sprang to his spotted pony, and down he came, -riding in a slow zigzag and making little circles, too.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_21"></a>[21]</span> -The slow zigzag meant “No hurry” and the little -circles meant “Not many strangers.” And he signed -with his hand.</p> - -<p>However, large party or small party, the news -was very welcome. All the other scouts sped to see -what Tall Bull had seen. From side ravines out rushed -at gallop the little exploring detachments. ’Twas -astonishing how fast the news spread. The two squaws -jabbered eagerly; and the aides of Cut Nose went -galloping to reconnoitre.</p> - -<p>As for Cut Nose himself, he halted, and thereby -halted the column, while he composedly sat to receive -reports. The rear gradually pressed forward to hear, -and the squaws strained their ears. Davy could not -understand, but this is what was said, by sign and -word, when Tall Bull had arrived:</p> - -<p>“What is it?”</p> - -<p>“White men, on horses.”</p> - -<p>“How many?”</p> - -<p>“Three.”</p> - -<p>“How far?”</p> - -<p>“A short pony ride.”</p> - -<p>“What are they doing?”</p> - -<p>“Travelling.”</p> - -<p>“Any baggage?”</p> - -<p>“No.”</p> - -<p>“Are they armed?”</p> - -<p>“Yes. Guns.”</p> - -<p>Cut Nose grunted. Now Lame Buffalo, sub-chief,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_22"></a>[22]</span> -came scouring back. He had seen the three men. It -was as Tall Bull had said. Two of the men were -large, one was small. They were riding mules, and -were dressed in “whoa-haw” clothes, so they were -not trappers or hunters, but probably belonged to that -“whoa-haw” train of many men that the column had -sighted travelling east. They were riding as if they -wished to catch it. But they could be reached easily, -said Lame Buffalo, his black eyes blazing. Blazed the -black eyes of all; and fiercest were the snappy black -eyes of the two squaws. The three “whoa-haws” -could be reached easily by following up a side ravine -that would lead out almost within bow-shot. Then -the white men would be cut off in the midst of a flat -open place where they could not hide.</p> - -<p>“Good,” grunted Cut Nose; and he issued short, -rapid orders. Little Dave had not understood the words -but he could understand the gestures and signs that -made up more than half the talk; and he could understand -the bustle that followed. The Cheyennes, the -few Arapahoes and Sioux, were preparing themselves -for battle.</p> - -<p>Blankets and robes were thrown looser. Leggings -were kicked off, to leave the limbs still freer. The -rawhide loops by which the riders might hang to the -far side of their ponies were hastily tested. Quivers -were jerked into more convenient position. Arrows -were loosened in them. The unstrung bows were -strung. The two warriors who had old guns freshened<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_23"></a>[23]</span> -the priming and readjusted the caps upon the nipples. -Several of the younger warriors hurriedly slashed face -and chest anew with paint. War bonnets were set -upon heads; their feathered tails fell nearly to the -ground.</p> - -<p>With a single eagle glance adown his force Cut -Nose, raising his hand as signal, dashed away up the -ravine. After him dashed all his array, even to the -two squaws and little Dave.</p> - -<p>Braids tossed, hoofs thudded, war bonnets -streamed, and every painted rider leaned forward, avid -for the exit and the attack. Dave’s heart beat high. -He was afraid for the white men. The Cheyennes -were so many, so eager, and so fierce.</p> - -<p>The scouts before kept signing that all was well. -The white men evidently were riding unconscious of a -foe close at hand. At the side ravine Cut Nose darted -in. Its farther end was closed by brush and low plum -trees, which rose to fringe the plateau above. A scout -was here, peering, watching the field. He was Yellow -Hand, son of Cut Nose. He signalled “Come! Quick! -Enemy here!”</p> - -<p>Thus urged, up the slope galloped Cut Nose, Lame -Buffalo, Bear-Who-Walks; galloped all. At the -top, emerging, Cut Nose flung high his hand, shaking -his war bow. Over the top after him poured the racing -mass, savage in paint and cloth and feather and -decorated weapon. Swept onward with them rode little<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_24"></a>[24]</span> -Dave, jostled between the two squaws, who whipped -his pony as often as they whipped their own.</p> - -<p>The halloo of Cut Nose rose vibrant.</p> - -<p>“Hi-yi-yi-yi-yi; yip yip yip!” he whooped, exultant -and threatening.</p> - -<p>“Hi-yi-yi-yi-yi; yip yip yip!” yelped every rider, -the squaws chiming in more piercingly than any others.</p> - -<p>Out from the plum tree grove and into the plateau -they had burst, and went charging furiously.</p> - -<p>The sun was shining bright, for the day was -glorious June. The plateau lay bare, save for the grass -dried by weather and the few clumps of sage and -greasewood. And there they were, the three whites, -stopped short, staring and for the moment uncertain -what to do.</p> - -<p>They were alone, between bending blue sky and -wide plain; a little trio in the midst of a vast expanse. -As the scouts had claimed, no shelter was near. At -the other edge of the plateau flowed the North Platte -River, but too distant to be reached now.</p> - -<p>Louder pealed the whoops of the warriors, louder -shrieked the shrill voices of the squaws, as onward -charged, headlong, the wild company, to ride over the -white dogs and snatch scalp and weapon.</p> - -<p>Almost within gunshot swept forward the attack. -Already had spoken, recklessly, with “Bang! Bang!” -the guns in the hands of the two excited warriors. -Were the white men going to run, or stand? They -were going to stand, for they had vaulted to ground.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_25"></a>[25]</span> -One of them was small enough to be a boy. Three -puffs of blue smoke jetted from them. The leading -Indians ducked low—but the shots had not been for -them! Look! Down had dropped the three mules, to -lie kicking and struggling.</p> - -<p>The white men (yes, one was a boy!) bent over -them, stoutly dragging and shoving; and next, in behind -the bodies they had crouched. Only the tops of -their broad hats and their shoulders could be described, -and their gun muzzles projecting before. This, then, -was their fort: the three dead mules arranged in -triangle! Evidently the two men, and perhaps the boy, -had fought Indians before. Davy felt like cheering; -but from the forty throats rang a great shout of rage -and menace. The squaws had halted, with Dave, to -watch; unchecked and unafraid the warriors forged -on, straight for the little barricade.</p> - -<p>“Kill! Kill!” shrieked the squaws, glaring.</p> - -<p>The warriors were shooting in earnest; arrows -flew, the two guns again belched. The charge seemed -almost upon the fort, when from it puffed the jets -of smoke. “Bang! Bang! Bang!” drifted dully the -reports; and with scarce an interval followed other jets, -rapid and sharp: “Bang! Bang-bang! Bang! Bang!”</p> - -<p>From the painted, parted lips of the two squaws issued -a wilder, different note, and little Dave again -felt like cheering; for from their saddles had lurched -three of the Cheyennes, and a pony also had pitched -in a heap.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_26"></a>[26]</span></p> - -<p>Cut Nose swerved; he and every warrior flung -themselves to the pony side opposite the fort, and -parting, the column split as if the fort were a wedge. -In two wings they went scouring right and left of it. -Around and around the mule-body triangle they rode, -at top speed, in a great double circle, plying their bows.</p> - -<p>Their arrows streamed in a continuous shower, -pelting the fort. They struck, quivering, in the mule -bodies and in the ground. Now from every savage -throat rang another shout—high, derisive. On their -ponies the squaws capered, and shook their blanket -ends. An arrow was quivering in a new spot—the -shoulder of one of the whites. Now Davy felt like -sobbing. But it was not in the shoulder of the boy; -it was in the shoulder of the man beyond him, and -facing the other way. However, that was bad enough.</p> - -<p>Still, the man was not disabled; not he. His gun -remain levelled, and neither the boy nor the other -man paid any attention to him. The three occasionally -shot, but lying low against their ponies’ sides the -Indians, galloping fast, were hard to hit.</p> - -<p>Cut Nose raised his hand again, and from the circle -he veered outward. The circle instantly scattered, -and after their chief galloped every warrior.</p> - -<p>Forward hammered the two squaws, with vengeful -look at little Dave which bade him not to lag. The -warriors had gathered in a group, out of gunshot from -the fort. Cut Nose was furious. Indians hate to lose<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_27"></a>[27]</span> -warriors; and there were three, and a pony, stretched -upon the plain.</p> - -<p>“Are you all old women?” scolded Chief Cut -Nose, while Dave tried to guess at what was being -shouted, and his two guardians pressed to the edge -of the circle. “You let three whites, one of whom is -very little, beat us? The dogs will bark at us when we -go back and the squaws will whip us through the -village. Everybody at home will laugh. They will -say: ‘These are not Cheyennes. They are sick -Osages! They are afraid to take a scalp, and when -an enemy points a stick at them, they run!’ Bah! Am -I a chief, and are you warriors, or are we all ghosts?”</p> - -<p>Panting, the warriors listened. They murmured -and shrugged, as the words stung.</p> - -<p>“Those whites shoot very straight. The little one -shoots the straightest of any. They must have many -guns. They shoot once and without loading they shoot -again,” argued Lame Buffalo.</p> - -<p>“You talk foolish,” thundered Cut Nose. “These -whites cannot keep shooting. All we need to do is to -charge swift and not stop, and when we reach them -their guns will be empty. Shall Cheyennes draw back -and leave three brothers and a good pony lying on the -prairie? These whites will go on and join their whoa-haw -train, and tell how they three, from behind dead -mules, fought off the whole Cheyenne nation! Or shall -we send our squaws against them, to kill them! The -little white boy will laugh,” and he pointed at Dave.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_28"></a>[28]</span> -“He will not want to be a Cheyenne; he will stay -white. Cheyennes are cowards.”</p> - -<p>Through the jostling company ran a hot murmur; -but Lame Buffalo, especially scolded, almost burst.</p> - -<p>“No!” he yelled. “Cheyennes are not cowards! -I am a Cheyenne. I can kill those three whites myself. -I will go alone. I ask no help.”</p> - -<p>He whirled his pony; he burst from the dense ring, -and tossing high his plumed lance, with a tremendous -shout he launched himself straight for the mule fort. -He did not ride alone; no, indeed! Answering his -shout, and imitating his gesture, every warrior followed, -vying to outstrip him. Now woe for the whites. -Dave’s heart beat so as well-nigh to choke him. His -eyes leaped to the fort.</p> - -<p>The two men and the boy in the little triangle had -been busy. They had rearranged the carcasses to give -more protection; the arrow had been pulled from the -shoulder of the wounded man; he was as alert as if he -had not been hurt at all; and over the mule bodies -jutted the gun muzzles, trained upon the Indian charge.</p> - -<p>Could that tiny low triangle formed by three dead -mules outlast such a yelling, tearing mob, sweeping -down upon it? Could it beat back Lame Buffalo alone—that -splendid feather-crowned horseman, riding like -a demon, shouting like a wolf? He still led, and with -every few jumps of his pony he shook his lance and -whooped.</p> - -<p>Well might those three whites in the mule triangle<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_29"></a>[29]</span> -be afraid, at last; and who could blame the boy, there, -if he, particularly, was afraid? It was a bad place -for a boy. Dave watched him anxiously, and wondered.</p> - -<p>The boy was facing toward the charge; the two -men also were facing outward, to right and left of -him, that they might cover the charge as it spread.</p> - -<p>Up rose the boy’s gun; the two men seemed to be -waiting upon him. He was aiming, but he would not -shoot yet, would he, with the Indians so far off?</p> - -<p>Yet, he shot! His gun muzzle puffed smoke. The -squaws started, cried out, waved frantic hands—for -three hundred yards from the muzzle had toppled, -toppled from his pony, Lame Buffalo, smitten in mid-course! -It seemed to Dave that he could hear the -two white men cheering; but to the cries of the squaws -were added the terrific yells of the warriors, drowning -out every other sound.</p> - -<p>Nevertheless, that was a long, long shot, for boy -or man; and a <em>good</em> shot. The charge split again; and -not daring even to pick up Lame Buffalo, who was -crawling painfully and pressing a hand to his side, -it circled around and around the mule fort, as before.</p> - -<p><a href="#i_frontis">As Lame Buffalo had said, the “little one” shot -the straightest of any.</a></p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_30"></a>[30]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="II">II<br /> -<small>THE HERO OF THE MULE FORT</small></h2> -</div> - - -<p>Cut Nose signalled his band to council again. Four -warriors had fallen, and two ponies. Now at a safe -distance from that venomous, spit-fire little fort, they -all dismounted, except for a few scouts, and squatted -for a long confab.</p> - -<p>“Kill! Kill!” implored the two squaws.</p> - -<p>“Shut up!” rebuked Cut Nose; and they only -wailed about the dead.</p> - -<p>On the outskirts of the council, and annoyed by -the wailing of the squaws, Dave could not hear all -the discussion. Cut Nose asked the sub-chiefs for -their opinion what to do; and one after another spoke.</p> - -<p>“There is no use in charging white men behind a -fort,” said Bear-Who-Walks. “We lose too many -warriors, any one of whom is worth more than all the -white men on the plains. It is not a good way to -fight. I like to fight, man to man, in the open. If we -wait long enough, we can kill those three whites when -their hearts are weak with thirst and hunger.”</p> - -<p>“They have medicine guns,” declared Yellow -Hand. “They have guns that are never empty. No -matter how much they shoot, they can always shoot<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_31"></a>[31]</span> -more. The great spirit of the white people is helping -them. It is some kind of magic.”</p> - -<p>At this, Dave wanted to laugh. The two white -men and the white boy were shooting with revolvers -that held six loads each, and the Cheyennes could not -understand. The only guns that the Indians had were -two old muskets which had to be reloaded after every -shot.</p> - -<p>“We will wait,” said Cut Nose. “We have -plenty of time. The whoa-haws in front will travel on, -leaving these three whites. We will wait, and watch, -and when they have eaten their fort and their tongues -are hanging out for water, we will ride to them and -scalp them before they die. That is the easiest way.”</p> - -<p>Some of the warriors did not favor waiting; the -two squaws wept and moaned and claimed that the -spirits of the slain braves were unhappy because those -three whites still lived. But nobody made a decisive -move; they all preferred to squat and talk and rest -their ponies and themselves.</p> - -<p>Meanwhile, in the mule body triangle the two men -and the boy had been busy. They did not waste any -time, talking and boasting. It was to be seen that they -were digging hard with their knives, and heaping the -dirt on top of the mule bodies, and between them. An -old warrior noted this.</p> - -<p>“See,” he bade. “The fort is stronger than ever. -But by night the wind will change and we can make -the whites eat fire. That is a good plan.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_32"></a>[32]</span></p> - -<p>“Yes,” they agreed. “Let us wait till dark. -White men behind a fort in daytime are very hard to -kill. There is no hurry.”</p> - -<p>The afternoon passed. The Indians chewed dried -buffalo meat, and squads of them rode to the river and -watered the horses. While lounging about they -amused themselves by yelling insults at the mule fort; -and now and again little charges were made, by small -parties, who swooped as close as they dared, and shot -a few arrows.</p> - -<p>The two men and the boy rarely replied. They, -also, waited. Their barricade was so high, that in the -trench behind it they were completely sheltered.</p> - -<p>But over them and over the field of battle constantly -circled two great black buzzards. Lame Buffalo -had ceased to crawl, and lay still. The squaws -begged the young warriors to go out and bring him in—him -and the other stricken braves. The young men -only laughed and shook their heads. One did dash forward; -but a bullet from the gun of the boy grazed his -scalp-lock, and ducking he scurried back faster than -he had gone!</p> - -<p>That boy certainly was cool and brave and sharp-sighted. -Dave was proud of him; for Dave, also, was -white, and a boy.</p> - -<p>So the afternoon wore away. Evening neared. -The sun, a large red ball, sank into the flat plains. A -beautiful golden twilight spread abroad, tinging the -sod and the sky. The world seemed all peaceful; but<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_33"></a>[33]</span> -here in the midst of the twilight were waiting and -watching the painted Cheyennes, as eager as ever to -get at those three persons in the mule fort. This twilight, -Dave imagined, must be a very serious moment -for the fort. The twilight warned that night was at -hand.</p> - -<p>Dusk settled, and deepened into darkness. The -Sioux made no camp-fires. Davy wrapped himself in -an old buffalo-robe, and guarded by the two squaws, -one on either side of him, tried not to sleep. As he -listened, while he gazed up at the million stars, and the -plains breeze fanned across his face, he wondered what -the boy in the mule fort was doing. No doubt he was -listening, too, and wishing that the stars would come -down and help, or else send a message to those freight -wagons which were travelling on.</p> - -<p>Davy must have dropped off to sleep, in spite of -himself; because suddenly he was aroused by the -squaws sitting up and jabbering. Had morning come? -The plains yonder were light. No; that was fire! -The Cheyennes, just as they had planned, had set the -grass afire, to windward of the mule fort. While -Davy, too, sat up, his heart beating wildly, the fire -seemed to be sweeping right toward the fort. Behind -the line of flames and smoke he could see the dark -figures of the Indians fanning with blankets and robes, -to make the line move faster and fiercer.</p> - -<p>“Humph! A poor fire,” grunted one of the -squaws. “Grass too short.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_34"></a>[34]</span></p> - -<p>“Yes. But it makes a smoke, so the men can -charge up close,” answered the other.</p> - -<p>That, then, was the scheme, if the fire itself did not -amount to much. Some of the dark figures behind the -line of fire fanned; others were stealing forward, into -the smoke itself. The moment was exciting. The -smoke was drifting across the fort; would the two men -and the boy suspect that the Indians were following -it in?</p> - -<p>The line of fire seemed almost at the low mound -which contained the three whites; the smoke drifted -thick and fast; the figures of the Indians stole forward. -Abruptly, from the dim mound spurted a jet -of flame, and sounded a hollow “Bang!” Another -jet spurted, with another “Bang!” And—“Bang! -Bang! Bangity-bang-bang!” Hurrah! That fort -was not being fooled; no, indeed. It was ready for -anything. It knew what was behind the smoke, and -had only been waiting.</p> - -<p>“Kill! Kill!” shrieked the two squaws, enraged -again. But the warriors gave up, as soon as they found -that their smoke scheme had not worked. They shot -their bullets and a few arrows, and lay low. Soon -the fire and the smoke had passed beyond the mule fort. -Some of the braves returned to the camp; the others -continued to sneak about, on guard over the fort. -Silence reigned.</p> - -<p>“We might as well go to sleep,” said one squaw -to the other. “Nothing will happen until morning.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_35"></a>[35]</span></p> - -<p>“Lie down, white red-head,” bade the second -squaw, roughly, to Dave. “To-morrow we will have -three more whites, and that will mean lots of fun.”</p> - -<p>Davy obeyed. It was warmer lying down than sitting -up. Thankful that the three whites were still -unbeaten, and too smart for the Cheyennes, he fell -asleep. When again he wakened, it really was morning. -The sky was pink, and stars pale, the brush -showed plainly. But he had no time to meditate, or -invite another “forty winks.” The squaws had -sprung to their feet; the air was full of clangor and -shouting and shooting; the Indians were making a -charge, the little fort was holding them off.</p> - -<p>It was the angriest charge yet, all in the chill, pink -dawn flooding high sky and broad plain. However, -it didn’t work. The two men and the boy were just -as ready as ever, and the charge split. Cut Nose -waved his hand and motioned. The circle of galloping -horsemen spread wider, and dismounting, the -riders, holding to their ponies’ neck-ropes, sat down -to wait like a circle of crows watching a corn-field.</p> - -<p>The two squaws were disgusted. They grumbled, -as they prepared breakfast; and under their scowls -Davy felt afraid. He wondered what the Indians -would do next.</p> - -<p>Plainly enough, they did not intend to make any -more charges. The sun rose high and higher. His -beams were hot, so that the plain simmered. Without -shade in that little open enclosure formed by the mule<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_36"></a>[36]</span> -carcasses, the three whites would soon be very uncomfortable. -One was a boy and one was wounded. Circling -and waiting, the two black buzzards had been -joined by a third. Forming a wide ring of squatting -warriors and dozing ponies, the Indians also waited. -The air was still; scarcely a sound was to be heard, -save as now and then the squaws with Davy murmured -one to the other, or a warrior made a short remark.</p> - -<p>What was to be the end? The grim siege was worse -than the charges. The sun had climbed well toward -the noon mark, and Davy felt heart-sick for those -three prisoners in the mule fort, when, on a sudden, a -new thing happened. First, a warrior, on his right, -up-leaped, to stand gazing westward, listening. Another -warrior stood—and another, and another. Cut -Nose himself was on his feet; ponies were pricking -their ears; the two squaws, bounding to their feet, -likewise looked and listened.</p> - -<p>Davy strained his ears. Hark! Distant shooting? -Flat, faint reports of firearms seemed to drift through -the stillness. No! Hurrah, hurrah! Those reports -were the cracking of teamsters’ bull-whips. A wagon -train was coming! Another wagon train, from the -west! See—above that ridge there, only half a mile -away, a wagon already had appeared: first the team -of several span of oxen, then the white top of the big -vehicle itself, and the driver trudging, and several outriding -horsemen flanking on either side.</p> - -<p>Team after team, wagon after wagon, mounted the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_37"></a>[37]</span> -ridge, and flowed over and down. It was a large train, -and a grand sight; only, it was not a grand sight for -the Indians. But in the mule fort the two white men -and the boy had jumped up and were waving their hats -and cheering. Davy wanted to join, and wave and -cheer.</p> - -<p>To their ponies’ backs were vaulting all the Indians. -The two squaws, panic-stricken, rushed to the -safety of their saddles. They seemed to forget little -Dave. Cut Nose had dashed to the front, his men -were rallying around him. Evidently they were debating -whether to fight or run. Louder sounded the -smart cracks of the bull-whips; the wagon train was -coming right ahead, lined out for the very spot. The -Indians had short shift for planning. The two squaws, -having hastily gathered their belongings, galloped for -the council. Davy started to follow, but lagged, and -paused. His own pony was making off, dragging his -neck rope, to catch up with the other ponies. Davy -wisely let him go.</p> - -<p>Now Cut Nose raised his hand; and turning, quickened -his pony to a furious gallop. Shrill pealed his -war-whoop; whooping and lashing, after him pelted -every warrior, with the two squaws racing behind. -Straight for the little fort they charged. The three -whites had dropped low, to receive them. And—look, -listen—from the wagon train welled answering yell, -and on, across the plain, for the fort, spurred a dozen -and more riders shaking their guns and shouting.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_38"></a>[38]</span></p> - -<p>Davy dived to cover of a greasewood bush, and lay -low. But the Cheyennes did not stop to get him. They -kept on; at the little fort they split, as before, and -shooting and yelping they passed on either side of it. -The three whites received them with a volley and sent -a volley or two after them as they thudded away. And -that was the end of the siege.</p> - -<p>Davy did not dare to stand and show himself. To -be sure, the Cheyennes, both men and squaws, were -racing away, as hard as they could ride; but even yet -they might send back after him. So he lay and peeped. -However, in the mule fort the two men and the boy had -risen upright, again to wave and cheer. Waving and -cheering, the mounted men from the wagon train came -galloping on, and presently the three in the fort stepped -outside. Arrived, the foremost riders from the train -hastily flung themselves from their saddles, and there -was apparently a great shaking of hands and exchange -of greetings. With volleys renewed, from their whip -lashes, the teams also were hastening for the scene. -The Cheyennes already were almost out of sight. So -Davy stood, and trudged forward.</p> - -<p>He had half a mile to walk, through the low brush. -The first of the wagons beat him to the fort. When he -drew near, the lead wagon had halted, and the others -were trundling in one after the other. The men were -crowding about their three comrades who had been -rescued, and for a few moments nobody seemed to<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_39"></a>[39]</span> -notice ragged little red-headed Dave, toiling on as fast -as he could.</p> - -<p>It was a large train. There were twenty-five -wagons, with their teamsters, and about two hundred -extra men, some mounted on mules and horses. However, -most of the men were afoot. The wagons were -tremendous big things, with flaring canvas tops on, or -else with the canvas stripped, leaving only the naked -hoops of the frame-work. Each wagon was drawn by -twelve panting bullocks, yoked in pairs, or spans.</p> - -<p>The majority of the men were dressed alike, in -flat, broad-brimmed plains hats, blue or red flannel -shirts, and rough trousers belted at the waist and tucked -into high, heavy boots. The teamsters were armed -in hand with their whips, of short stock and long lash -and snapper which cracked like a pistol shot. Those -cracks could be heard half a mile. The extra men -carried mainly large bore muskets, called (as Davy -knew) Mississippi yagers; and all had knives and pistols, -thrust into waist-band and belt. Whiskered and -unshaven and tanned and dusty, it was a regular rough-and-ready -crowd.</p> - -<p>However, of course the three defenders of the mule -fort took the chief attention. They were the two men -(the shoulder of one was rudely bandaged with a blue -bandanna handkerchief) and the boy. Even the boy -wore freighter plains costume, of broad hat and flannel -shirt and trousers tucked into boots; and he held a -yager in his hand, and had a butcher knife and two big<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_40"></a>[40]</span> -Colt’s revolvers stuck in his belt. He and the two men -looked pretty well tired out, but they stood fast and -answered all kinds of questions.</p> - -<p>The mule fort showed how hot had been the battle, -for the mule bodies fairly bristled with arrows. -Arrows were everywhere on the ground about.</p> - -<p>The freighters had crowded close, and everybody -was talking and laughing at once. Davy stood unnoted -on the outskirts, gazing and listening—until on -a sudden he was espied by a tall, lank teamster with -long dusty whiskers.</p> - -<p>“Hello, thar!” the man called, loudly. “Whar’d -you come from, Red? Lookee, boys! Reckon we’ve -picked up a trav’ler. Whoopee! Come hyar, son. -Give us an account of yoreself.”</p> - -<p>One after another, they all looked. Davy flushed -and fidgeted and felt much embarrassed. The tall -whiskered freighter strode forward and grasped him -by the ragged shirt-sleeve.</p> - -<p>“What’s yore name?”</p> - -<p>“David Scott.”</p> - -<p>“Whar’d you come from?”</p> - -<p>“The Indians had me. They killed my uncle and -aunt and made me go along.”</p> - -<p>“Whar was that?”</p> - -<p>“Back on the Overland Trail. We were with a -wagon train and got separated.”</p> - -<p>“How long ago?”</p> - -<p>“Two weeks, I think.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_41"></a>[41]</span></p> - -<p>“What Injuns?”</p> - -<p>“Those——” and Davy pointed in the direction -taken by the Cut Nose band.</p> - -<p>“I want to know!” The teamster gaped wide in -astonishment, and from the crowd came a chorus of -exclamations. “How’d you get away?”</p> - -<p>“When you scared them off I hid behind a bush. -Two squaws had me, and they didn’t wait.”</p> - -<p>“You mean to say you war with those same pesky -Injuns who war attackin’ this fort hyar?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, sir. But I didn’t do any of the fighting.”</p> - -<p>“No, o’ course you didn’t. Wall, I’m jiggered!” -And the whiskered freighter seemed overwhelmed with -amazement. But he rallied, as a thought struck him. -“Come along hyar. I’ll interduce ye to another boy.” -And by the sleeve he led Davy forward, through the -staring crowd. “Hyar, now; I want to interduce ye -to a reg’lar rip-snorter, not much older’n you are. -Red, shake hands with little Billy Cody, the hero of -the mule fort.”</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_42"></a>[42]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="III">III<br /> -<small>WITH THE WAGON TRAIN</small></h2> -</div> - - -<p>“Little Billy Cody” was the boy who had been -with the two men in the mule fort. Surrounded by the -staring crowd Davy felt rather timid and did not know -exactly what to do. But Billy Cody promptly put out -his hand, Davy extended his, and Billy gripped it -warmly.</p> - -<p>“Hello,” he said, gruffly. “Where do you hail -from?”</p> - -<p>“I was out there, with the Indians, while you were -fighting,” explained Davy.</p> - -<p>“Didn’t we give it to ’em!” asserted Billy Cody. -“They thought they had us; but they didn’t.”</p> - -<p>“I saw you shoot Lame Buffalo,” said Davy, -eagerly. “I guess you killed him.”</p> - -<p>“He shore did,” declared the wounded man. -“When little Billy draws bead on anything, it’s a -goner.”</p> - -<p>“Well, I had to do it,” said Billy Cody. “Lew told -me to.”</p> - -<p>“So I did,” uttered the second of the two men. -“It was time those Injuns knew what they were up<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_43"></a>[43]</span> -against, when they tackled us and Billy. That one shot -licked ’em.”</p> - -<p>“Hurrah for little Billy!” cheered the crowd, -good-natured; and Billy fidgeted, embarrassed, although -anybody could see that he was rather proud.</p> - -<p>He was a good-looking boy, although now his face -was burned and grimy, and his clothing rough. He -stood a little taller than Davy, but he was slender and -wiry. He had brown hair and dark brown eyes and -regular features; and under his grime and tan his skin -was smooth. He was dressed just like the men, and -carried himself like a man; but the muzzle of the long -heavy yager extended above his hat-brim. Evidently -his two companions thought highly of him, and so did -the men of the wagon train.</p> - -<p>“Some of you tend to Woods’ shoulder; then if -you’ll hustle a little grub we’ll be ready for it,” quoth -the man called Lew. “Those mule carcasses served a -good purpose but they weren’t very appetizing.”</p> - -<p>“First of all, I want a drink,” announced the man -called Woods.</p> - -<p>Prompt hands passed forward canteens, and Billy -and the two men took long, hearty swigs of water.</p> - -<p>“Arrow wasn’t pizened, was it?” queried several -voices, of Mr. Woods.</p> - -<p>“No. Lew looked at it, and said not. So he put -a hunk o’ tobacco on it, and we haven’t paid much more -attention to it,” answered Mr. Woods. “But it’s powerful -sore.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_44"></a>[44]</span></p> - -<p>“Here; I’ll fix it up,” proffered a quiet man, who -had not been saying much. Now noticing him, Davy -thought that he was the finest figure in the whole party. -This man was young (he could not have been more -than twenty, but this pioneer life turned youths into -men early) and was splendidly built. He stood a -straight six feet, with slim waist and broad shoulders -and flat back; his hair was long and light yellow, and -his wavy moustache also was light yellow. His eyes -were wide and steel gray, his nose hawk-like, his chin -square and firm. His clothes fitted him well, and were -worn with an easy grace. About his strong neck was -loosely knotted a red silk handkerchief.</p> - -<p>“All right, Bill,” responded Mr. Woods, sitting -down. “’Twon’t need much, except a little washing.”</p> - -<p>Bill calmly proceeded to inspect the arrow -wound in the shoulder. Other men were hastily producing -food from the wagons.</p> - -<p>“Here, Red,” they bade, to Davy; and sitting in -the half circle with Mr. Lew and Billy Cody, Davy -gladly ate. It seemed good to be with white people -again.</p> - -<p>“How long did the Injuns have you?” asked Billy.</p> - -<p>“About two weeks.”</p> - -<p>“They were Cheyennes, weren’t they. Who was -their chief?”</p> - -<p>“Cut Nose. He was head chief. But Lame Buffalo -and Bear-Who-Walks were chiefs, too.”</p> - -<p>“That Cut Nose is a mean Injun,” pronounced<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_45"></a>[45]</span> -Billy, wagging his big hat. “But he didn’t catch <em>us</em>—not -with Lew Simpson bossing our job. I thought we -were wiped out, sure, till Lew told us to kill our mules -quick and get behind ’em. That was a great scheme.”</p> - -<p>“It shore was,” agreed all the men around, wagging -their heads, too, while they listened. “Injuns -hate to charge folks they can’t see well.”</p> - -<p>“Weren’t you afraid?” asked Davy. He liked -this Billy Cody, who acted so like a man and yet was -only a boy.</p> - -<p>“He afraid? Billy Cody afraid?” laughed the -listeners. “You don’t know Billy yet.”</p> - -<p>“Whether or not we were afraid, we were mighty -glad to have those mules in front of us, weren’t we, -Billy?” spoke up Lew Simpson. “They made a heap -of difference.”</p> - -<p>“That’s right,” answered Billy, frankly. And -everybody laughed again.</p> - -<p>The meal was quickly finished. It consisted of only -cold beans and chunks of dried beef, but it tasted tremendously -good to Davy; and he didn’t see that Billy -or Mr. Simpson slighted their share, either. Mr. -Woods had been eating while his wound was being -dressed.</p> - -<p>“George, you’d better ride in a wagon for a day or -so,” called Mr. Simpson, rising, to Mr. Woods. -“Well, Red,” and he addressed Davy, “I reckon you’ll -travel along with us. We’re bound back to the States. -Got any folks there?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_46"></a>[46]</span></p> - -<p>“No, sir,” said Davy, with a lump in his throat. -“But I’d like to go on with you.”</p> - -<p>“All right-o. Now, some of you fellows hustle us -a mule apiece, while Billy and I plunder those Injuns -out there. Then we’ll travel.”</p> - -<p>Mr. Simpson spoke like one in authority. Billy -Cody promptly sprang up, and he and Mr. Simpson -strode out into the plain, where the dead Indians and -the ponies were lying. Lame Buffalo was the farthest -of all; but he was still, like the rest. Evidently he -would ride and fight no more.</p> - -<p>The wagon train men bustled about, reforming for -the march. Three mules were saddled, as mounts for -Davy and the two others. Having passed rapidly over -the field, Mr. Simpson and Billy returned, laden with -the weapons and ornaments of the warriors and the -trappings of the ponies. They made two trips. Davy -recognized the shield and head-dress of Lame Buffalo, -who would need them not again. Billy proudly carried -them and stowed them in a wagon.</p> - -<p>“Those are yours, aren’t they?” asked Davy, following -him, to watch.</p> - -<p>“They’re mine if I want them,” said Billy. -“Reckon I’ll take ’em home and give ’em to my -sisters.”</p> - -<p>“Where do you live?”</p> - -<p>“In Salt Creek Valley, Eastern Kansas, near -Leavenworth. Where do you?”</p> - -<p>“Nowhere, I guess,” replied Davy, trying to smile.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_47"></a>[47]</span></p> - -<p>“Pshaw!” sympathized Billy. “That’s sure hard -luck. Ride along with me and I’ll tell you about -things.”</p> - -<p>“Here, boy—crawl into this,” called a teamster -nearby; and he tossed at Davy a red flannel shirt. -“It’ll match yore ha’r.” And he laughed good-naturedly.</p> - -<p>“It’s my color all right,” responded Davy, without -being teased, as he picked up the shirt. “Much -obliged.” He slipped it over his head. It fitted more -like a blouse than a shirt, but he needed something of -the kind. After he had turned back the sleeves and -tucked in the long tails, he was very comfortable.</p> - -<p>“Climb on your mule, Red,” bade Billy Cody. -“We’re going to start, and Lew Simpson won’t wait -for anybody.”</p> - -<p>Mr. Simpson was already on his mule. The other -mounted men were in their saddles. Mr. Simpson cast -a keen glance adown the line.</p> - -<p>“All ready?” he shouted. “Go ahead.”</p> - -<p>The long lash of the leading teamster shot out with -a resounding crack.</p> - -<p>“Gee-up!” he cried. “You Buck! Spot!” And -again his whip cracked smartly. His six yoke of oxen -leaned to their work; the wagon creaked as it moved. -All down the line other whips were cracking, and other -teamsters were shouting, and the wagons creaked and -groaned. One after another they started, until the -whole train was in motion.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_48"></a>[48]</span></p> - -<p>Mr. Simpson and two or three companions led, -keeping to the advance. The other riders were scattered -in bunches back on either side of the train; the -teamsters walked beside their wagons; and in the rear -of the train ambled a large bunch of loose cattle and -mules, driven by a herder.</p> - -<p>Billy Cody and Dave rode together, well up toward -the front.</p> - -<p>“Did you ever freight any?” queried Billy. -“What was that train you were with? Just emigrants?”</p> - -<p>“Yes,” answered Davy. “We were going to Salt -Lake.”</p> - -<p>“Mormons?” demanded Billy, quickly.</p> - -<p>“No. After we’d got to Salt Lake maybe we’d -have gone on to California.”</p> - -<p>“Expect I’ll go across to California sometime,” -asserted Billy. “How old are you, Red?”</p> - -<p>“Eleven.”</p> - -<p>“I’m thirteen, but I’ve been drawing pay with a bull -train three trips out and back. The first time I was -herder from Fort Leavenworth out to Fort Kearney -and back. Next time I was herder from Leavenworth -for Salt Lake, but the Injuns turned us at Plum Creek -just beyond Fort Kearney and we had to quit. I killed -an Injun too dead to skin, but I was so scared I didn’t -know what I was doing. Last summer I went out as -extra hand with a big outfit for the soldiers at Salt -Lake, but the Mormons held us up and took all our<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_49"></a>[49]</span> -stuff, so we couldn’t help the army, and we had to -spend the winter at Fort Bridger, and all of us nearly -starved.”</p> - -<p>“What’s an extra hand?” asked Davy.</p> - -<p>“He takes the place of any other man, who may be -sick or hurt,” explained Billy, importantly. “I’m -drawing man’s pay; forty a month. I’m saving it to -give to my mother, as soon as I get back. Weren’t you -ever with a bull train before?”</p> - -<p>Davy shook his head.</p> - -<p>“No.”</p> - -<p>“This is a Russell, Majors & Waddell outfit,” proceeded -Billy. “They’re the big freighters out of -Leavenworth across the plains and down to Santa Fe. -Gee, they haul a lot of stuff! We’re travelling empty, -back from Fort Laramie to Leavenworth. This is only -half the train; there’s another section on ahead of us. -Lew and George and I were riding on to catch up -with it, when those Injuns corralled us. If Lew hadn’t -been so smart, they’d have had our hair, too. We -wouldn’t have stood any show at all. But those mules -did the business. And I had a dream that helped. Last -night I dreamed my old dog Turk came and woke me; -and when I did wake I saw the Injuns sneaking up on -us. Then we all woke, and drove ’em back. I’m going -to thank Turk for that. I don’t know how he found -me. This isn’t the regular trail; but Lew thought he’d -make a short cut.”</p> - -<p>“Is he the captain?” asked Davy.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_50"></a>[50]</span></p> - -<p>“He’s wagon boss; he’s boss of the whole train, -and he’s a dandy. I reckon he’s the best wagon boss on -the plains. George Woods—the man who was -wounded—he’s assistant boss. He’s plucky, I tell you. -That arrow didn’t phase him at all. Lew bound a big -chunk of tobacco on it, and George went on fighting. -Do you know what they call this outfit. It’s a bull -outfit, and those drivers are bull-whackers. Jiminy, -but they can throw those whips some!”</p> - -<p>“When will we get to Leavenworth, do you -think?”</p> - -<p>“In about twenty-five days. We’re travelling -light, and I guess we can make twenty miles a day. -We’ve got a lot of government men with us, from -Fort Laramie, and the Injuns will think twice before -they interfere, you bet. We’re too many for ’em. I -reckon those Cheyennes didn’t expect to see another -bull train following that first one.”</p> - -<p>“No. They thought you were left behind and were -trying to catch up. So they waited to starve you out. -That’s what fooled ’em.”</p> - -<p>“It sure did,” nodded Billy, gravely. “Say, -there’s another fine man with this outfit. He’s the one -who dressed Woods’ shoulder. His name’s Jim -Hickok, but everybody calls him ‘Wild Bill.’ Isn’t -he a good-looker?”</p> - -<p>“That’s right,” agreed Davy.</p> - -<p>“Well, he isn’t just looks, either,” asserted Billy. -“He’s all there. He’s been a mighty good friend of<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_51"></a>[51]</span> -mine. Because I was a boy some of the men thought -they could impose on me. A big fellow slapped me -off a bull-yoke, when I was sitting and didn’t jump -the instant he bade me. I was so mad I threw a pot -of hot coffee in his face; and I reckon he’d have -killed me if Wild Bill hadn’t knocked him cold. When -he came to he wanted to fight; but Wild Bill told him -if he or anybody else ever bullied ‘little Billy’ -(that’s what they call me) they’d get such a pounding -that they wouldn’t be well for a month of Sundays. -Nobody wants trouble with Wild Bill. He can handle -any man in the outfit; but he doesn’t fight unless he has -to. He’s quiet, and means to mind his own business.”</p> - -<p>With the wagons creaking and groaning, and the -oxen puffing and wheezing, and the teamsters cracking -their long whips, the bull train slowly toiled on, -across the rolling prairie. The trail taken occasionally -approached the banks of the North Platte River, and -soon there would be reached the place where the -North Platte and the South Platte joined, to make the -main Platte, flowing southeastward for the Missouri, -400 miles distant. Beyond the Missouri were the -States, lined up against this “Indian country” where -all the freighting and emigrating was going on.</p> - -<p>The train made a halt at noon, and again at evening. -Nothing especial had occurred since the rescue -of the three in the mule fort. Davy was very glad, -at night, to lie down with Billy Cody under a blanket, -among friends, instead of shivering in an Indian camp.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_52"></a>[52]</span></p> - -<p>Start was made again at sunrise. To-day the main -travelled Platte Trail would be reached, and the going -would be easier. Just as the trails joined in mid-morning, -a sudden cry sped down the long line of -wagons.</p> - -<p>“Buffalo! Buffalo!”</p> - -<p>All was excitement. Davy peered.</p> - -<p>“See ’em?” said Billy, pointing. “That’s a big -herd. Thousands of ’em. Hurray for fresh meat.”</p> - -<p>Ahead, between the river at one side and some sand -bluffs at the other, a black mass, of groups as thick as -gooseberry bushes, had appeared. The mass was in -slow motion, as the groups grazed hither and thither. -On the edges, black dots told of buffaloes feeding out -from the main body. There must have been thousands -of the buffalo. Davy had seen other herds but none -so large as this one. His blood tingled—especially -when Lew Simpson, the wagon boss came galloping -back.</p> - -<p>“Ride on, some of you men,” he shouted. “There’s -meat. You whackers follow along by the trail and be -on hand when we’re butchering.”</p> - -<p>“I can’t go, can I?” appealed Davy, eagerly, to -Billy.</p> - -<p>“No; you haven’t any gun,” answered Billy. -“I’m going, though. I can kill as many buffalo as -anybody. You watch us.”</p> - -<p>Forward galloped Lew Simpson and Billy and -twenty others. From a wagon George Woods, his<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_53"></a>[53]</span> -shoulder bandaged and painful, stuck out his head, and -lamented the fact that he was too sore to ride. The -buffalo hunt promised to be great sport; and, besides, -the fresh meat would be a welcome change.</p> - -<p>So away the hunters galloped, Lew Simpson and -little Billy leading. The train, guarded by the other -men, followed, closely watching. Even the very rear -of it was excited.</p> - -<p>Now arose another cry, passing from mouth to -mouth.</p> - -<p>“Lookee there! More hunters!”</p> - -<p>That was so. Beyond the buffalo, up along the -river were speeding another squad of horsemen, evidently -intent upon the same prey. They were coursing -rapidly, but already the buffalo had seen them, and -with uplifted heads the farthest animals were gazing, -alarmed.</p> - -<p>“Our fellows will have to hurry,” remarked the -teamster nearest to Davy. “Shucks! That’s no way -to hunt buff’ler. Those fellers must be crazy. They’ll -stampede the whole herd!”</p> - -<p>“They’ll stampede the whole herd, sure,” agreed -everybody.</p> - -<p>It was a moment of great interest. Davy thumped -his mule with his heels, and hastened ahead, the better -to witness. The party led by Lew Simpson and Wild -Bill and little Billy had been making a circuit, keeping -to the cover of the low ground, until they were close -enough to charge; but those other hunters were riding<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_54"></a>[54]</span> -boldly, as if to run the buffalo down. And as anybody -should know, this really was not the right way to hunt -buffalo.</p> - -<p>“They’ll drive ’em into our fellows,” claimed several -voices. “They’ll do the runnin’ an’ we’ll do the -killin’!”</p> - -<p>“Or else they’ll drive ’em into <em>us</em>!” cried others. -“Watch out, boys! Watch yore teams! Steady with -yore teams, or there’ll be the dickens to pay.”</p> - -<p>That seemed likely. The stranger hunters were -right upon the herd; the outside buffalo had wheeled; -and tossing their heads and whirling, now with heads -low and tails high the whole great herd was being set -in motion, fleeing to escape. The thudding of their -hoofs drifted like rolling thunder. After the herd -pelted the stranger hunters.</p> - -<p>Part of the herd plashed through the river; part -made for the sand-hills—but smelling or sighting the -Simpson party, they veered and came on, between the -river and the sand-hills, straight for the trail and the -wagon-train. In vain out dashed, to turn them, the -Simpson party; from the train itself the horsemen -spurred forward, as a bulwark of defense; the teamsters -shouted and “Gee-hawed” and swung their bull-whips, -and the oxen, surging and swerving, their -nostrils wide and their eyes bulging, dragged the -wagons in confusion. In his excitement Davy rode -on, into the advance, to help it.</p> - -<p>To shout and wave at those crazy hunters and order<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_55"></a>[55]</span> -them to quit their pursuit was useless. They didn’t -see and they couldn’t hear; at least, they did not seem -to understand. Panic-stricken, the buffaloes came -straight on. Off to the side Lew Simpson and Wild Bill -and little Billy and companions were shooting rapidly; -the stranger hunters were shooting, behind; and -now the reinforcements from the train were shooting -and yelling, hoping to split the herd. Some of the -buffaloes staggered and fell; others never hesitated or -turned, but forged along as if blind and deaf. One -enormous old bull seemed to bear a charmed life; he -galloped right through the skirmish line; and the next -thing that Davy, as excited as anybody, knew, the bull -sighted him, and charged him.</p> - -<p>Davy found himself apparently all alone with the -big bull. He did not need to turn his mule; his mule -turned of its own accord, and away they raced. Davy -was vaguely conscious of shouts and shots and the -frenzied leaps of his frightened mule, which was -heading back to the wagon train. Davy did not know -that he was doing right, to lead the angry bull into -the train; he tugged in vain at his mule’s bit, and -could not make the slightest impression. Then, down -pitched the mule, as if he had thrust his foot into a -hole; and the ground flew up and struck Davy on the -ear. In a long slide he went scraping on ear and shoulder, -before he could stagger to his feet.</p> - -<p>The mule was galloping away; but Davy looked for<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_56"></a>[56]</span> -the buffalo. The big bull had stopped short and was -staring and rumbling, as if astonished. The change -in the shape of the thing that he had been chasing -seemed to make him angrier. He stood, puzzled and -staring and rumbling, only about twenty yards from -Davy. Suddenly the red shirt must have got into his -eyes, for his fore-hoofs began to throw the dirt higher, -and Davy somehow knew that he was going to charge.</p> - -<p>Not much time had passed; no, not a quarter of a -minute, since the mule had fallen and had left Davy -to the buffalo. The wagon train men were yelling and -running, from the one direction; the hunters were yelling -and riding, from the other; and whether they were -yelling and hurrying on his account, Davy could not -look, to see. Down had dropped the bull’s huge shaggy -head, up had flirted his little knobbed tail; and on he -came.</p> - -<p>Davy never knew how he managed—he dimly -heard another outburst of confused shouts, amidst -which Billy Cody’s voice rang the clearest, with -“Dodge him, Red! This way, this way!” He did not -dare to glance aside, and he felt that it was not much -use to run; but in a twinkling he peeled off the crimson -shirt (which was so large for him) and throwing it, -sprang aside.</p> - -<p>Into the shirt plunged the big bull, and tossed it -and rammed it and trampled it, while Davy watched -amazed, ready to run off.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_57"></a>[57]</span></p> - -<p>“Bully for you, Red!” sang out a familiar voice; -riding hard to Davy’s side dashed Billy Cody, on -lathered mule; he levelled his yager, it spoke, the big -bull started and stiffened, as if stung. Slowly he -swayed and yielded, with a series of grunts sinking -down, and down; from his knees he rolled to his side; -and there he lay, not breathing.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_58"></a>[58]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="IV">IV<br /> -<small>VISITING BILLY CODY</small></h2> -</div> - - -<p>“All right, Red,” panted Billy Cody. “He’s -spoiled your shirt, though. Lucky you weren’t inside -it. Say, that was a smart trick you did. Get up behind -me. The wagon train’s in a heap of trouble. -Let’s go over there.”</p> - -<p>Davy’s knees were shaking and he could not speak; -he was ashamed to seem so frightened, but he clambered -aboard the mule, behind the saddle. Away Billy -spurred for the wagon train. Other hunters were -spurring in the same direction.</p> - -<p>The wagon train certainly was having a time of it. -Those stranger hunters, from down the river, had -driven the buffaloes straight into the teams. The cavvy -of loose cattle and mules had scattered; ox-teams had -broken their yokes or had stampeded with the wagons. -Several wagons were over-turned; and a big buffalo -was galloping away with an ox-yoke entangled in his -horns. Wild Bill overhauled him in short order and -returned with the yoke; but hither and thither across -the field were racing and chasing other men, ahorse -and afoot, trying to gather the train together again.</p> - -<p>By the time that the buffalo charge had passed on<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_59"></a>[59]</span> -through and the animals were making off into the distance, -most of the train’s hunters had arrived. The -other hunters, from below, also arrived. They proved -to be a party of emigrants, for California, who did not -understand how to hunt buffalo. In fact, they had not -killed a single one. However, Lew Simpson gave -them a pretty dressing down for their carelessness.</p> - -<p>“You’ve held us up for a day, at least,” he -stormed; “and you’ve done us several hundred dollars’ -worth of damage besides.”</p> - -<p>“Well-nigh killed that boy, too,” spoke somebody. -“Did you see him peel that shirt? Haw-haw! -Slipped out of it quicker’n a snake goin’ through a -holler log!”</p> - -<p>“Little Billy came a-runnin’, though,” reminded -somebody else.</p> - -<p>“Yep; but didn’t save the shirt!”</p> - -<p>That was true—everybody agreed that Davy would -not have been saved had he not acted promptly. He -was given another shirt (a blue one) to take the place of -the one sacrificed to the big buffalo.</p> - -<p>The California party rode away, taking a little -meat that Lew Simpson offered them after they had -properly apologized for their clumsiness. The rest of -the day was spent in cutting up the buffaloes, and in -repairing the wagons and harness. Not until the next -noon was the train able to resume its creaking way, -down the Platte River trail, for the Missouri River -at Fort Leavenworth.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_60"></a>[60]</span></p> - -<p>About twenty miles a day were covered now, regularly, -and during the days Davy learned considerable -about a “bull train” on the plains. He learned that -he was lucky to ride instead of walk; nearly everybody -with a bull train walked. However, this train was -travelling almost empty, back from Fort Laramie, on -the North Platte River in western Nebraska (for -Nebraska Territory extended to the middle of present -Wyoming), to Fort Leavenworth in eastern Kansas -Territory. It was accompanied by a lot of government -employes, who did not work for the train, and these -rode if they could furnish their own mules. Lew -Simpson, the wagon boss, and George Woods, the assistant -wagon boss, Billy the extra hand, and the herder, -rode, because that was the custom; all the other employes -walked.</p> - -<p>The oxen or “bulls” (as they were called) were -guided by voice and whip. The whip, though, rarely -touched them hard; just a flick of the lash at one side -or the other of the leading span was enough. A -sharp “Gee up!” or a “Whoa, haw, Buck!” and a -motion of the lash, did the business. Some of the -oxen seemed to be very wise.</p> - -<p>“Do you know what those whips are, Red?” asked -Billy.</p> - -<p>“Raw hide.”</p> - -<p>“Better than that. I’ll get one and show you when -we camp.”</p> - -<p>So he did that noon.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_61"></a>[61]</span></p> - -<p>“Hickory stock, and lash of buffalo hide, tanned, -with a buck-skin cracker,” informed Billy. “Eighteen -inch stock, eighteen foot lash, and cost eighteen dollars. -You ought to see some of these whackers sling -a whip! They can stand at the fore wheel and pick a -fly off the lead team! Yes, and they can take a chunk -of hide out, too—but they don’t often do that.”</p> - -<p>Davy curiously examined the bull whip. The stock -was short and smooth, the lash was long and braided -thickest in the middle, like the shape of a snake. The -cracker was about six inches in length, and already had -frayed at the tip; and no wonder, for it had often been -made to snap like a pistol shot!</p> - -<p>“I can swing the thing a little, but it’s sort of long -for me,” announced Billy, proceeding to practise with -it, until he had almost taken off his own ear, and made -the whole mess uneasy. “I’m not going to quit, -though,” he added, “until I can throw a bull whip as -good as anybody;” and he took the whip back to its -owner.</p> - -<p>Billy was quite a privileged character, at camp and -on the march. Everybody liked him, and considered -him about as good as a man. To be an “extra hand” -was no small job. It meant that whenever any of the -teamsters was sick or hurt or otherwise laid off, “little -Billy” took his place. The “extra hand” rode with -the wagon boss (who was Lew Simpson), carried orders -for him down the line, and was held ready to fill<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_62"></a>[62]</span> -a vacancy. So this duty required a boy of no ordinary -pluck and sense.</p> - -<p>Besides, it was generally known that Billy was -drawing wages to give to his mother, who was a widow -trying to raise a family. Billy was the “man” of the -family, and they depended on him. The wagon train -liked him all the more for this. Everybody spoke well -of “little Billy,” for his good sense and his courage. -Davy heard many stories of what he had done. The -fight in the mule fort had showed his quality in danger; -and he had proved himself in several other “scrimmages” -with the Indians.</p> - -<p>He and Davy and Lew Simpson and George -Woods and Wild Bill and a squad of government men -formed a mess, which ate together. The pleasantest -part of the day was the noon halt, around the camp-fire; -and the evening camp, at sunset. Billy put in -part of his rests at practising writing with charcoal on -any surface that he could find. Even when Davy had -joined the train, the wagon boxes and tongues and -wheels bore scrawls such as “Little Billy Cody,” -“Billy Cody the Boy Scout,” “William Frederick -Cody,” etc. However, as a writer Dave could beat -Billy “a mile,” as the teamsters said. Billy was not -much of a figurer, either. But he was bound to learn.</p> - -<p>“Ma wants me to go to school some more,” he -admitted. “So I suppose I’ll have to this winter. I -went some last winter, and we had a teacher in the -house, too. A little schooling won’t hurt a fellow.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_63"></a>[63]</span></p> - -<p>“No, I suppose it won’t,” answered Davy, gravely. -“I’ve had to go to school. But I’d rather do this.”</p> - -<p>“So would I,” confessed Billy. “I like it and I -need the money—and I need the schooling, too. -Reckon I can do both.”</p> - -<p>As for Davy himself, the wagon train seemed to -consider him, also, somewhat of a personage, because -he had shown his “smartness” when the buffalo bull -had attacked him. Of course, he had only slid out of -his big flannel shirt, and fooled the buffalo with it; -but that had been the right thing done in the right -place at the right time, and this counted.</p> - -<p>Nothing especial happened as the long train toiled -on. The trail was fine, worn smooth by many years of -travel over it. This was the old Oregon Trail, and -California, from the Missouri River, over the plains -and the mountains, clear to the Pacific coast of the -West. Beaver trappers and Indian traders had opened -it, thirty years ago, and it had been used ever since, -by trappers and traders, and by soldiers and emigrants, -and its name was known the world around.</p> - -<p>The wagon train frequently met other outfits, -freight and emigrants, bound west; and before the -train turned off the main trail for the government road -branching southeast for Leavenworth, the Hockaday -& Liggett stage-coach from St. Joseph on the Missouri -for Salt Lake City passed them. It wasn’t much of a -stage, being only a small wagon covered with canvas -and drawn by four mules, and running twice a month;<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_64"></a>[64]</span> -but it carried passengers clear through from the Missouri -River to Utah. The wagon train gave it a cheer -as it trundled by.</p> - -<p>“What are you going to do when you reach Leavenworth, -Red?” asked Billy one day, when they were -riding along. Leavenworth was now only a few days -ahead.</p> - -<p>“I don’t know,” answered Davy. “I guess I can -find a job somewhere. I’ll work for my board.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, pshaw! I’ll get you a job with a bull train,” -spoke Billy confidently. “I’ll ask Mr. Russell or Mr. -Majors. They’ll take care of any friend of mine, and -you’ve proved you’re the right stuff. But first you -come home with me. I’ll give you a good time. Wild -Bill’s coming, too, after a while.”</p> - -<p>“Maybe your folks won’t want me.”</p> - -<p>This made Billy almost mad.</p> - -<p>“They will, too. What do you talk that way for? -You ought to see my mother. I’ve got the best mother -that ever lived. She’ll be glad to see anybody that I -bring home, and so will my sisters, and Turk. You -come along. The trail goes right past the place, and -we’ll quit there, and not wait to reach Leavenworth. -I’ll get paid off first.”</p> - -<p>There was no resisting Billy, and Davy promised.</p> - -<p>Yes, evidently Leavenworth and the end of that -long Overland Trail were near. The talk in the train -was largely of Fort Leavenworth and Leavenworth -City, where the train would be broken and reorganized<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_65"></a>[65]</span> -for another trip, and the men would have a short rest -and see the sights, if they chose. New farms were -being passed, and the beginnings of new settlements; -and the number of emigrant outfits was much increased. -The greetings all referred to the farther -West—Kansas, Utah, and California were on every -tongue. Over the trail hung a constant dust of travel, -and the air was vibrant with the spirit of pioneers -pushing their way into a new country. These men, -women and children, travelling with team and wagon, -were brave people. Nothing, not even the Indians, -was keeping them back. They intended to settle somewhere -and establish homes again. The sight sometimes -made Davy sick at heart, because he, too, had -been travelling with one of these household wagons; -but the Indians had “wiped it out.”</p> - -<p>Well, he was in good hands now. Billy Cody -would see him through.</p> - -<p>“We’ll strike the Salt Creek Valley to-morrow -morning,” announced Billy. “Hurrah! I’ll get my -pay order to-night, so we can cut away to-morrow -without any waiting.”</p> - -<p>The morning was yet young when Billy pointed -ahead.</p> - -<p>“When we get over this hill we’ll see where I live, -Red. It’s yonder, on the other side.”</p> - -<p>The trail was ascending a long hill. From the top -Billy waved his hat.</p> - -<p>“There’s the Salt Creek Valley. I can see the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_66"></a>[66]</span> -house, too. That’s it, down below. Goodby, everybody. -Come on, Red.” And with a whoop away raced -Billy down the hill.</p> - -<p>As he rode he whistled shrill.</p> - -<p>“Watch for Turk,” he cried to Red, galloping behind. -And presently he cried again: “There he comes! -I knew he would!”</p> - -<p>Sure enough, from the house, before and below, -near the trail, out had darted a dog, to stand a moment, -listening and peering—then, head up and ears -pricked, to line himself at full speed for Billy. On he -scoured (what a big fellow he was when he drew -near), while Billy whistled and shouted and laughed -and praised.</p> - -<p>When they met, Billy flung himself from his saddle -for a moment, and he and the big dog wrestled in sheer -delight.</p> - -<p>“Isn’t he a dandy?” called Billy to Red. “Smartest -old fellow in Kansas. He saved my sisters’ lives -once from a panther. I’d rather have him than a man -any time.”</p> - -<p>They rode on, with Turk gambolling beside them. -He was a brindled boar hound, looking like a Great -Dane.</p> - -<p>Now Turk raced ahead, as if to carry the news; -and several people had emerged from the house and -were gathered before the door gazing. Billy waved -his big hat, and they waved back. They were a woman -and four girls.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_67"></a>[67]</span></p> - -<p>“That’s ma and my sisters,” said Billy. Down he -rushed, at full gallop of his mule; Davy thudded in his -wake.</p> - -<p>“Hello, mother! Hello, sisses!”</p> - -<p>“Oh, it’s Will! Will!”</p> - -<p>Dismounting, Billy was passed from one to another -and hugged and kissed. He was held the longest and -closest in his mother’s arms. Turk barked and barked.</p> - -<p>“Here, Red; come on,” ordered Billy, of Dave. -“Mother, this is my friend Dave Scott. He’s going -to visit us, and then I’ll get him a job on the trail. -These girls are my sisters, Dave. Don’t be afraid of -them. Take care of him, Turk. He’s all right, old -fellow. He’s a partner.” And Turk, sniffing of Davy -and wagging his great tail, seemed to understand.</p> - -<p>“Any friend of Will’s is more than welcome,” -said Billy’s mother, and she actually kissed Dave. The -girls shyly shook hands, and he knew that they welcomed -him, too.</p> - -<p>Then they all went into the house, where Billy -must sit down and tell about his experiences. That -took some time, for he had been gone a year. But before -he started to talk and answer questions, he said: -“Here, ma; here’s my pay check. How do you want -it cashed—gold or silver?”</p> - -<p>“For goodness sake, Will!” gasped Mother Cody, -while his sisters peeped. “Is this all yours?”</p> - -<p>“No,” said Billy, solemnly shaking his head. “I -can’t say it is, mother.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_68"></a>[68]</span></p> - -<p>“Then whose is it?” she asked anxiously.</p> - -<p>“Yours,” laughed Billy.</p> - -<p>The Cody house was a heavy log cabin of two -rooms and a rough roof, in the Salt River Valley across -which ran the Salt Lake overland trail. Fort Leavenworth -and the Missouri River were only four miles -eastward, and two miles below Fort Leavenworth was -Leavenworth City. The Cody farm had been located -by Billy’s father as soon as Kansas had been opened -for settlement, in 1853, but Billy’s father had died two -years ago. As Davy soon saw, Billy was the man of -the family, and whatever he earned was badly needed.</p> - -<p>It was good fun visiting at the Codys. There was -Mrs. Cody and the four girls, Julia, Eliza, Helen and -May, who seemed to think that Billy knew everything. -Julia was older than he, but the others were younger. -There was Turk the big dog; and not far from the -Cody place lived other settlers who had children. But -among all the boys Billy Cody was the only one who -had been out across the plains drawing man’s pay with -a wagon train.</p> - -<p>The Codys lived right at the edge of the Kickapoo -Indian reservation. Billy knew the Indians and they -liked him; he could shoot with bow and arrow, and -could talk Kickapoo, and had learned a lot of clever -ways to camp and travel.</p> - -<p>Best of all, past the Cody place, across Salt Creek -Valley wended the Overland Trail—climbing the hill -here, and disappearing into the west. Over it always<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_69"></a>[69]</span> -hung that veil of dust from the teams and wagons that -had set out. All kinds of “outfits,” as Billy called -them, travelled it: the straining, creaking “bull trains,” -carrying freight for the big freighting firm of Russell, -Majors & Waddell; the settlers, bound westward, with -their canvas-topped wagons bursting with household -goods, the women and children often walking alongside; -soldiers, for the forts of the Indian country; gold-seekers -with pack mules; “tame” Indians, from the -reservations or from outside villages; parties returning -for the “States,” from California and Utah and -the mountains, some of them with droves of horses, -some without anything at all.</p> - -<p>It was a very important highway, this Salt Lake, -California and Oregon “Overland” Trail, which had -one beginning at Leavenworth on the Missouri, only -six miles from the Cody place; and the Codys saw all -the travel that started on it. So no wonder Billy had -made up his mind to be a plainsman and work on the -trail; and no wonder that Davy wanted to do likewise. -It seemed a useful work, and much needed; but -it called for stout mind and brave heart, as well as -sturdy body. As for sturdy body the work itself made -people strong. The proper mind and heart were the -more necessary qualifications.</p> - -<p>Billy soon took the two mules into Leavenworth, -and returned them to the company. When he came -home, he gave his mother a double handful of gold -pieces.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_70"></a>[70]</span></p> - -<p>“Will, it doesn’t seem possible that you’ve earned -all this!”</p> - -<p>“Well, I guess if you’d been along, ma, you’d have -known that I earned them; wouldn’t she, Dave!” -laughed Billy. “I earned enough just while I was in -the mule fort to keep us the rest of our lives—only, -I haven’t got it yet.”</p> - -<p>“You’ll never go out again, will you, Will?” appealed -his mother anxiously. “Promise me.”</p> - -<p>Billy put his arms about her and hugged her tight. -She was a frail little mother, not nearly as strong as -Billy, and she never felt well, Billy had explained to -Dave. Now he said, holding her:</p> - -<p>“I can’t promise, ma. We need the money, and -that’s the quickest way to earn it. But I always come -back safe, don’t I? Don’t you ever worry about <em>me</em>. -I can take care of myself. I’m as good as a man, you -know.”</p> - -<p>Mother Cody only sighed, and kissed him. She -said nothing more.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_71"></a>[71]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="V">V<br /> -<small>DAVY GOES ON HERD</small></h2> -</div> - - -<p>“Red,” said Billy, after three weeks had passed, -“what do you want to do? I’m going out again.”</p> - -<p>“Where, Billy?” asked Dave.</p> - -<p>“Out across the plains. Got another job with a -bull train. I can’t stand this loafing. You can stay -here, I reckon. My mother’ll be glad to have you. -Or I’ll get you a job with the company.”</p> - -<p>Of course, Davy had no notion of staying on at the -Cody home, where means were scant and where Mrs. -Cody, helped by Billy, had all she could do to take -care of her own children. No; he wanted to earn his -way in the world.</p> - -<p>“I think I’d rather go to work,” he answered. -“When will you start, Billy?”</p> - -<p>“Next week. Come on into town. We’ll see Mr. -Russell. He’ll fix you out.”</p> - -<p>“Maybe I’m too small.”</p> - -<p>“No, you aren’t. Size isn’t what counts, out here. -It’s what a fellow does, not how he looks. See?”</p> - -<p>This sounded encouraging, for Billy seemed to -know. Hadn’t he gone to work himself herding cattle<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_72"></a>[72]</span> -for the Russell, Majors & Waddell Freighting Company, -when he was aged only ten? And now at -thirteen he was almost the same as a man! Davy determined -to show his own pluck, and do his best, and -make himself a place as a worker in those busy days -when the great West was being settled.</p> - -<p>That noon Billy borrowed a couple of ponies from -a neighbor, and he and Dave rode in to Leavenworth -City.</p> - -<p>“That Mr. Russell is the finest man you ever met,” -declared Billy. “Mr. Majors is a good one, too, but -Mr. Russell is the one who’s taken special care of me. -He was a mighty close friend of my father’s; when dad -was selling hay to Fort Leavenworth Mr. Russell let -me ride about the country with him and I learned a lot -about the freighting business. Times looked kind of -hard and somebody stole my pony, and he told me to -keep a stiff upper lip and come to Leavenworth and -he’d give me a job herding at twenty-five a month. -That was four years ago. I’ve been working for the -company ever since, except when I had to go to school. -When I started in, it was just Russell & Majors—William -H. Russell and Alexander Majors; last spring -Mr. William Waddell joined them, and now the company -is Russell, Majors & Waddell. Mr. Majors has -been freighting ever since eighteen forty-eight, on the -Santa Fe Trail down into New Mexico. Now the -company hauls all the government stuff from Fort -Leavenworth across the plains to Fort Laramie and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_73"></a>[73]</span> -over to Salt Lake. That train I went out with last -summer carried nearly two hundred thousand pounds -of freight. They’re running about three thousand -wagons now, and use four thousand men. They’re a -big company, but they treat their men right; and whatever -Mr. Russell or Mr. Majors offers you, you take. -If we don’t find either of them at the fort they’ll be in -town, I reckon.”</p> - -<p>Fort Leavenworth was located on the high land, -overlooking the Missouri River, two miles above -Leavenworth City. It was an important, solid fort, -with stone buildings grouped about a large parade -ground, and the flag floating in the breeze. Soldiers -of the infantry, cavalry, and dragoons were moving -hither-thither, drilling or attending to other duties, -and on the outskirts of the post were parked a great -number of freight wagons, attended by their teamsters.</p> - -<p>As he and Davy rode through the wagons, on either -side of the trail, Billy called out to one of the men.</p> - -<p>“Hello, Buck.”</p> - -<p>“Hello, Billy.”</p> - -<p>“Is Mr. Russell around here?”</p> - -<p>“Yes. He’s over at the quartermaster’s office.”</p> - -<p>“When do you pull out, Buck?”</p> - -<p>“Thursday the tenth, Billy.”</p> - -<p>“All right. I’ll be on hand.”</p> - -<p>“That’s Buck Bomer,” explained Billy, as he and -Davy rode on. “He’s the wagon boss I’m going out -with. Now we’ll find Mr. Russell.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_74"></a>[74]</span></p> - -<p>They had no difficulty in passing the guard stationed -beside the road where it entered the edge of -the post. Billy seemed to be a familiar figure here. He -led the way to a large building that looked like a warehouse, -where several freight wagons were standing and -where soldiers and civilians were trudging about, as -if loading freight.</p> - -<p>At the end of the platform Billy slipped off his -horse, and tied him; Dave did likewise.</p> - -<p>“Come on,” bade Billy. “There’s Mr. Russell -now. That sandy little man talking with the officer. -We’ll hail him when we get the chance.”</p> - -<p>They lingered a few minutes, while Billy edged -closer, waiting to be recognized. Davy followed him -about anxiously. Presently Mr. Russell caught sight -of Billy, and smiled and nodded. The officer turned -away, and Billy sprang forward to seize the opportunity.</p> - -<p>“How are you, Billy,” greeted Mr. Russell. -“What can I do for you?”</p> - -<p>“I’ve brought my friend Dave Scott over, Mr. -Russell,” informed Billy. “He’s the boy I spoke -about. He’d like a job, if you can give it to him.”</p> - -<p>Mr. Russell eyed Dave up and down. A small man -was Mr. Russell. He had a freckled complexion, a -rather dried-up appearance, and an abrupt manner; and -he was as keen as tacks. He did not seem to be a man -who could handle rough teamsters; but evidently he<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_75"></a>[75]</span> -could. Davy tried to stand his gaze, and not to be -embarrassed.</p> - -<p>“What can you do?”</p> - -<p>“He’ll tackle anything.”</p> - -<p>“He’s the boy who left his shirt to the buffalo, is -he?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, sir. We all liked him with the wagons.”</p> - -<p>“Well, I can’t send him out this time. We don’t -need him with a train.” Mr. Russell spoke directly to -Davy. “Did you ever herd?”</p> - -<p>“Not much, sir. But I think I could.”</p> - -<p>“Well, you go on down to Leavenworth and see -Mr. Majors. He’s hiring the herding end of the business. -If he wants to take you on, all right.” And Mr. -Russell turned away. He was a man of short speech.</p> - -<p>“Much obliged, Mr. Russell,” answered the two -boys.</p> - -<p>“Come on, Dave,” bade Billy, making for the two -ponies.</p> - -<p>They mounted, to go on to Leavenworth City. -This was in plain sight from the high land where the -fort was located. It was nestled prettily in a wooded -basin beside the river two miles southeast. Fort -Leavenworth was on the trail between it and Salt -Creek Valley, and the trail continued to the Missouri -at the town itself.</p> - -<p>A lively place Leavenworth proved to be. It contained -about five thousand people, living there, and a -lot more who were simply pausing until they had outfitted<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_76"></a>[76]</span> -for the trail westward. The streets were -crowded with teams and wagons and people; and the -river was dotted with rowboats, barges and several -steamboats.</p> - -<p>Billy Cody hustled right along, without giving Dave -much time to look about. Evidently he was bound for -the company office. In fact, suddenly he said so.</p> - -<p>“There’s the Planters’ Hotel, Red,” he spoke, -pointing. “It’s the biggest. The company’s office is -right across the street, kittycorner. See it?”</p> - -<p>Kittycorner from the Planters’ Hotel (which was -a large three-story building, with a wide porch and a -verandah, too, running around its face) Dave saw a -sign reading, in big letters, “Russell, Majors & Waddell,” -on a brick building. The streets hereabouts were -more crowded than at any other point, and the two -boys had difficulty in threading their way, dodging -people and horses and oxen and wagons.</p> - -<p>“Better tie up here,” spoke Billy abruptly, his -quick eye sighting a vacant hitching spot at the sidewalk. -“This place is getting too populous for me; -can’t hardly breathe.”</p> - -<p>They wedged in, tied their horses, and Billy led the -way to the Russell, Majors & Waddell office—headquarters -of the great overland freighting firm.</p> - -<p>“That’s Mr. Majors at the desk,” he informed, -undertone, to Dave, on the threshold. And—“How do -you do, Mr. Waddell?” he said respectfully, as another -man was brushing past them.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_77"></a>[77]</span></p> - -<p>“How-do-do, Billy,” responded the man. “Back -again, are you?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, sir.”</p> - -<p>“Well, take care of yourself, my boy,” and Mr. -Waddell hastened away, as if on matters important.</p> - -<p>“He’s the third partner,” whispered Billy. “But -you don’t see him very often. Mr. Majors and Mr. -Russell seem to run the plains part of the business.”</p> - -<p>Mr. Waddell had been a stoutly-built man, with -florid complexion and full, heavy face inclining to jaw. -Mr. Majors was almost his opposite, being a rather -tall man, although strongly built, with a kindly, sober -face and a long brown beard. As Billy and Dave approached -his desk he glanced up.</p> - -<p>“How do you do, Mr. Majors?” said Billy, hat in -hand.</p> - -<p>“How are you, Billy?”</p> - -<p>“This is my friend Dave Scott, Mr. Majors. He’s -looking for a job. He’s been staying at my house since -we came in last month with Lew Simpson’s train from -Laramie. I’m going out again in a day or so, and he -wants to get to work. We saw Mr. Russell up at the -fort, and he said for us to come down here to see you.”</p> - -<p>“When did you see him?” queried Mr. Majors -crisply.</p> - -<p>“We just come from him. He thought there might -be a job of herding open.”</p> - -<p>“That boy’s pretty young.”</p> - -<p>“He’s not any younger than I was when I started<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_78"></a>[78]</span> -in, Mr. Majors.” Billy spoke like a man, and Mr. -Majors appeared to regard him as a man.</p> - -<p>“Where are your parents?” asked Mr. Majors of -Davy.</p> - -<p>Dave gulped.</p> - -<p>“I haven’t any. I was with my uncle.”</p> - -<p>“Where’s he?”</p> - -<p>Davy shook his head and gulped again. Billy -helped him out.</p> - -<p>“The Injuns struck their wagon on the trail and -wiped them out, Mr. Majors. The Cut Nose band had -Dave, and he came into our train after that mule fort -fight. He made good with us; Lew Simpson and Wild -Bill and George Woods and everybody will say that; -and he’ll make good anywhere you put him, I believe.”</p> - -<p>“Well,” said Mr. Majors, “if he has no folks -that’s a different matter. I don’t want to encourage -any boy to leave his home when he ought to be going -to school, and getting the right bringing up generally. -It’s a rough life for a boy or man either out on the -plains. Do you swear?” he demanded, suddenly.</p> - -<p>Dave stammered.</p> - -<p>“I don’t mean to. I don’t think I do.”</p> - -<p>“That’s right,” asserted Mr. Majors. “I won’t -have anybody around or working for our company who -blasphemes or lies. I won’t have it at all. There’s no -sense in swearing. All right then. I can put you at -herding, if you really want to work. We’ll pay you<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_79"></a>[79]</span> -twenty-five dollars a month, the same as we pay all -herders. Got a horse?”</p> - -<p>“No, sir,” said Davy.</p> - -<p>“That doesn’t matter. We’ll furnish you a mount, -of course. You can have the one that other herder’s -using. I hope you’ll make a better herder than most -of the others. Herding is a business just like any -other business, my boy. Whatever you do, do well. -If you make a good herder, we’ll give you a chance at -something more. Nearly everybody has to start in at -herding. Billy here did. Now he’s drawing full pay -with the wagon trains. He’ll tell you what to do. You -can sign the pay roll and start in this afternoon. Mr. -Meyers,” and Mr. Majors addressed his book-keeper, -“have this boy sign the pay roll and the pledge. He’s -going on herd, with the cattle out west of town.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, Mr. Majors,” answered the book-keeper, -opening a large book. “Come over here, boy.”</p> - -<p>Davy thought this rather sudden, but made no comment. -He walked boldly over to the book-keeper.</p> - -<p>“Sign here,” bade Mr. Meyers, indicating with his -finger. And Davy wrote, in his best manner: “David -Scott.”</p> - -<p>“Here’s something else,” bade the book-keeper. -“Better read it. We all have to sign it, if we work for -the company.”</p> - -<p>Davy read the slip. It said:</p> - -<p>“While I am in the employ of Russell, Majors & -Waddell, I agree not to use profane language, not to<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_80"></a>[80]</span> -get drunk, not to gamble, not to treat animals cruelly, -and not to do anything else that is incompatible with -the conduct of a gentleman. And I agree, if I violate -any of the above conditions, to accept my discharge -without any pay for my services.”</p> - -<p>Mr. Majors had strolled over, to inspect, as Davy -signed. He nodded.</p> - -<p>“I’m glad to see you can write, my boy,” he said. -“That’s more than some of the men can do. Billy -here had to make his mark the first time he signed -with us.”</p> - -<p>“He can write now, though,” informed Davy, -loyally, remembering the scribbling on the wagon. -“I’ve seen him.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, Billy’s found out that he’s no worse off for -having put in some time at school. He’ll be glad -enough of all the school that he can get before he’s -gone much farther. Have you got bedding, my boy?”</p> - -<p>“N-no, I haven’t,” faltered Davy. “Maybe I can -find some though.”</p> - -<p>“We can rake up a quilt or two for you,” offered -Mr. Majors. But Billy spoke quickly.</p> - -<p>“No; we’ll fix him out with bedding. We’ve some -extra quilts at the house, Mr. Majors. I’ll get them -on our way out.”</p> - -<p>“Can you go out with him, Billy, and tell him what -to do? Number two herd is out six miles. You can -find it. Stop at the fort and tell Mr. Russell to furnish -him a mule.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_81"></a>[81]</span></p> - -<p>“Yes, sir.”</p> - -<p>“All right. You take him and post him.” Mr. -Majors extended his hand to Davy, who shook with -him. “Do your duty, and a little more whenever you -have the chance; don’t curse, don’t learn to drink, -keep Sunday as much as you can, read the Bible, and -look people in the face. Don’t do anything your mother -wouldn’t want you to do. I hope to hear a good report -of you. We need the right kind of men in the west, -and the boy like you will make the man of to-morrow.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, sir,” said Davy. “I’ll try.”</p> - -<p>He followed Billy out; and they remounted their -ponies.</p> - -<p>“Good,” remarked Billy, as they rode away up -the thronged street. “Mr. Majors is a queer sort, but -he’s the right stuff. He’s a crank on swearing and -drinking. We all have to sign that pledge, and if he -hears a man swearing he goes straight to him and -makes him quit. But everybody likes Mr. Majors, -and they all try to keep the pledge. Mr. Russell isn’t -so strict, though he backs up Mr. Majors. That’s a -new wrinkle to the plains—that pledge business.”</p> - -<p>Davy nodded.</p> - -<p>“There’s no sense in swearing, anyhow,” mused -Billy. “Jiminy, but my mother hated to have me -start out bull whacking. It’s a tough life, and some of -the teamsters, too, are about as tough as you make -’em. Ma saw Mr. Russell and Mr. Majors and they -talked with her and said they’d look out for me: and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_82"></a>[82]</span> -she read the pledge, and so she let me go. Lew Simpson -is a hard looker, you know. She didn’t like him -until she found out from Mr. Russell that he wasn’t -half as bad as he seemed. I’m mighty glad I’m here -to post you on that herding business. It’s no easy -job herding a thousand cattle. But you’ll make good. -All you have to do is to tend to your job. Mother’ll -fix you up with bedding, and if you need any clothes -that we haven’t got, you can get them on the company -account and they’ll take it out of your pay. See?”</p> - -<p>So, Billy chatting and Davy listening, they trotted -along on the road up to the fort.</p> - -<p>Mr. Russell was still at the quartermaster’s building -busy loading a bull train and checking it up. Billy -reported to him, and he nodded.</p> - -<p>“All right,” he said. “On your way out you tell -Buck Bomer to give you a mule from his outfit.”</p> - -<p>They found Buck in the wagon camp outside the -fort. He turned over to them a little mouse-colored -mule, with a rawhide bridle and an old stock saddle. -The bridle had rope lines and the saddle was worn and -ragged, and the saddle-blanket was a piece of sacking. -Altogether the equipment looked rather sorry, but -Davy said not a word. He made up his mind that he -would be better than his outfit.</p> - -<p>“You don’t care,” consoled Billy. “It’s good -enough as a starter. If you need better you’ll get it -after a while. We’ll stop at the house, and get the other -stuff. Then we’ll go on. I know where the herd is.”</p> -<hr class="chap" /> - - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_83"></a>[83]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="VI">VI<br /> -<small>DAVY HAS AN ADVENTURE</small></h2> -</div> - - -<p>At least a thousand cattle were spread out, grazing -in the grassy bottom. Much of the grass was still -green, some patches had been cured by the sun; and -the broad expanse, under the blue sky, with the shadows -of the cattle now clearly cast by the setting sun, made -a pleasant picture. On the edges of the grazing herd -were the herders, sitting their horses or mules. The -canvas top of the mess wagon shone white beyond -the herd. Down the hill into the valley, and up the -opposite hill, out of the valley, were toiling slowly -two emigrant trains of wagons and people, following -the Overland Trail into the farther west.</p> - -<p>“We’ll go over to the mess wagon and I’ll introduce -you; then I’ll skip back,” said Billy. “Stand in -with the cook, do what the boss tells you, mind your -own business, and you’ll get along fine. Don’t be -fresh, that’s all.”</p> - -<p>Davy resolved that he would remember. He -wanted to be a success.</p> - -<p>On their mounts they galloped across the turfy bottom, -and rounding the herd arrived at the mess wagon. -Smoke was already rising from the cook’s fire; and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_84"></a>[84]</span> -the cook himself was moving about, from wagon to -fire, and fussing with his row of black kettles, set -beside the fire or atop the coals. The fire had been -made in a long shallow trench. The pots had covers -on them. Their steam smelled good.</p> - -<p>The cook merely glanced up as the two boys approached. -Halting and dismounting nimbly, Billy -hailed him.</p> - -<p>“Hello, Sam.”</p> - -<p>The cook now paused and gazed. He was a short, -pudgy man, with a big bristly moustache and a broken -nose. He wore a wide brimmed hat and a floursack -apron, and boots. Odd enough he looked, cooking at -the fire.</p> - -<p>“Hello, Billy. What’s the matter?”</p> - -<p>“Nothing much. Sam, this is Dave Scott, a friend -of mine. He’s going on herd. Dave, shake hands -with Sam Bean, the best cook on the plains.”</p> - -<p>Davy advanced and shook hands with Sam.</p> - -<p>“Shucks,” mused Sam, surveying Dave. “Another -kid, is it? Who sent him out; the old man?”</p> - -<p>“Yes; Mr. Majors. Mr. Russell, too.”</p> - -<p>“Well,” said Sam, proceeding with his cooking, -“I hope he’s a better kid than that other one we’ve -had. That lad was no good. All he thought of was -eatin’ an’ sleepin’.”</p> - -<p>“Davy’ll make good, all right,” assured Billy, -loyally. “I’ll back him up on that. He came in with -us in Lew Simpson’s train.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_85"></a>[85]</span></p> - -<p>“He’s the kid who left his shirt to the buffalo?” -queried Sam.</p> - -<p>“You bet,” answered Billy.</p> - -<p>“Huh!” grunted Sam, now surveying Davy with -new interest and a little respect.</p> - -<p>“Where’s the boss?” asked Billy.</p> - -<p>“Comin’,” said Sam, with jerk of his head.</p> - -<p>A horseman was galloping in from the herd; but -part way he whirled, and went back again.</p> - -<p>“That’s Hank Bassett, isn’t it?” asked Billy, keen -eyed. “He’s a good one, Dave. He’ll treat you right -if you don’t get fresh. Well, I reckon I’ll light out. -I’ll leave you with Sam. See you later.”</p> - -<p>He shook hands with Dave and climbed on his -pony.</p> - -<p>“Where you bound, Billy?” queried Sam.</p> - -<p>“Going out again Thursday with Buck Bomer to -Laramie.”</p> - -<p>“Good luck.”</p> - -<p>“Same to you,” replied Billy, and rode away. -Looking back once, he waved his hand; Sam and Dave -waved answer.</p> - -<p>“Might as well unpack your mule an’ lay out your -beddin’,” advised Sam, gruffly, to Dave. “Wouldn’t -unsaddle yet, though. Wait till the boss comes in. -Tie your mule to a wagon wheel.”</p> - -<p>Davy promptly set about it; he unpacked his bedding, -and tied his mule.</p> - -<p>“If you’re not too busy,” quoth Sam, sarcastically,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_86"></a>[86]</span> -“you might fetch me in some more buffalo chips, if -you can find ’em. There ought to be some, out a ways, -if those blamed emigrants ain’t cleaned ’em up. It’s -a wonder to me how far they’ll go lookin’ for fuel. -Here, take a sack.” And he tossed an old gunny sack -at Davy. “Jest pile ’em on it; don’t stop to stuff ’em -inside.”</p> - -<p>Davy alertly seized the sacking, and started out. -He knew what buffalo chips were: the dried droppings -of the buffalo that used to roam by thousands -through the valley. They had been driven out of it, -largely by the traffic, but they had left their wallows -and their “chips.”</p> - -<p>The chips had been well gleaned for other cooks, -and he must wander some distance from the wagon -before he found enough to pay for the picking up. -However, in due time he returned with all that the -sack could hold. The buffalo chips made a fine fire, -with little smoke and much heat. And they were easy -and cheap. Everybody used them in travelling across -the plains.</p> - -<p>Sam grunted, whether pleased or not, as Davy -dumped the load by the fire.</p> - -<p>“Now fetch me some fresh water from the creek, -will you?” bade Sam. “There’s a bucket.”</p> - -<p>The creek was a side branch of the Salt Creek, and -both streams were running low; but Davy managed -to dip the bucket almost full of water. He brought it<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_87"></a>[87]</span> -back. Sam grunted what might have been thanks -or not.</p> - -<p>“There comes the boss,” he said.</p> - -<p>The man on the white horse was galloping in again; -presently he dismounted at the fire. He was a tall -man, with scraggy beard, gray eyes and a very tanned -skin. He wore slouch hat, blue flannel shirt, jeans -trousers and boots. He glanced keenly at Dave.</p> - -<p>“Here’s another kid for you to break in, Hank,” -informed the cook shortly.</p> - -<p>“How’d you get here?” demanded Hank of Dave.</p> - -<p>“Billy Cody fetched him out,” said the cook, over -his shoulder, from the wagon.</p> - -<p>“Who sent him?”</p> - -<p>“Mr. Russell and Mr. Majors told me to come out -and help herd,” answered Davy, speaking for himself.</p> - -<p>“Did you ever herd before?”</p> - -<p>“No, sir; except with an emigrant train. I herded -horses and cattle there some.”</p> - -<p>“Have you crossed the plains?”</p> - -<p>“Just part way.”</p> - -<p>“He’s the kid the Injuns had when they corralled -Simpson and Woods and little Billy, out near Cedar -Bluffs last summer,” reported Sam the cook. “Billy -says he’s all right.”</p> - -<p>“Well, he’s a different color, anyhow,” remarked -Hank, referring to Davy’s red head. “How old are -you?”</p> - -<p>“Ten going on ’leven,” replied Davy.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_88"></a>[88]</span></p> - -<p>“What’s your name?”</p> - -<p>“David Scott. Billy and the others call me ‘Red.’”</p> - -<p>“Got any folks?”</p> - -<p>“No, sir.”</p> - -<p>“Injuns wiped ’em out,” informed Sam the cook. -“Remember?”</p> - -<p>Hank nodded.</p> - -<p>“Yes. All right,” he continued, in tone more -kindly, to Dave; “you can help the cook to-night. In -the morning you can go on herd, and see if you can -hold the job. That red thatch ought to give you plenty -of spunk, anyhow!”</p> - -<p>“Yes, sir,” said Davy, encouraged.</p> - -<p>Two herders came in for supper, leaving one on -guard over the herd. They were rough-appearing -men, and Davy and his red head had to take considerable -banter and joking. He stood that well. He tried -not to be “fresh” or impertinent; and when he didn’t -know what he ought to say he said nothing and only -grinned. After a while the men seemed to accept him -as a pretty good kind of a boy. The fact that Billy -Cody had vouched for him was a great help.</p> - -<p>That night Davy slept on the ground again (as he -had slept when with the wagon trains), rolled in his -quilts, his saddle for a pillow. Breakfast was called -before sunrise; and after breakfast he went out on -herd.</p> - -<p>“You’ll be eight hours on and four off,” instructed -Hank, “except when you ride in for meals. Tend to<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_89"></a>[89]</span> -business and don’t bother the cattle except when they’re -straying. They’re here to rest and get their flesh on. -When they stray too far turn ’em back, but don’t run -’em. I suppose Billy told you about what to do, didn’t -he?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, sir; he told me to look out for Indians and -emigrants passing through.”</p> - -<p>There were two herders for the herd to which Davy -was appointed. Davy thought that he was lucky in -his partner, whose name was the Reverend Benjamin -Baxter. When the other men had called him “Reverend,” -Davy thought they were joking; but he found -out that Mr. Baxter actually was a minister of the -gospel. He was a pleasant-faced, thin young man, -with dark eyes and hollow cheeks, and an occasional -cough. Evidently he was out on the plains for his -health. His home was Massachusetts; but in his plains -garb and his tan he looked as much of a Westerner as -any Missourian. Yes, Davy was lucky to be paired -off with Mr. Baxter, who had been well educated and -whom everybody seemed to like because, while he was -a “preacher” he was also much of a man.</p> - -<p>“You ride around your half of the herd and I’ll -ride around my half, Davy,” said Mr. Baxter. -“When we’re about to meet we’ll turn back. Take -things easy. You don’t have to ride every minute, -you know; just enough to keep the cattle from straying -out where they’re liable to get out of sight or be picked<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_90"></a>[90]</span> -up by somebody passing. I’ll let you know when it’s -time to go in for dinner.”</p> - -<p>The herding did not strike Davy as hard work, -except that it was rather monotonous and steady. It -was more interesting at first than later. The cattle, -spread out loosely over a wide area, required considerable -of a ride along their edges. They were all -work cattle—steers or oxen, young and old, used for -hauling the wagons of the Russell, Majors & Waddell -“bull trains.” Some were decrepit, worn out in the -hard service across the plains; others were yet strong, -and needed only rest and feed. In the beginning Davy -bestirred himself more than was required; he was so -afraid lest any of them might stray too far. Soon -he was sharp enough to note that as long as they were -only grazing, and he could keep his eyes on them, the -stragglers might be permitted to have a little freedom -to pick the best grass. In fact, the whole herd constantly -shifted ground, gradually moving on from -clump to clump and patch to patch.</p> - -<p>About the middle of the morning Mr. Baxter’s first -shift of eight hours was up, and another herder relieved -him.</p> - -<p>“Now I’ll take a sleep,” he called back, gaily, -to Dave as he galloped for the wagon. “Have to -sleep when we can, you know.”</p> - -<p>Davy continued his herding with the new partner—who -was gruff and silent, very different from Mr.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_91"></a>[91]</span> -Baxter. However, that made little difference, for -herding did not give much chance to gossip.</p> - -<p>At noon Davy was sent in for his turn at dinner; -and when his four hours recess arrived he was glad -to dismount at the wagon and lie in the shade. After -he had served half the night on night guard and had -not made any mistakes, when he crawled in, in the -chill and dark, under his quilts, and settled for his short -sleep, he felt like a veteran.</p> - -<p>So the days and nights passed, of long hours in -the saddle and short hours afoot. The bull herd moved -from pasturage to pasturage, with Sam and his mess -wagon keeping handy. The days were sunny fall, the -nights were crisp, the air pure except for the dust stirred -up by the hoofs of the herd or sometimes drifting from -the great trail, the cattle gave little trouble, the mess -food was plenty although about the same every meal, -and herding on the plains proved not such a disagreeable -business as might have been expected.</p> - -<p>The chief annoyance was the rattlesnakes—although -Sam and Hank and several others claimed that -the emigrants and the cattle had cleaned about all the -snakes out. However, on his first day Davy rode over -two, and scarcely a day passed that he did not see three -or four. He was told that he must not let one bite his -mule, for mules often died from snake bite. Horses -and cattle seemed stronger; anyway, the cattle of the -bull herd seemed to be what Mr. Baxter called “snake<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_92"></a>[92]</span> -educated”; Davy could tell from their movements -that a rattlesnake was near them.</p> - -<p>The most interesting part of herding was the sight -of the travel on the great Overland Trail. The Trail -entered the Salt Creek Valley by a hill on the east and -left it by a hill on the west; and at any hour of the day -the white-topped wagons of emigrant train and freight -train could be seen descending and crossing and ascending, -some bound to Leavenworth, but the majority -bound westward for the plains trip.</p> - -<p>Where they all were going Davy used to wonder. -It seemed as though everybody from the East was -moving into the far West. Of course, some of the -emigrants were bound for western Kansas, where in -Arapahoe County, at the base of the Rocky Mountains, -people were seeking for gold. Some were hoping -to take up farms in Kansas. Others were aiming for -the Salt Lake region, where the Mormons under -Brigham Young had settled. And others were bound -clear across the continent to California for gold and -for land. And many did not know exactly where they -were going, except that they were moving west, ever -west, to found new homes. The freight trains of the -great Russell, Majors & Waddell Company were carrying -government stores to Fort Kearney, in Nebraska, -and Fort Laramie, also of Nebraska, on the North -Platte, and Fort Bridger, in Utah, and Salt Lake, -where troops had been sent last winter. The dusty -trail, bordered by camps old and new, and by abandoned<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_93"></a>[93]</span> -pots and pans and boxes and clothing and deserted -skeletons of cattle and horses, was never vacant, -night or day. Whenever the herding business led -Davy near to it he viewed it with wonder.</p> - -<p>Herding took all of Davy’s time. Occasionally -Hank Bassett went into Leavenworth, and occasionally -the other men rode in—all but Mr. Baxter. He and -Davy stayed out. The weather continued clear and -pleasant, with the days soft and sunny, and the nights -crisp and still. Nobody paid much attention to Davy -now, for he was proving a good herder, and was accepted -as a member of the herding mess. He was as -hard as nails, everything he ate tasted good, long hours -on mule back did not stiffen him, and he thought that -he knew every steer in the big herd.</p> - -<p>One big steer he especially watched. It was a large -red and white steer, with a sore hoof which did not -heal. Every now and again a portion of the herd was -separated and driven in to Fort Leavenworth for another -trip across the plains; and new bunches took -their places, to rest up again. But the old red and -white steer stayed. He was foot sore, but he also was -a wanderer, for he loved to stray. Several times during -each day he would edge out farther and farther, leading -some of his cronies; and in due time Davy must -ride in front of him and turn him back. He was a -pesky animal, and caused much trouble; the third -herder wanted him killed, but Davy and Mr. Baxter -only laughed and kept persuading Hank to save him.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_94"></a>[94]</span> -After all, he was only a steer, with a mind of his own. -Maybe he would get well. Davy rather hoped that he -wouldn’t; he seemed to have such a good time, and -the worked cattle were so gaunt and scarred when -they returned from their long, hard trips.</p> - -<p>Now it was November of 1858. The days were -shorter, the nights were colder, the grass was failing, -and Indian summer was about to end. Soon the herds -would be taken off the plains, for the snow was due -and there would not be enough feed. One day Mr. -Baxter was ill in camp; the other herder was off, and -Davy found himself left on herd alone for a brief -time. This he did not mind. He felt capable of handling -the herd himself. So he slowly rode around and -around, occasionally halting for a survey of the landscape.</p> - -<p>This week the herd had drifted farther than usual -from the trail and from the settlements, to the very -edge of the Salt Creek Valley, where in numerous -pockets amidst low hill the grass was still abundant. -Davy never understood exactly how it happened, but -all of a sudden he missed the red and white lame ox. -His eyes ran rapidly over the herd, seeking the old -fellow. The red and white ox was a “marker”; when -he was present then the chances were that the herd was -holding together, but when he was absent then something -must be done at once.</p> - -<p>Well, he was absent; he was not even in sight. This -meant that probably he had led off a dozen or so followers.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_95"></a>[95]</span> -From his mule Davy cast keen gaze over the -herd and over the surrounding rolling country.</p> - -<p>“Gwan!” he ordered to his mouse-colored mule, -and striking into a gallop he set off on a wide circle.</p> - -<p>From the top of the nearest rise he saw nothing -moving. But the top of the second gave him a wide -view—and he saw something of much interest. There, -about half a mile from him, and out in the open, was -a line of moving dots. He made out the red and -white steer—he recognized the color and the limp. At -least a dozen other cattle were with him. They were -strung out in a little group; and behind, several horsemen -were driving them. Yes, actually driving them! -Indians! Indians were driving off a bunch of strays!</p> - -<p>Davy’s heart skipped a beat and suddenly thumped -violently. But he didn’t sit looking long. Not he. He -knew what Billy Cody would do, and he knew what -any herder with spunk would do. He clapped his heels -against his mule and away he went straight for the -Indians.</p> - -<p>They might be Kickapoos. Kickapoos from the -reservation frequently visited the cattle camps to beg -for food and clothes; and many of them would carry -off more than was given to them. A sick steer was -their especial delight. They picked up strays, too, -when they could. So likely enough these Indians were -Kickapoos. Davy was not afraid of Kickapoos, although, -of course, any Indian might be surly when he -had the advantage.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_96"></a>[96]</span></p> - -<p>On galloped Davy, urging his mule. The Indians -had seen him, for they tried to quicken their pace; -but the lame steer held them back. Good for the lame -steer, who could not travel fast! So Davy rapidly -drew nearer.</p> - -<p>As he approached he made up his mind that these -were not Kickapoos. They wore blankets like any -Indians, but their hair was not worn like that of Kickapoos, -whose hair was combed back smoothly. And -they were not Osages—another reservation tribe of -Kansas. The hair of the Osages was roached like a -rooster’s comb. No; by their braids and by the way -they rode these were Cheyennes or Sioux! Whew! -That was bad.</p> - -<p>They did not even glance around as Davy rode -upon them. Still at a gallop he rode around them, and -whirling short, bravely throwing up his hand, halted -squarely in the path. The baker’s dozen of steers -(there were thirteen of them) bunched and stopped, -panting. The Indians stared fixedly at Davy; two of -them rode forward.</p> - -<p>Yes, they were Cheyennes, except one Sioux; and -the leader was Tall Bull!</p> - -<p>“What are you doing with those cattle?” demanded -Davy.</p> - -<p>“Go. Our cattle,” grunted Tall Bull.</p> - -<p>“They aren’t, either,” retorted Davy. “They’re -my cattle from that herd yonder.”</p> - -<p>“No,” denied Tall Bull, angrily; his companion’s<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_97"></a>[97]</span> -eyes were blazing. Davy felt them, and the hot eyes -of the four other Indians, in the rear. “You go. -Our cattle.”</p> - -<p>“Where’d you get them, then?” demanded Davy.</p> - -<p>“Buy ’em. Take ’em an’ eat ’em. Puckachee! -(Get out!)”</p> - -<p>“Puckachee yourself,” answered Davy, now -angry. “You can’t have ’em. I take ’em back. -Savvy? They belong to Russell, Majors & Waddell. -See that brand?”</p> - -<p>The two Indians grunted one to another. The -Indians behind called in their own language.</p> - -<p>“Get out of the way,” ordered Davy, boldly. “Gee, -Buck! Whitey! Gee-haw!”</p> - -<p>The cattle began to turn; but Tall Bull interposed -by reining his pony and forcing them around again.</p> - -<p>“No whoa-haws; ours. Buy ’em. How much?”</p> - -<p>“Can’t sell ’em. Whoa-haw cattle. Gee, Buck! -Get out of the way, you two.”</p> - -<p>“Give one. Give one, take rest.”</p> - -<p>“No!” stormed Davy, stoutly. “None.”</p> - -<p>The Indians all were armed with bows and arrows. -Suddenly the old Indian with Tall Bull strung his bow -like lightning, fitted arrow to string, and Davy found -the steel head quivering on taut string within six inches -of his chest. The black eyes of the Indian glared into -his, the swarthy face was fierce with a scowl of hatred.</p> - -<p>Davy did not dare to move; even if he had had a -gun or pistol he could not have used it. The arrow<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_98"></a>[98]</span> -would have been through him before he could pull -trigger. There he must sit, waiting for the string to -be released. His flesh in front of the arrow point -shrank and stung, as if already the keen point had -driven into it. If the Indian’s finger should slip—!</p> - -<p>Half a minute passed; it seemed to Davy like an -hour. Tall Bull spoke again.</p> - -<p><a href="#i_fp098">“Two; give two,” he urged meaningly. “Take -rest.”</a></p> - -<div class="figcenter" id="i_fp098"> - <img src="images/i_fp098.jpg" alt="" title="" /> - <div class="caption"> - <p class="noic"><a href="#Page_98">“TWO; GIVE TWO,” HE URGED, MEANINGLY. “TAKE REST”</a></p> - </div> -</div> - -<p>Davy shook his head. He felt white and queer, but -his mind was made up.</p> - -<p>“No,” he answered, trying to speak naturally, but -suspecting that his voice was rather shaky. “None.”</p> - -<p>The arrow head was still at his breast; the Indian’s -bow was still stretched taut until it quivered with the -strain; the Indian’s eyes glared, his face scowled. -Davy did not glance aside. He was afraid to.</p> - -<p>“One,” now urged Tall Bull. “Boy give one, or -mebbe boy die an’ lose all.”</p> - -<p>Davy shook his head.</p> - -<p>“No.”</p> - -<p>Now another Indian rode forward. With the -corner of his eye Davy saw that he was the Sioux. -The Sioux spoke to the two Cheyennes; they grunted -answer, and the bow of the old warrior slowly relaxed, -as if it hated to.</p> - -<p>The Sioux extended his hand to Davy. He was a -young buck, and good looking, with a sober cast of -features.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_99"></a>[99]</span></p> - -<p>“How, cola? (How do you do, friend?)” he said; -and Davy shook hands with him. “All right. Brave -boy. You go. Take cattle. Goodby.”</p> - -<p>“Goodby,” said Davy. He promptly turned the -lame steer aside and the others followed. He did not -delay a moment. Would the Indians try to stop him -again? No; they let him work. Driving the steers he -started on the back trail, past the three Indians in the -rear. Every moment he expected to feel an arrow -plump into him between his shoulders; but he did not -even look around. He attended to business. When at -last he did look around, the six Indians were riding -along at a jog. Davy quickened his pace, and when he -arrived with his little bunch at the herd he was glad -indeed.</p> - -<p>He had proved his mettle. He felt that nobody -would have done better.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_100"></a>[100]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="VII">VII<br /> -<small>DAVY CHANGES JOBS</small></h2> -</div> - - -<p>The Reverend Mr. Baxter came on herd soon; and -Davy told him about the Indians.</p> - -<p>“You might have let them go, Davy,” said Mr. -Baxter, “and nobody would have blamed you.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, sir; but I couldn’t,” answered Davy.</p> - -<p>“Well,” mused Mr. Baxter, gazing at him with a -rueful smile, “I don’t believe I could either. But lots -of fellows would. Six armed Indians are rather many -for one unarmed boy to tackle. But right makes -might, Davy.”</p> - -<p>“Yes,” agreed Davy. “I guess it does.”</p> - -<p>Anyway, Hank Bassett and Sam the cook and the -other men in the camp congratulated Davy on his -spunk, until he wished that Billy Cody was there to -know. But Billy was out with the bull train, and -nobody might say when he would turn up again at this -end of the trail.</p> - -<p>“I guess I’ll send you in with a part of the herd -to-morrow, Red,” quoth Hank, as if that were a reward -for Davy’s pluck. “How’d you like to see Leavenworth -again?”</p> - -<p>“First-rate, Mr. Bassett,” answered Davy.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_101"></a>[101]</span></p> - -<p>“You and the Reverend can drive a bunch in as -soon as we cut ’em out in the morning. Then you’d -better report at the office. I don’t think we’ll need you -out here till spring.”</p> - -<p>That was good word—at least, the Leavenworth -trip was. Davy felt as though he would be glad to -see people and buildings again and mingle with the -world. Besides, he would be paid off at last, and -would have a pocket full of money well earned.</p> - -<p>“All right, Davy,” spoke Mr. Baxter, with a grin. -“We’ll take in the sights and buy a suit of clothes to -boot, won’t we!”</p> - -<p>Davy nodded happily.</p> - -<p>The herd had drifted near to the great trail again, -so he and Mr. Baxter drove their bunch along that -route for the fort where they were to be delivered to -the company. Riding behind in the dust on one flank -while Mr. Baxter rode on the other, Davy felt like a -veteran.</p> - -<p>The fort was eight miles distant, about three hours -drive if they did not hurry. The best of the steers -had been cut out from the main herd, so that without -difficulty or pushing the trip might easily be made in -less than three hours. The trail was still lively, with -bull trains and overlanders making their best speed -westward, to cross to their destination before the fall -storms set in.</p> - -<p>One outfit, drawing aside to give the cattle room, -hailed Davy with a question. It was an emigrant outfit,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_102"></a>[102]</span> -of a farm wagon covered with dingy cotton-cloth -hood, hauled by a yoke of oxen. A woman holding a -baby peered from the seat; a boy and girl about Davy’s -age trudged alongside, a sallow, whiskered man, walking, -drove with an ox-goad, and a younger man rode -a mule.</p> - -<p>“How much further to the Cherry Creek gold -diggin’s, young feller?” queried the whiskered man.</p> - -<p>“About seven hundred miles,” answered Davy.</p> - -<p>“When can we see the mountings?” quavered the -woman, anxiously.</p> - -<p>“Oh, goodness!” laughed Davy. “Not for a long -time. You’ve got to cross the plains yet.”</p> - -<p>“I didn’t think it was so fur,” she sighed. “Do -you hear they’re findin’ lots of gold there?”</p> - -<p>“You didn’t come from out thar, did you?” asked -the younger man.</p> - -<p>“No,” said Davy. “We’ve been herding in the -valley here.”</p> - -<p>“Keep going and you’ll arrive sometime,” called -Mr. Baxter. And he and Davy passed on.</p> - -<p>“That’s pretty tough, Dave,” he spoke across as -they proceeded in the one direction while the wagon -proceeded in the other. “Those people haven’t any -more idea where the Cherry Creek country is than these -cattle have; but there they go, woman and baby and -all. They’ll find what seven hundred miles of ox -travel means before they get through. And then they’re -liable to be disappointed.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_103"></a>[103]</span></p> - -<p>“Don’t you think there’s any gold out there?” -asked Davy.</p> - -<p>“Oh, folks have been panning out a little gold for -half a dozen years, but it hasn’t amounted to shucks. -I’d rather take my chances herding cattle. Expect -we’ll know more about it soon now. A gang are out -there from Georgia, who know how to mine; and the -governor sent out another gang from Lawrence last -summer, you know, to locate a town and report back.”</p> - -<p>That was so. Davy was familiar with the name -“Cherry Creek,” which seemed to be a new gold region -lying out at the foot of the Rocky Mountains, near -Pike’s Peak. But, like Mr. Baxter, the majority of the -herders and teamsters seemed to put little stock in it. -They were waiting to “see color,” as some of them -who had been to Salt Lake and to California put it.</p> - -<p>Behind, a little party of travellers eastward bound -along the trail were overtaking the herd. There were -three of them mule-back, driving a couple of pack -mules. As they passed on Mr. Baxter’s side they -cheered and waved good-naturedly.</p> - -<p>“Hurrah for Cherry Creek!” they hallooed. -“You’re heading the wrong way, pardner.”</p> - -<p>“Why?”</p> - -<p>“Turn around and make your fortune. That’s -why.”</p> - -<p>“Already made it,” retorted Mr. Baxter.</p> - -<p>“How, stranger?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_104"></a>[104]</span></p> - -<p>“Herding cattle at twenty-five a month and grub. -Have you made yours?”</p> - -<p>“Mighty near. We’ve seen gold. The Georgia -crowd’s been finding it. We’re just back from the -Cherry Creek diggin’s. Thar’s plenty color thar, we -tell you.”</p> - -<p>“Show me some.”</p> - -<p>“Hain’t got it, stranger. But it’s thar. We’re -goin’ back in the spring. Better join us. Go out an’ -buy lots in St. Charles City.”</p> - -<p>“No, sir. Buy ’em in Auraria, across the creek,” -shouted another. “Auraria’s booming; St. Charles -won’t last.”</p> - -<p>“Thanks,” laughed Mr. Baxter. “I’ll think about -it. Just now twenty-five dollars in the pocket seems -better than nothing in a hole in the ground.”</p> - -<p>“Wall, you’ll miss out,” warned one of the men -as the little party pressed on in a great hurry.</p> - -<p>Mr. Baxter laughed and bantered all the way in to -Leavenworth.</p> - -<p>“We want to see some of that gold before we pack -up and go on a wild goose chase, don’t we, Davy?” -he called. “And I’d rather have a yoke of steers on -the hoof than a city lot on paper.”</p> - -<p>This sounded like wisdom; but Davy imagined -what an effect the report of those returned Cherry -Creekers would have on that emigrant wagon! The -men and the woman would be looking for the mountains -more eagerly than ever.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_105"></a>[105]</span></p> - -<p>He and Mr. Baxter turned the bunch of cattle over -to the Russell, Majors & Waddell’s foreman at the fort, -where another bull train was being made up, loaded -high with government supplies for the west. Buck -Bomer, Billy Cody’s wagon-master, had not come in -yet from the Laramie trip, and there was no news -from Billy himself. He was still out. Report said -that he had gone on from Laramie to another fort, so -nobody could tell when he would be back.</p> - -<p>From the post Davy and Mr. Baxter rode on down -to Leavenworth City. Leavenworth never had seemed -so busy. New buildings had gone up, the streets were -crowded with people and teams, and the levee was -lined with steamboats bound north and south. But -the people all were bound west. They had gathered -from every quarter of the States. The twang of the -Yankee, the drawl of the backwoodsman, and soft slur -of the Southerner mingled in a regular hubbub.</p> - -<p>Mr. Majors was in his office; Mr. Russell was out -somewhere on the trail; Mr. Waddell was down home -at Lexington, Missouri, visiting his family. And who -should be sitting in a chair in the office but Wild Bill -Hickok—as handsome and as gentlemanly as ever.</p> - -<p>“Hello, there,” hailed Wild Bill. “How goes it?”</p> - -<p>Mr. Baxter nodded cheerily at him.</p> - -<p>“Fine,” answered Davy, feeling rather awkward -in his worn-out old clothes and his long hair, but not -ashamed of what he had been doing.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_106"></a>[106]</span></p> - -<p>“I hear you’re making good, boy,” asserted Wild -Bill. “I reckon you can hold your own as well as -Billy.”</p> - -<p>“He certainly can,” claimed Mr. Baxter. “He’s -the hero of the camp.”</p> - -<p>“Bassett sent you in, did he?” queried Mr. -Majors. “How are things at the camp?”</p> - -<p>“Same as usual, Mr. Majors,” answered Mr. -Baxter. “Davy’s a hero now, I suppose you’ve heard.”</p> - -<p>Mr. Majors nodded with his long beard.</p> - -<p>“So they say,” he replied simply. “Well, we’re -reducing our force out in the cattle camps now, so -you two needn’t go back this fall. The cashier’ll pay -you off. And—Dick,” he continued to the cashier, -“give Davy an order for a suit of clothes with the -company’s compliments. Make it clothes, shoes and -hat complete.”</p> - -<p>Davy blushed hotly, and didn’t know quite what to -do. That the word of his adventure with the Indians -had reached the office so quickly was very embarrassing. -But he was glad to get some clothes, and Mr. -Majors had spoken in earnest, so it would have been -bad taste in him to make much ado about what he had -or hadn’t done. Mr. Majors wasn’t a man to say what -he didn’t mean, or to offer more than anybody deserved. -So Davy stammered “Thank you, Mr. -Majors,” and, clapped heartily on the back by Mr. -Baxter, went forward to the cashier.</p> - -<p>“Here you are,” said the cashier, shoving out the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_107"></a>[107]</span> -money and the order. “What’s the news out yonder? -Anybody booming Cherry Creek?”</p> - -<p>“Yes. A bunch of men who claimed they were -from there passed us coming in,” answered Mr. Baxter. -“They had a big story about plenty of gold, but we -noticed they didn’t show any!”</p> - -<p>“Color talks,” remarked Wild Bill. “When I see -color I’m going out thar but not before.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, we’ll all wait a bit,” commented Mr. Majors.</p> - -<p>“Those new towns out there will make more -freight business, Mr. Majors,” said Mr. Baxter.</p> - -<p>“Shouldn’t wonder. We’re hauling down from -Laramie for them now, and up from Bent’s Fort on -the Santa Fe trail. There’ll have to be a new trail -straight across, eventually. But we’ve got about all -the business we can handle. The government work -alone takes thirty-five hundred wagons, four thousand -men and over forty thousand oxen. We’ve hauled -over sixteen million pounds of government freight, -most of it clear through to Utah.”</p> - -<p>Nearly four thousand wagons, four thousand men, -forty thousand bulls! Davy gasped. It certainly was -a big company, and he was proud to be working for -Russell, Majors & Waddell, even if he was only one -in the four thousand.</p> - -<p>“Well,” said Mr. Majors, “I want to thank you -two <em>men</em> for your faithful service and if there’s anything -more I can do for you let me know. Baxter, I<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_108"></a>[108]</span> -suppose you can take care of yourself for a while. -What are you going to do, my boy?”</p> - -<p>“I don’t know,” said Davy, in doubt. “Get -another job, I guess.”</p> - -<p>“Save your money. Don’t spend it foolishly. If -you want to put it on deposit with us we’ll give you a -receipt for it; then you’ll be sure of having it as you -need it.”</p> - -<p>Davy fingered the gold pieces, making his pocket -warm and heavy. There were seven ten-dollar pieces -and one five-dollar piece. He would have liked to -carry them all around for a time until he could show -them to Billy Cody or Billy’s mother. But Mr. -Majors’ offer sounded sensible, so he fished out the ten-dollar -pieces and passed them over to the cashier.</p> - -<p>“I’ll keep five dollars,” he said.</p> - -<p>“What are you and the Reverend going to do?” -queried Wild Bill. “That is, if it’s any of my business.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, Davy can range around with me for a while -till he’s settled,” answered Mr. Baxter. “First thing, -we’ll get a hair cut. I’m going down to St. Louis later, -where I’ve got some folks.”</p> - -<p>“Lookee here, Davy,” pursued Wild Bill; “if you -haven’t any pressing engagement come on out to the -Cody ranch with me. I’m going to ride over thar and -the Reverend can do as he pleases. The Codys will -sure be glad to see you. Mebbe you can get a job for<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_109"></a>[109]</span> -your schooling this winter. Thar’s a fine school opened -again near the Codys, I hear.”</p> - -<p>“That’s right. Go to school while you can. You’ll -never regret it,” put in Mr. Majors. “Then when all -this country’s settled up and you’re among people who -can read and write and figure, you won’t be ashamed. -Besides, you’ll command more wages. The school -house and the church are of more value to this country -than the ox teams. The people with schools and -churches are here to stay and grow.”</p> - -<p>Davy wanted to see the Cody family again, but it -seemed rather tame to be going to school when he -might be riding the plains. He hesitated a moment -until Mr. Baxter said:</p> - -<p>“Billy Cody goes to school when he’s home. He’s -found out that a little education helps a fellow along. -I shouldn’t wonder if his mother turned him into -school again this winter when he gets back.”</p> - -<p>Since Billy Cody the “Boy Scout” went to school -there must be something in it worth while. Davy began -to feel that maybe he, too, who was a kind of hero, -could afford to take a little time off from making himself -famous and attend to making himself more of an -all-round man.</p> - -<p>“All right,” he said to Wild Bill. “I’ll go and see, -anyway.” He shook hands with Mr. Baxter, who -promised to keep track of him, and left with Wild Bill.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Cody and the girls and Turk the dog were -glad indeed to see them. Davy must answer all their<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_110"></a>[110]</span> -questions as to what he had done since he had been -there last. He did not mean to say anything about his -adventure with the Indians, but Wild Bill told it and -praised him, and then there was more ado.</p> - -<p>“Billy’ll be pleased to hear that,” declared Mrs. -Cody. And she sighed. “I wish he were home.”</p> - -<p>“Have you heard from him, Mother Cody?” inquired -Wild Bill.</p> - -<p>“He sent us word from Fort Laramie that he was -going on with a train for another post.”</p> - -<p>“He sent us some money, too,” cried Helen, -proudly.</p> - -<p>“Billy’s a good boy, all right,” nodded Wild Bill.</p> - -<p>“I wish he were home, though,” insisted Mrs. Cody, -quietly. “He ought to have more schooling. These -girls will be far ahead of him. Lack of education -will be a great handicap to him after he gets out among -cultured people.”</p> - -<p>“That’s what we’ve been telling Davy here,” quoth -Wild Bill. “The winter’s no time for him to be on the -plains, anyway. He’d better be going to school till -things open up in the spring. Do you reckon he could -get a place hereabouts where he could work for his -keep while he went to school? ’Tisn’t a right place for -a boy in Leavenworth.”</p> - -<p>“Why,” mused Mrs. Cody, flushing, “we’ve always -got room for Davy or any friend of Billy’s or -yours, Mr. Hickok. Of course, there isn’t much work -for an extra hand. You see, when Billy left he hired<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_111"></a>[111]</span> -a man to tend to the farm. But if Davy’ll stay he’s -welcome.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, Davy’ll stay!” cried the girls, dancing gaily; -and Turk barked. “You will stay, won’t you, Davy? -We’ll have lots of fun.”</p> - -<p>But Davy promptly shook his head.</p> - -<p>“I think you’ve got enough,” he said. Mrs. Cody -did not look at all strong, and the girls were little. -“I guess I’d rather find a place where I can work -enough to pay for my keep.”</p> - -<p>“Well,” resumed Mrs. Cody, “maybe you would -feel more independent, Davy, although you’re welcome -to stay right here as long as you like. But there’s a -new family on a claim about a mile and a half over -yonder. The man’s sick and his wife’s doing too much -work. I expect they’d be glad of somebody to tend -to the chores. You might go over and see.”</p> - -<p>“Come ahead, Davy,” bade Bill.</p> - -<p>“You’ll be back and have supper with us and stay -all night, won’t you?” invited Mrs. Cody, quickly.</p> - -<p>“We’ll get Dave settled first, thank you, Mother -Cody,” called back Bill. “Then we’ll be mighty glad -to stop off if we come this way.”</p> - -<p>“Goodby, Dave,” called the girls. “There’s a -splendid school started. We’re all going.”</p> - -<p>With Bill, Dave rode to the settler’s house spoken of -by Mrs. Cody. That was tremendously kind of Wild -Bill, to go to so much trouble for just a boy; but Davy<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_112"></a>[112]</span> -found out that this Mr. Hickok was the kind of a man -who would do anything for anybody deserving it.</p> - -<p>The new family’s name was Shields. They were -from Massachusetts. Mr. Shields had taken up a -homestead of 160 acres, and now he was miserable -with fever and ague, so that he was unable to work -steadily. He and Mrs. Shields and the baby had come -by railroad to St. Louis and by steamboat from St. -Louis to Leavenworth. There they had loaded their -goods into a wagon drawn by a yoke of oxen and had -settled on this claim where they had found a cabin -already standing.</p> - -<p>It wasn’t much of a cabin, being only twelve by -eighteen feet square, and built of logs. The floor was -of rough boards with wide cracks between them; torn -muslin was stretched as a ceiling to keep the dirt of -the sod roof from sifting down. Over the walls Mrs. -Shields had pasted newspapers, right side up, so she -could read them sometimes as she worked. A muslin -curtain, hung on a wire, divided the room; behind the -curtain was a bed, of poles laid on notched posts and a -mattress stuffed with hay. Clothes were hung on -wooden pegs. On the other side of the curtain was a -cook stove, and a table of rough-sawed slabs, and a -couple of stools.</p> - -<p>No, it wasn’t much of a place for people like Mr. -and Mrs. Shields, who were used to a comfortable -house in Massachusetts; but it was home.</p> - -<p>All this Davy found out in due time, while he<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_113"></a>[113]</span> -worked for his board and lodging. At night he slept -on the floor by the stove; and he must rise at daylight -to milk the cow and feed the cow and the oxen and the -few chickens, and split the wood and bring the water -from the well, and make an early start for school, -which was four miles away. After school and on Saturdays -he had other chores waiting, and drove the -oxen while Mr. Shields held the plough to break the -sod for the spring sowing.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_114"></a>[114]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="VIII">VIII<br /> -<small>THE GOLD FEVER</small></h2> -</div> - - -<p>Even while Davy had been herding a change had -occurred in this Salt Creek Valley. The number of -settlers seemed almost to have doubled, and cabins and -houses and ploughed fields were everywhere. Amidst -them ran the Leavenworth end of the great Overland -Trail. Until after the first snows the emigrants and -settlers toiled along it, down the hill into the valley -and up the hill out of the valley; and all winter the bull -trains plodded back and forth. Weather rarely stopped -the Russell, Majors & Waddell outfits.</p> - -<p>Mr. DeVinne was the teacher in the school. It -was the best school yet, according to the Cody girls, -because there were more pupils, and Mr. DeVinne -seemed to know how to teach. Of course the school -was not graded; it consisted of only one room, where -the boys and girls sat on long benches, with other -benches for desks. The scholars ranged from little -Eliza Cody, who was six, up to big boys of twenty. -The pupils had come from all over—from Missouri, -Illinois, Vermont, Carolina, Mississippi, and the other -States east and south. Davy, who had been herding<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_115"></a>[115]</span> -for Russell, Majors & Waddell, and had proved his -pluck, felt as big as any of them.</p> - -<p>Steve Gobel, who tried to be a kind of boss (when -Billy Cody wasn’t there), started in to tease Davy, who -was little and red-headed. Davy stood the teasing as -long as he could; but when Steve grabbed his hair and -pulled, saying: “Here, Red! Lemme warm my -fingers,” Davy flared up. He would have fought Steve -then and there, but another boy sprang between them.</p> - -<p>“You’d better let him alone, Steve Gobel, or Billy -Cody’ll give you another licking.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, he will!” cried Helen Cody and all the girls. -“He’s coming back pretty soon now.”</p> - -<p>“Aw, he never licked me. He ain’t big enough,” -snarled Steve.</p> - -<p>“Well, he’s man enough, whether he’s big enough -or not,” retorted the boys. And——</p> - -<p>“He did, too, lick you. And he’ll do it again as -soon as he gets home,” called the Cody girls, loyally.</p> - -<p>Steve growled, but he strolled off and after that he -let Davy pretty much alone. Davy learned that Steve -had bullied Billy Cody, too—until in a fight Billy had -been made mad enough to hurt him. Billy was the -school’s hero, for he was out on the plains doing a -man’s work and helping to support his mother and -sisters. Everybody liked Billy if they knew him, or -they wanted to see him if they didn’t know him.</p> - -<p>The cold, snowy winter of Kansas and a new West -set in. The days and nights were below zero, blizzards<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_116"></a>[116]</span> -of wind and snow swept through plains and -valleys; and in the frontier cabins the settlers schemed -hard to keep warm. His chores at the Shields cabin -and his trips to school and back kept Davy busy; but he -must make the best of his school term, for when winter -quit school would quit too. Once in a while he stopped -in at the Cody home; Mrs. Cody was putting up a large -house as a hotel and eating place for the overland -travellers, particularly the teamsters of the wagon -trains. The girls named it “The Valley Grove House.”</p> - -<p>Then, in February, who should appear at school but -Billy himself.</p> - -<p>“Hurrah! There’s Billy Cody!”</p> - -<p>“Hello, Red!”</p> - -<p>“Hello, Billy.”</p> - -<p>“When did you get back, Billy?” asked everybody.</p> - -<p>“Yesterday.”</p> - -<p>“Where’ve you been this time?”</p> - -<p>“Out to Laramie and Fort Walbach at Cheyenne -Pass. Been trapping on the Chugwater, south of Laramie, -too.”</p> - -<p>“How’d you come back? With a bull train?”</p> - -<p>“Nope. A couple of fellows and I started with -our own pack outfit, but the Injuns jumped us on the -Little Blue, and we ran into snow, and we mighty nigh -never got through.”</p> - -<p>“What you going to do now, Billy?”</p> - -<p>“Going to school a while, I reckon.”</p> - -<p>And so he did. He also told Davy his adventures.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_117"></a>[117]</span> -He had been assistant wagon master with Buck Bomer -from Leavenworth northwest to Fort Laramie, and -from Laramie south sixty miles to new Fort Walbach. -After that he had gone trapping, but hadn’t caught -much. In December he had started home mule-back -with two other “men.” The Indians had chased them -in central Kansas, and they had tried to sleep in a -cave until they found that it was strewn with skeletons; -and a snowstorm had buffeted them, but at last -they had reached Leavenworth.</p> - -<p>This seemed considerable for a boy of fourteen to -have done. Billy brought home his wages, as usual, -for his mother, and now he settled down to school -again. Davy was very glad to have him back.</p> - -<p>Once in a while he and Billy rode into Leavenworth -on errands. As the winter wore away rumors of -the Pike’s Peak region and the Cherry Creek gold -diggings in it grew more and more numerous. A few -travellers from that western border of Kansas (for -Kansas Territory extended clear to the Rocky Mountains) -arrived in Leavenworth and declared that things -out in the Pike’s Peak region were booming. Two -towns, Auraria and Denver, had been founded on -Cherry Creek; and from the sands gold was being -washed out. It was claimed that the mines would equal -those of California—and they were much nearer to -the States.</p> - -<p>Soon after Billy had come home he and Davy met<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_118"></a>[118]</span> -Mr. Baxter on the street in Leavenworth. Mr. Baxter -looked fine, and shook hands heartily with them.</p> - -<p>“What are you doing for yourselves?” he asked.</p> - -<p>“Going to school. What are you doing?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, visiting ’round, waiting for the trail to open.”</p> - -<p>“The green grass will sure look good,” quoth Billy, -wisely. “What are you going to do, Reverend? Bull -whack?”</p> - -<p>“No. I think I’ll strike out for the new Cherry -Creek diggings.”</p> - -<p>“Thought you didn’t count much on those stories,” -reminded Davy.</p> - -<p>“I didn’t, but I do now. Just got back from -Omaha. Boys, I saw six quills full of gold there from -the Pike’s Peak country. Everybody up at Omaha is -wild about it. They’re all going. The newspapers -from my home town in Massachusetts are full of gold -stories. The whole East is excited. By spring you’ll -see the biggest crowd starting on the Overland Trail -since the days of Forty-nine and the California boom. -Leavenworth won’t be big enough to hold the people -outfitting here.”</p> - -<p>“Hurrah for Cherry Creek, then!” cried Billy. -“Reckon we’ll have to go, Davy!”</p> - -<p>“I’ll go,” agreed Davy eagerly.</p> - -<p>“We’ll all go,” said Mr. Baxter. “Everybody’ll -go.”</p> - -<p>A lean, sallow, unshaven man in jeans and flannel -shirt and boots and a huge muffler around his neck and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_119"></a>[119]</span> -a round fur cap on his head had been standing near. -He nodded.</p> - -<p>“Right you are, pards,” he put in. “That’s the -place.”</p> - -<p>“How do you know?” queried Billy, quickly.</p> - -<p>“I’ve been thar, an’ now I’ve come back to tell my -friends. Why, boys, out thar all you’ve got to do is -to pull up the grass by the roots an’ shake out the gold. -Pike’s Peak is solid gold, ’most. A feller can make a -flat-bottom boat an’ set knives in the hull an’ slide -down, scraping up the gold in slivers.”</p> - -<p>“Did you ever see that done?” demanded Mr. -Baxter.</p> - -<p>“Not exac’ly, stranger. But I’m goin’ to do it.”</p> - -<p>That sounded like a tall story—although of course -it <em>might</em> be true. Billy and Mr. Baxter put small stock -in the tale; but it filled Davy’s mind with delightful -visions. He dreamed of taking a plough up Pike’s -Peak and ploughing golden furrows clear to the -bottom.</p> - -<p>Suddenly Salt Creek Valley and all the frontier -along the Missouri River from St. Louis up to Omaha -was excited. The Leavenworth papers printed wonderful -stories of the new gold fields, where miners were -washing out the precious metal. The Georgia party -of miners, some of whom were Cherokee Indians, -which had outfitted at Leavenworth last fall and had -gone out by the southwest Santa Fe Trail to the mountains -and thence north to Cherry Creek, had “struck it<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_120"></a>[120]</span> -rich,” and had sent back the quills of gold to prove it. -Already emigrants from the East were arriving in -Leavenworth, wild to push on as soon as the spring -opened. Between themselves Billy and Dave determined -to join the crowd. It was all they could do to -wait.</p> - -<p>One day early in March Davy was making a brief -call at the Cody house, when Billy excitedly pointed -from the front porch.</p> - -<p>“There’s the first one!” he cried. “There’s the -first prairie schooner bound for the diggings! Let’s -go down and meet it!”</p> - -<p>Away he rushed; Davy followed, and so did the -girls. Mrs. Cody stood shading her eyes, watching. -Across the valley crept a white-topped wagon drawn -by two yoke of oxen. Beside the wagon was trudging -a man, and behind followed another man pushing a -two-wheeled cart. When Billy and Dave met the outfit -they saw that two women were in the big wagon; -one held a baby; on the other side of the wagon were -sturdily trudging a boy and girl. A big shaggy dog -barked at Turk, and Turk growled back.</p> - -<p>The wagon was a farm wagon covered with the -cotton hood and stuffed with household goods. On -the sides the hood bore, in scrawly black paint: -“PIKE’S PEAK OR BUST.”</p> - -<p>“Hello!” hailed Billy. “Where you bound?”</p> - -<p>“To the new diggin’s, stranger,” responded the -driver of the oxen. “See our sign?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_121"></a>[121]</span></p> - -<p>“Do you live hyar’bouts?” asked the man who -was pushing the hand-cart—which also was loaded -with household stuff and camp stuff. The ox-team -paused; the man pushing the hand-cart wiped his forehead -with a red handkerchief.</p> - -<p>“Yes; we live up yonder near the top of the hill.”</p> - -<p>“How long do you reckon it’ll take us to get to -Cherry Creek?” pursued the ox-team driver.</p> - -<p>“Two months if you keep going,” said Billy.</p> - -<p>“’Twon’t take as long as that, stranger,” replied -the man. “We can travel right smart.”</p> - -<p>“They do say you can dig out the gold with a -shovel,” quavered the woman. “We hear tell you can -dig out a pound a day. Were you ever there?”</p> - -<p>“No,” answered Billy. “But we’re going. Aren’t -you a little early?”</p> - -<p>“Wall, we reckoned we’d start ’arly, an’ make our -pile ’fore the other folks got thar,” explained the -driver. “Thar’s a tarnel lot o’ people gathered behind -us, an’ those that come later won’t find ’nough grass for -their critters. Gee-up, Buck! Spot! Get along with -you.”</p> - -<p>Creaking, the wagon resumed its way. The man -with the hand-cart pushed in the wake. The mud was -ankle deep, and Dave felt sorry for the whole outfit.</p> - -<p>“Better stop on the hill and rest,” bade Billy. -“Guess we can give you some coffee.”</p> - -<p>“Nope, thank ye, stranger,” said the driver.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_122"></a>[122]</span> -“We’re goin’ on through.” And he swung his whip, -urging his oxen.</p> - -<p>Billy and Dave and the girls raced ahead; and -when the wagon and the hand-cart, with the oxen and -men alike panting, toiled up hill near the Cody house -Mrs. Cody rushed out with a pail of hot coffee. But -the emigrants scarcely halted to drink it. Even the -women were anxious to proceed, as if already they saw -the gold.</p> - -<p>“Poor things,” sighed Mrs. Cody, while the girls -waved goodby to the two children. “They’ll have a -hard time.”</p> - -<p>But Billy and Dave watched until the “Pike’s -Peak or Bust” sign was only a blur, and the wagon a -crawling dot.</p> - -<p>“Shucks!” said Billy. “If it wasn’t for mother -and school I’d join ’em. But I wouldn’t go by the -regular Overland Trail. When we go we’ll take the -Smoky Hill trail, Dave; up the Kansas River, to Fort -Riley, and on out by the Smoky Hill branch or the -Republican. That’s shorter.”</p> - -<p>This “Pike’s Peak or Bust” outfit was only the -first of a long series of gold-field “pilgrims” (as they -were called), all enthusiastic. And soon Leavenworth -City was a sight! As Mr. Baxter had predicted, the -city was scarcely large enough to hold the new-comers. -Two and three steamboats a day arrived, loaded to the -gunwales, at the levee, bringing up from St. Louis and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_123"></a>[123]</span> -Kansas City Eastern and Southern people, their teams -and goods.</p> - -<p>The streets were thronged with the strangers, young -and old, in all kinds of costumes and of all professions—farmers, -lawyers, ministers, doctors, merchants, -teachers—buying supplies and exchanging opinions. -The lodging houses and hotels and spare rooms were -overflowing, and around the city and in the vacant lots -were hundreds of tents, where were camped overland -parties of men and whole families.</p> - -<p>A constant procession of “pilgrims” wended slow -way through the Salt Creek Valley, past the Cody -home and the Shields home, and northwestward to the -main Salt Lake Overland Trail which led up the Platte -River; at the South Platte they might branch for the -“diggin’s” by a cut-off. Many of the wagon hoods -bore that queer legend “Pike’s Peak or Bust!” Some -men trundled wheel-barrows, loaded, and a few were -trying to carry packs through on their backs.</p> - -<p>But the greatest procession went out over the new -route from Leavenworth southwest to the Kansas -River; thence on to Fort Riley at the forks, and either -northwest up the Republican branch or west up the -Smoky Hill River branch. Still other people travelled -by the Santa Fe Trail—the southernmost trail of all—up -the Arkansas River to the mountains, and then -north along the base of the mountains past Pike’s Peak -itself to Cherry Creek and Denver.</p> - -<p>Mr. Russell, of Russell, Majors & Waddell, and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_124"></a>[124]</span> -Mr. John S. Jones put in a stage line to Denver by the -Smoky Hill route. It was called the “Leavenworth & -Pike’s Peak Express Company,” Jones & Russell, Proprietors. -Two stages, travelling together for protection -against the Indians, each drawn by four fine Kentucky -mules and carrying six passengers, left Leavenworth -every morning for Denver, and covered the 700 rolling -miles in ten days. Soon the return stages would -be arriving, and everybody was expecting great news. -It was calculated that already 25,000 people had started -for the diggings. The trails were said to be white with -the wagons and the camps.</p> - -<p>The streets and the levee of Leavenworth were so -full of fascinating sights that Davy took every moment -he could spare from chores and school to go in with -Billy and look and listen. The best place was in front -of the Planters’ House Hotel, across the street from -the office of Russell, Majors & Waddell. Here the -stages started, and here people gathered to bid one -another goodby. The conversation was most interesting, -as people on the ground called up to passengers -in the stages.</p> - -<p>“Send us back a sack of gold, John.”</p> - -<p>“Hold tight to your scalps, boys.”</p> - -<p>“Let us know how things are. Be sure and write.”</p> - -<p>“Kill a buffalo for me, Frank. I want a good big -hide, remember.”</p> - -<p>“Leave a message for me on the top of Pike’s -Peak.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_125"></a>[125]</span></p> - -<p>“Look out for the ‘Rapahoes.’”</p> - -<p>“Goodby, goodby, old fellow.”</p> - -<p>“Don’t forget to give Robinson that package from -his wife.”</p> - -<p>“Most of these people don’t know where they’re -going or why,” remarked a man near Davy, to another -man. “There’ll be much suffering from this mad -rush.”</p> - -<p>He was a tall, slender, erect man of about thirty-five, -with long bronzed, florid face, sandy complexion -and crisp, sandy beard.</p> - -<p>“That’s Lieutenant William T. Sherman, formerly -of the Army. He’s practising law here now with Judge -Ewing,” said another man, aside, to a companion. In -a few more years he would be the famous “General -Sherman.”</p> - -<p>Billy Cody, too, was of the opinion that the green-horns -on the trail would meet with trouble; and in -Davy’s opinion Billy ought to know. Already reports -were to the effect that the route up the Smoky Hill and -the Republican were short of grass and exposed to the -Indians, and that the emigrants were being compelled -to throw away much of their baggage.</p> - -<p>However, this did not stop anybody from starting. -Davy and Billy had the gold fever bad. Even Mr. -Shields had decided to take his wife and baby and leave -the ranch for the diggings, where he counted on making -more money in a week than he could make here in a -year. So Davy only waited on Billy, to start, himself.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_126"></a>[126]</span></p> - -<p>“Shucks!” exclaimed Billy, in May. “I’ve got to -quit, Dave, and go on the trail again. Mother said -last night ‘All right.’ She’ll let me go. She needs the -money and I’ll send her back a lot. Come on. We’ll -raise a gang and start.”</p> - -<p>“When, Billy?”</p> - -<p>“Right away, as soon as we get the men and the -outfit. This green grass makes me restless. Got any -money left, Dave? We have to buy a wagon and -team.”</p> - -<p>Yes, Davy had almost all his herding wages on deposit -with Mr. Majors. He was proud to say so, and -to be able to pay his own way.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_127"></a>[127]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="IX">IX<br /> -<small>THE HEE-HAW EXPRESS</small></h2> -</div> - - -<p>Now Billy wasted no time with the preparations. -That was his style. The Reverend Mr. Baxter, who -had been ill in Leavenworth, and so had not started -before, promptly agreed to join the party. He and -Billy and Dave clubbed together with an outfit that -Billy knew. These were Jim Barber and Hi Wilson -and another man called “Left-over Joe.” Jim and Hi -had been teamsters with Russell, Majors & Waddell -bull trains; but “Left-over Joe” seemed to be nobody -in particular—and that is why they nicknamed him -“Left-over Joe.”</p> - -<p>A big emigrant outfitting camp had been established -in the Salt Creek Valley near the Cody home, -and while Jim and Hi were here getting ready to move -on, this lean, lank, very long-necked hobbledehoy of -squeaky voice and nineteen or twenty years had wandered -into their camp and adopted them. So they let -him stay.</p> - -<p>Jim and Hi had a team of mules: Billy and Dave -and Mr. Baxter added an old light wagon. The party -thought themselves lucky, for oxen had risen in price<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_128"></a>[128]</span> -to $175 and $200 a yoke, and mules and horses were -scarcer yet. Wagons were scarce, too.</p> - -<p>By the time that the supplies of salty pork and beans -and flour and coffee had been laid in for “grub,” and -picks and spades and gold-pans for digging out the -gold and separating it, and ammunition for killing -game and fighting Indians, Davy’s money was about -gone. However, that did not matter. They all would -find gold enough to last them the rest of their lives!</p> - -<p>Billy owned the Mississippi “yager” smoothbore -musket and the two Colt’s navy revolvers that he had -used when in the mule fort. He gave Davy one of the -revolvers. With it belted at his waist, Davy felt like a -regular scout indeed. Hi and Jim also owned guns. -Hi’s was a yager similar to Billy’s. Jim’s was a heavy -Sharp’s “Old Reliable” rifle, of fifty calibre holding -six cartridges underneath, and one in the breech. It -was a tremendously hard-shooting gun. Whoever had -a Sharp’s “Old Reliable” had the best gun on the -plains.</p> - -<p>The Reverend Mr. Baxter had no gun at all and did -not want one, he claimed. “Left-over Joe” had no -gun at all, but wanted one badly. Hi promised to let -him shoot the yager sometime.</p> - -<p>The Salt Creek camp was a lively place. Here -were assembled a thousand emigrants, all “Pike’s -Peakers,” making ready to travel on westward and find -their fortunes. About every kind of an outfit was to be -seen, and all sorts of people. Many of the men never<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_129"></a>[129]</span> -had driven oxen or mules before; they had bought -what they could get; some of the animals proved not -to be broken to drive, and when the green-horns tried -to hitch up the green “critters” then there was fun for -the onlookers.</p> - -<p>However, nobody was delaying to watch the -“fun.” By the hundred, parties were setting out every -day from the camp as well as from Leavenworth. -Thousands of gold-seekers already had left Omaha -and Kansas City and St. Joseph. It was reported that -along any of the trails a person could walk from the -Missouri River to the Rocky Mountains on the tops -of the prairie schooners—so thick was the travel. It -beat the celebrated stampede to California in 1849.</p> - -<p>There were four trails to the “diggin’s.” The two -best known were the Santa Fe Trail, on the south, -which followed up the Arkansas River in southern -Kansas, to the mountains, and then turned north for -the gold fields; and the big Salt Lake Overland Trail, -on the north, which from the Missouri River followed -up the Platte River, until in western Nebraska the gold -hunters turned south for Pike’s Peak. Omaha and St. -Joseph were the outfitting points for this northern -trail, and Leavenworth traffic struck it by the government -road which ran through Salt Creek Valley on -into the northwest. The Russell, Majors & Waddell -“bull trains” hauled their freight over this route.</p> - -<p>The other two trails were new central trails, made -especially for the Pike’s Peak rush. One trail followed<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_130"></a>[130]</span> -up the Republican River through southern -Nebraska; the other followed up along the Smoky Hill -Fork River, through central Kansas. Emigrants -coming in by St. Joseph were taking either the Salt -Lake and California Overland route or the Republican -route; the emigrants outfitting at Leavenworth and the -Salt Creek Valley were taking the Smoky Hill route -or else the Overland Trail route.</p> - -<p>By the Overland Trail (the Salt Lake and California -Trail) it was accounted 580 miles from Omaha -to the diggin’s; and the Pike’s Peak Guide-book recommended -that trail. But from Leavenworth it was 100 -miles further, and the Smoky Hill Trail was said to be -the straightest and the shortest. The Leavenworth & -Pike’s Peak Express Company stages had chosen that -route.</p> - -<p>“I reckon that’s the route for us,” said Hi. “I -hear we can follow the Smoky clear to the mountains, -and have water all the way.”</p> - -<p>“When the first stage comes back we’ll know more -about it, but we can’t wait,” mused the Reverend Mr. -Baxter.</p> - -<p>“Oh, we’ll get through,” spoke Billy, quickly. -“And the sooner we start the better, before all the -grass and fuel are used up. Look at the people, will -you, pulling out every day!”</p> - -<p>“Do you think one wagon will be enough to bring -back our gold?” squeaked Left-over, anxiously. “I<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_131"></a>[131]</span> -don’t want to quit till I get a million dollars’ worth for -myself alone.”</p> - -<p>“Then what’ll you do, Left-over?” asked Jim, with -a wink at the rest.</p> - -<p>Left-over Joe scratched his long freckled neck and -looked like a chicken.</p> - -<p>“I’d buy a gun and have all the pie I wanted, too,” -he declared foolishly.</p> - -<p>Now everything had been made ready. The night -before the start Billy and Dave spent in camp with -the rest of the party. Mr. Shields and family had gone; -their log cabin was empty, their claim abandoned again. -If they had stayed they could have made lots of money -selling produce to the emigrants; but they, like the -thousands of others, wished to get rich quick.</p> - -<p>This last evening in the Salt Creek emigrant camp -the party elected their officers. Hi was chosen captain -or wagon-master, Billy was chosen lieutenant or assistant, -Mr. Baxter volunteered to cook, and “Left-over” -was appointed “cavarango” or herder of the two -mules. This left Jim and Davy for the general work -of march and camp.</p> - -<p>With the provisions and bedding and mining tools -and other stuff the wagon was well loaded for two -mules to haul across the plains; so it was decided that -all the party except the driver must walk. They would -take turns driving and riding; and after the mules -were well broken in and the trail was rougher then -probably nobody would ride.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_132"></a>[132]</span></p> - -<p>“I reckon we ought to make twenty miles a day, -with mules,” quoth Billy, wisely. “But those oxen the -other folks are using won’t make more than twelve or -fifteen miles a day. Some of ’em are liable to be sixty -days on the road.”</p> - -<p>“Well, we’ll be lucky if we get through in thirty,” -said Mr. Baxter. “It will be nearer forty.”</p> - -<p>“Do we have to walk forty days?” squealed “Left-over.”</p> - -<p>“That’s nothing to a bull whacker,” said Hi, -gruffly. “I’ve walked clean from Leavenworth to -Salt Lake and back again.”</p> - -<p>“So have I,” nodded Jim. “That’s twelve hundred -miles each way—and most of it up-hill, too!”</p> - -<p>The Smoky Hill Fork trail was to be struck at -Fort Riley, 132 miles southwest from Leavenworth. -Here the Smoky Hill Fork and the Republican Rivers -joined to form the Kaw or Kansas River. Settlements -extended to Fort Riley and a short distance -beyond; but after that the country was the “Indian -Country.”</p> - -<p>“Lookee here,” suddenly exclaimed Billy Cody, that -last night before the start, when everybody was under -blankets and almost asleep. “We’ve got to have a -name painted on our wagon.”</p> - -<p>“Can’t we travel anonymous?” queried the Reverend -Mr. Baxter, sleepily.</p> - -<p>“I dunno what that means but it sounds pretty -good,” spoke Hi. “Can you spell it?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_133"></a>[133]</span></p> - -<p>“Oh,” chuckled Mr. Baxter, “that doesn’t mean -anything.”</p> - -<p>“Huh!” grumbled Hi. “I thought it was an animile -like a hippopotamus, mebbe.”</p> - -<p>When the camp turned out at sunrise Billy had already -been up, and on the wagon hood he had painted, -with the stick and tar-pot used for greasing the wagon, -the title: “HEE-HAW EXPRESS.” So, amidst -laughter, the Hee-Haw Express it was which, soon -after sun-up, joined the procession that, anew each -day, filed out for the long trail to Pike’s Peak.</p> - -<p>The Hee-Haw Express, being mule-power, travelled -faster than many of the other outfits. The road -certainly presented a series of strange sights, as if -everybody had thrown together whatever he could -and was hastening from a fire or a plague. The Hee-Haw -Express, at amble and fast walk, with Hi driving -and his partners trudging as fast as they were able -beside, gradually passed men with packs, men pushing -handcarts and wheel-barrows, crippled ox teams, next -an ox and a cow harnessed together, next a mule and -an ox harnessed together; and so forth and so forth, -all in the dust and the shouting and the rumbling and -creaking and whip cracking.</p> - -<p>Almost all the other “Pike’s Peak pilgrims” passed -by the Hee-Haw Express waved and shouted their -greetings.</p> - -<p>“Trade you my wheel-barrow for a mule.”</p> - -<p>“You must be in a rush, strangers.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_134"></a>[134]</span></p> - -<p>“What’s the fare?”</p> - -<p>To this Billy answered gaily:</p> - -<p>“Regular stage rates. Twenty-five cents a mile or -hundred dollars to the mountains.”</p> - -<p>For that was what the Leavenworth & Pike’s Peak -Express Company charged.</p> - -<p>Many of the other wagons also bore signs. “Pike’s -Peak or Bust!” “Noah’s Ark!” “Root Hog or -Die!” “Pike’s Peak Special!” “Bound For the -Diggin’s!”—thus ran some of the lines to be noted as -the Hee-Haw Express sturdily pressed forward.</p> - -<p>That night the road was one continuous camp, with -fires glowing and canvas glimmering as far as the eye -could see in either direction. Parties visited back and -forth, men and women exchanged news and views, -children played in the firelight shadows, babies cried, -dogs barked, and not until after nine o’clock was the -trail quiet enough so that nervous persons might sleep. -However, Davy was not nervous; and from the snores -he might judge that Billy and the rest were not nervous -either.</p> - -<p>The next day the Hee-Haw Express started early, -and was on the road even before sun-up. Billy and -Hi and all were anxious to pass Fort Riley and strike -the Smoky Hill Fork as soon as possible, and in advance -of as many of these “pilgrims” as possible. -The only excitement of this day was a sudden cheer -adown the line and a craning of necks and waving of -hands. Before, from the west, were approaching two<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_135"></a>[135]</span> -vehicles—by the looks of them, and by the four mules, -stages, both!</p> - -<p>And two stages they proved to be, as, skirting the -procession of “pilgrims,” they dashed along, bound -for Leavenworth. The first bore a lot of bright bunting -and streamers, and on its sides a banner that said: -“Greetings from the Gold Mountains of Kansas.” -By its dusty appearance and the appearance of its -driver and passengers, this coach evidently had come -clear from Pike’s Peak. The second coach, close following, -was its escort from Fort Riley in to Leavenworth.</p> - -<p>Speedily the word travelled through the column of -Pike’s Peakers that the first coach actually was the first -return coach from the gold mines, and that it carried -to Leavenworth $3500 in gold dust. Leavenworth, as -was afterwards reported, had a big celebration.</p> - -<p>Of course, the sight of the travel-stained coach, -and the rumors as to what it contained and what news -it bore, excited the emigrants. Some of them began -to throw away stuff in order to lighten their loads; so -that from here on to Fort Riley the trail was strewn -with what Billy called “useless plunder.” But the -Hee-Haw party were experienced enough to start out -only with what they needed, and they had nothing to -throw away yet.</p> - -<p>The last of the settlements was Junction City, just -beyond Fort Riley. While the rest of the party were -making camp along with the other “pilgrims,” outside<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_136"></a>[136]</span> -the little town, Billy and Dave rode the mules in to see -if there were any provisions worth buying. Mr. -Baxter, the cook, said that if they could find any dried -apples he would make a pie!</p> - -<p>But there were no dried apples or any other such -delicacies in rude little Junction City, here at the edge -of the Indian country. Every store seemed to be a -saloon; and the streets were thronged with rough emigrants -and soldiers from the fort. Only whom did the -boys meet but Wild Bill Hickok!</p> - -<p>He was standing on the edge of the plank sidewalk -of the one business street, with several other men, apparently -expecting something.</p> - -<p>“Why, hello, Bill!”</p> - -<p>“Hello, Billy. How are you, Dave? Where’d -you come from, if I may ask?”</p> - -<p>“Salt Creek,” answered Billy Cody.</p> - -<p>“Going to Pike’s Peak,” announced Davy.</p> - -<p>“Good enough,” approved Wild Bill. “People are -taking a little gold out o’ thar, that’s sure. But I -don’t believe all I hear.”</p> - -<p>“What are you doing here, Bill?”</p> - -<p>“I? Well, I may go to the diggin’s myself, and -I may drive stage. To-day’s stage westbound is due -now. That’s what we’re looking for.”</p> - -<p>“She’s a comin’,” remarked one of the other men, -with a nod.</p> - -<p>Sure enough, up the trail from the east, along the -north bank of the Smoky Hill Fork, in the dusk and the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_137"></a>[137]</span> -dust came at a gallop the Leavenworth stage for the -Pike’s Peak country, drawn by its four fine mules. It -halted before the Junction House Hotel, and the passengers -clambered stiffly out from under the canvas -top that arched over the wagon box.</p> - -<p>They were only two, and one from the driver’s -box. The two plainly enough were Easterners. The -first was a rather young man, with a thin sandy beard -and a soft slouch hat; the second was a stoutish, elderly -man, with a round rosy face and a fringe of white -whiskers under his chin. He wore a rather dingy -whitish coat; the younger man wore a regulation -duster. They both gazed about them alertly before -entering the hotel.</p> - -<p>“Hello, Bill,” nodded the stage driver, descending, -after tossing his lines to the hostler from the stage -stable—for Junction City was Station Number Seven -on the stage route.</p> - -<p>“Who’s yore load, Tom?” queried somebody.</p> - -<p>“That old fellow in the white coat, he’s Horace -Greeley. Other fellow’s named Richardson—Albert -D. Richardson.”</p> - -<p>“Where they from?”</p> - -<p>“N’ York, I reckon.”</p> - -<p>“Where they going?”</p> - -<p>“Out to the diggin’s.”</p> - -<p>“What line they in?”</p> - -<p>“Newspaper fellows of some sort, I hear tell. Anyhow, -they ask a heap of questions. That old chap in<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_138"></a>[138]</span> -the white coat he’s been speech-makin’ all through -Kansas. As I understand it, he an’ that young fellow -are goin’ out to the mines to write up the country, so -the people of the East’ll know what’s true an’ what -ain’t.” And Tom the driver walked on into the hotel -to wash and eat.</p> - -<p>“Seems to me I’ve heard of Horace Greeley,” -mused Wild Bill. “He’s quite a man.”</p> - -<p>“Sure. He’s editor of the New York <cite>Tribune</cite>,” -asserted a man who had not spoken before. “He’s -the biggest man on the biggest paper in the States, -and what he says will influence the people more than -a stage-load of gold. Richardson’s a newspaper man, -too; and another reporter, named Henry Villard, of -Cincinnati, is out at the diggin’s now. But Greeley’s -the biggest of the lot. They say only one printer in -his office can read his writing; but the old man has -come out here to get the truth, and if he tells the people -to ‘go West’ they’ll go.”</p> - -<p>“That,” quoth Wild Bill emphatically, “is the best -thing that’s ever happened to this country. But it seems -to me it’s a lot of trouble for a man to take. Do you -reckon he’s going to start a paper out thar at Cherry -Creek?”</p> - -<p>“No, sir! They say Horace Greeley is wedded to -two things: his New York <cite>Tribune</cite> and his old white -coat.”</p> - -<p>“Well, if he makes any speech here to-night I’m -going to hear him,” said Wild Bill.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_139"></a>[139]</span></p> - -<p>Horace Greeley did make a speech to citizens and -emigrants, in a partly-finished stone church. He talked -on “Republicanism.” But Dave and Billy and Hi -and Jim and “Left-over” were too tired to go and -hear him; and so were the majority of the “pilgrims.” -The Reverend Mr. Baxter went in and reported that -it was very good for those who agreed with it.</p> - -<p>Bearing Horace Greeley and Journalist Richardson, -the stage continued westward in the morning. So did -the Hee-Haw Express.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_140"></a>[140]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="X">X<br /> -<small>“PIKE’S PEAK OR BUST!”</small></h2> -</div> - - -<p>Already the procession had considerably thinned -out. Some of the outfits had broken down and some -had quit discouraged. The Pike’s Peak region was -still 500 miles distant, and the worst of the journey lay -before. However, the Hee-Haw Express had no -thought of quitting.</p> - -<p>“We’ll have to travel under discipline from now -on, boys,” spoke Captain Hi at noon camp. “You -bear in mind I’m boss, and Billy is second boss. We’ll -try to be as easy on you as we can, but what we say -goes. The only person who doesn’t need to pay much -attention is the cook. He’s his own boss. The rest of -us will mount guard every night and follow a regular -schedule. I appoint Jim the official hunter, because -he’s got the best gun. Jim, you watch out for meat. -Ought to see buffalo, plenty.” And Jim nodded. -“Davy, you’re assistant to the cook. You get him -fuel and water.” And Davy nodded. “Left-over and -Billy and I’ll tend to the mules.”</p> - -<p>“What I want to know is, why don’t we ever have -pie. If I’d thought we’d eat just bacon and beans and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_141"></a>[141]</span> -coffee all the way across to the mountains I wouldn’t -have come,” squeaked Left-over, earnestly.</p> - -<p>“Sowbelly and beans will make a man of you,” -growled Hi. “After you’ve stood a steady diet of -that for a couple o’ months nothing can kill yuh.” -And he rose. “All right; catch up, boys. Let’s be -moving.”</p> - -<p>“Catch up” (or “Ketch up,” as Hi pronounced -it) was the regulation signal in the freighters’ trains -on the plains for harnessing the mules and oxen to the -wagons. So now the span of mules were put back -into their places on either side of the tongue, and -Left-over climbed into the seat; it was his turn to -drive.</p> - -<p>Just before sunset Left-over, peering ahead from -his driver’s seat, uttered a shrill whoop and tried to -whip up his mules.</p> - -<p>“Hyar! What’re you aiming to do?” demanded -Captain Hi, severely.</p> - -<p>“Aw, can’t you let a feller be?” whined Left-over. -“I was going on ahead, is all, and see what I could -buy.”</p> - -<p>On a little hillock, before, beside the trail was what -appeared to be another stage station of canvas, but the -top of the tent (for wall tent it turned out to be) displayed -in large black letters the sign: “Grocery.” -This explained Left-over’s hurry. However, as the -nearest “pilgrims” were behind he would have the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_142"></a>[142]</span> -grocery to himself, so Captain Hi calmed him down -with—</p> - -<p>“Don’t be so brash about it, then. If you go and -kill off one of those mules we’ll put you in harness -with the other one.”</p> - -<p>“And that will be a pair,” added Billy, quick as a -wink.</p> - -<p>“Never mind, Left-over,” comforted the Reverend. -“Maybe we can get our dried apples there -and have that pie I promised you.”</p> - -<p>But as they toiled on nearer, the tent grocery -seemed deserted. It had no customers and no proprietor.</p> - -<p>“Whoa!” yelled Left-over loudly, pulling down -his mules opposite the tent. “Whoa, there!” And—“Hello,” -he hailed shrilly.</p> - -<p>At this slowly emerged from between two large -barrels the figure of a gaunt, frowsy-headed man—like -a dog crawling out of a kennel. The man must -have been asleep. He yawned and stretched and -stared.</p> - -<p>“Howdy?”</p> - -<p>“Howdy, strangers.”</p> - -<p>“What do you keep?”</p> - -<p>“Everything.”</p> - -<p>“Got any dried apples?” demanded Left-over, -eagerly.</p> - -<p>“Nary apple.”</p> - -<p>“Got any crackers?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_143"></a>[143]</span></p> - -<p>“Nary cracker.”</p> - -<p>“Any ham?” queried Hi.</p> - -<p>“Nary ham.”</p> - -<p>“Any molasses?” asked Billy.</p> - -<p>“Nary molasses.”</p> - -<p>“Any salt?” asked Jim.</p> - -<p>“Nary salt.”</p> - -<p>“What have you got, then?”</p> - -<p>“Pickles and smokin’ tobacco, strangers. Which’ll -you have?”</p> - -<p>“That’s a great grocery stock!” scoffed Billy, as -the Hee-Haw party proceeded. “Pickles and smoking -tobacco!”</p> - -<p>“I should say!” agreed Davy. “Not much -chance for a pie there!”</p> - -<p>“I didn’t s’pose the country was going to be as bad -as this,” whined Left-over, from the wagon seat.</p> - -<p>“Wait till you strike the wust of it,” answered -Jim.</p> - -<p>“Somebody’s broken down ahead, hasn’t he?” -queried the Reverend Mr. Baxter.</p> - -<p>“Looks so. We’ll go on and make camp there, -anyway, and see,” directed Captain Hi.</p> - -<p>The trail had veered apart from the Smoky Hill -Fork and was cutting through a wide, flat bottom-land, -grown to short buffalo grass and a few cottonwood -trees. In the midst of the stretch was a “prairie -schooner,” halted, its white hood just visible in the -gathering dusk. Lonely enough it looked, too—solitary<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_144"></a>[144]</span> -there with not another token of human life near -it. It did not have even a camp-fire.</p> - -<p>In the twilight the Hee-Haw Express drew upon -it and halted also. The owner of the wagon was sitting -on the tongue, smoking an old clay pipe.</p> - -<p>“Howdy, strangers?” he greeted, coolly.</p> - -<p>“Howdy,” they responded; and suddenly Billy -nudged Davy and pointed to the wagon hood.</p> - -<p>“Pike’s Peak or Bust!” said the one sign; and -under that had been added: “Busted, by Thunder!”</p> - -<p>“What’s the matter, pardner? Stuck?” asked -Captain Hi.</p> - -<p>The man jerked his thumb toward the wagon hood.</p> - -<p>“Read for yoreself, stranger,” he bade. -“Busted!”</p> - -<p>“Where’s your party?”</p> - -<p>“I’m the party. I sent the old woman and the -kids back by stage, and I air hyar and hyar I stay, I -reckon.”</p> - -<p>“Where are your animals?”</p> - -<p>“My critters war a hoss and a caow, hitched together. -Injuns stole my hoss; the old caow’s had a -calf daown in the willows; and I’m busted. How far -to Pike’s Peak yet?”</p> - -<p>“’Bout five hundred miles.”</p> - -<p>“Wall,” drawled the man, yawning, “in case my -old woman doesn’t find another outfit back at the -Missouri I reckon I can wait till the calf grows up.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_145"></a>[145]</span></p> - -<p>“Nothing we can do for you?” invited Mr. -Baxter.</p> - -<p>The man slowly shook his head.</p> - -<p>“Nope, stranger. I air comfortable. ’Bout two -miles on you’ll find a better campin’ place. Water and -fuel right around hyar I’m goin’ to need, myself.”</p> - -<p>So, thus politely dismissed, the Hee-Haw Express -moved along until, where the trail crossed a creek, -they found the wood and water.</p> - -<p>The trail stretched ever on and on. For one only -six or eight weeks old it was remarkable. Hundreds -of wagons and animals had worn it wide and plain; -and, moreover, on either side of it were scattered -cook-stoves, trunks, bedsteads, bureaus, and other -bulky household stuff, cast overboard to relieve the -tiring teams. Davy found a rag doll and Billy picked -up a thick hank of false hair. As Jim remarked: “A -fellow could follow this trail in the dark by stubbing -his toes!”</p> - -<p>“Busted” outfits were constantly passed. The -strain of the wild march to “Pike’s Peak” was taking -its toll of the weak and the illy prepared.</p> - -<p>The stage stations were placed from ten to twenty -miles apart. They had been located in a hurry; -wagons sent out from Leavenworth by Jones & Russell -had dropped off the station agents and their outfits -as fast as possible all the way through to Denver. -Some of the stations were merely pieces of canvas -laid over pole frames; and some were caves in clay<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_146"></a>[146]</span> -banks of streams; but under the canvas and in the -caves were living not only men but their wives.</p> - -<p>However, the fact that the stations had been established -at all in such a rush across 600 miles of uninhabited -country struck Davy as no small feat. And -every day, on this Smoky Hill route trail, a stage coming -from the west was met, and another coming from -the east passed them. The stages went galloping along -hauled by four dusty mules. The report was that the -company had spent three hundred thousand dollars -before the first coach had been started, and that the -expenses were eight hundred dollars a day! The fare -from Leavenworth to Denver was $100.</p> - -<p>The sight of the two stages each day was quite an -event to the toiling Pike’s Peak Pilgrims, and they -levelled all kinds of questions at driver and passengers -whenever they had a chance.</p> - -<p>The trail did not cling to the Smoky Hill Fork, but -frequently was far north of it. Numerous side creeks -were crossed, supplying water and wood; and again -there would be no fuel but the gleaning of buffalo -chips. The country was flattening out into short-grass -plains—buffalo country.</p> - -<p>Captain Hi and Lieutenant Billy saw to it that the -span of mules were well attended to at noon and at -evening, and that the daily marches of the Hee-Haw -Express were steady and systematic. So the party -forged straight along. The mules were fast walkers.</p> - -<p>“Strangers, you must be in a powerful hurry to dig<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_147"></a>[147]</span> -out that pound of gold a day,” hailed a “Lightning -Express” that the “Hee-Haw” passed.</p> - -<p>This Lightning Express was taking a whole sawmill -out—as well as a large family. The household -wagon bore the sign “Lightning Express”; it was -drawn by a mule and an ox, pulling together. Then -followed a freighting wagon loaded with the sawmill, -and drawn by a yoke of oxen and a horse, the -horse being in front of the yoke of oxen. A woman -and several children were trudging beside the covered -wagon. A man afoot drove with his whip.</p> - -<p>“Right you are,” replied Captain Hi to the hail.</p> - -<p>“Have you heard any news?” quavered the -woman. “Is it true that people are putting knives in -the bottom of their wagon-boxes and sliding down -Pike’s Peak and scraping up the gold in big slivers?”</p> - -<p>“I’ve heard about it but I’ve never seen it, ma’am,” -said Hi, truthfully.</p> - -<p>“When do we see the mountains?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, not for a few hundred miles more,” informed -the Reverend, kindly.</p> - -<p>“Well, when you get there and see Jacob Smith -from Posey County, Injianny, tell him we’re coming as -fast as we can,” she called after them.</p> - -<p>“We will.”</p> - -<p>“Shouldn’t wonder if that was Jacob Smith or -some other pilgrim on his way back already,” proclaimed -Jim, pointing. “Reckon he’s made his pile -and is heading home to spend it.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_148"></a>[148]</span></p> - -<p>“Wish we were doing the same!” squeaked Left-over. -“I’d buy pie; all I could eat.”</p> - -<p>“I don’t,” announced Billy Cody. “Do you, -Dave! I want the fun of finding before I have the -fun of spending.”</p> - -<p>“Yes,” agreed Mr. Baxter; “it’s a heap more fun -to earn what you get.”</p> - -<p>A man on horseback was wending way down the -trail from the west. It was an exception to meet anybody -travelling east; he was the first since they had left -the stage line. If he came from the Pike’s Peak country -he ought to bring much news.</p> - -<p>So, as he met them, Captain Hi halted the Hee-Haw -Express and hailed him.</p> - -<p>“Howdy, stranger? Bound far?”</p> - -<p>“To the States if I can get there.”</p> - -<p>“Come from far?”</p> - -<p>“Far enough, mister. I come from the Cherry -Creek diggin’s.”</p> - -<p>Hurrah! Davy had been eyeing him keenly. He -was an unshaven, thin but powerful man, with -cadaverous face and fierce black eyes; and he bestrode -a mule as cadaverous as himself. He carried a musket; -and that seemed to be about all. Anyway, his saddle-bags -were disappointingly flat. But he may have had -his gold stowed out of sight or deposited to his account -somewhere.</p> - -<p>“Clear from the diggin’s, eh?” pursued Hi. -“How are things out thar? Booming?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_149"></a>[149]</span></p> - -<p>The man stroked his black beard and surveyed the -party.</p> - -<p>“Do I look booming, mister?” he demanded. “I -wouldn’t give an acre in old Missouri for the whole of -the Pike’s Peak country. You going out yonder after -gold?”</p> - -<p>“Yes.”</p> - -<p>“Wall, you’re on the hardest trail you ever tackled, -mister; no wood, no water, no forage, and game -mighty scarce. And when you get to the end you won’t -find much. That story about gold is the biggest hoax -ever invented. From now on you’ll meet about as -many people turned back as there are going on.”</p> - -<p>“What’s the matter? Isn’t there any gold at all?” -asked Billy, dismayed.</p> - -<p>“Mighty little and hard to get.”</p> - -<p>“I’m going on just the same and see,” said Billy, -doggedly.</p> - -<p>“We’re with you, Billy,” encouraged the Reverend. -And—“What’s happening out there, anyway?” he -queried of the returning pilgrim. “We hear that -twenty thousand people are on the road.”</p> - -<p>“They’ve made two towns on Cherry Creek; one’s -Auraria, t’other’s called Denver now. They’ve had a -meeting, too, and organized to send a delegate to Congress -from the Territory of Jefferson; and the first -Monday in June they held a convention to form the -State of Jefferson. That was after I left, so I dunno -what you will find when you get there. But you won’t<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_150"></a>[150]</span> -find gold; at least not to amount to anything. And my -advice is turn around now ’fore you starve to death.”</p> - -<p>With that, he clapped his heels against his mule, -and continued. So did the Hee-Haw Express—but in -the opposite direction.</p> - -<p>“I reckon,” said Captain Hi, “we’ll keep going. -Little Billy said it.”</p> - -<p>That was a great disappointment—to have such a -report. The man seemed to have spoken the truth, for -from now on the returning goldseekers rapidly increased -in numbers, and they all insisted that the Pike’s -Peak country was a hoax, and the trail to it very bad. -Indeed, many “pilgrims” were turning back without -having reached the “diggin’s” at all.</p> - -<p>The Hee-Haw party were now well out in the midst -of the Great Plains which stretched from the Missouri -to the Rocky Mountains. Afar extended on either -hand and before and behind, the rolling, sandy surface, -covered with the short, woolly buffalo grass, and -broken here and there by little hills and occasional -willows and cottonwoods growing by the creeks. Jack-rabbits, -as large as fox-terriers, and prairie-dogs and -coyotes and gray wolves and antelope scampered from -the trail, and the paths made by the buffalo frequently -crossed and recrossed.</p> - -<p>These paths were worn deep, like bridle paths. Jim -kept the camp in fresh meat from the antelope that he -shot. He stalked them very cleverly, as Dave thought, -by lying out in the brush, and waving his handkerchief<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_151"></a>[151]</span> -from the end of his wiping stick. The flag seemed -to fascinate the curious-minded antelope, who edged -nearer and nearer to him, circling around and around -and peering and stamping, until he shot what he wished, -at his leisure.</p> - -<p>The meat was tender and sweet, but according to -Billy and the others, it was nothing compared with -buffalo meat. Buffalo meat gave more strength, and -Billy claimed that anybody could eat it for weeks at a -time and not tire of it. So they all wanted buffalo—and -especially Left-over. He was clamorous to shoot a -buffalo, and began to whine about it continually.</p> - -<p>“Lookee here, Left-over,” finally spoke Jim. “If -we let you shoot a buffalo will you quit this etarnel gab -about that and pie?”</p> - -<p>“I will. Truly I will, Jim,” promised Left-over.</p> - -<p>“All right, then. As soon as we sight buffalo, -where we can get at ’em, you can shoot one, and after -that shut up till we get to Denver.”</p> - -<p>“With your gun, Jim?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, with my gun.”</p> - -<p>Only a few buffalo had been seen thus far. The -“pilgrim” travel on the trail had split their herds -and had made them wary. But on the very next day -it was that Billy, driving the laboring mules, from the -wagon seat whooped exultantly:</p> - -<p>“Buffalo! Plenty o’ ’em. There’s yore chance, -Left-over.”</p> - -<p>Left-over came running from the rear.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_152"></a>[152]</span></p> - -<p>“Where, Billy?”</p> - -<p>“Over there, of course. Don’t you see them?” -and Billy reined in his mules.</p> - -<p>“I see ’em! I see ’em!” yelled Left-over, much -excited. “Where’s my gun? Is it loaded? How’ll I -get ’em?”</p> - -<p>He would have grabbed the gun from Jim and have -set right out afoot, but Captain Hi and Jim both -stopped him.</p> - -<p>“Easy, easy, now!” exclaimed Hi, gazing calculatingly. -“Thar’s buffalo enough for all, I reckon. -Must be two thousand. But if you try to run ’em down -on foot we’ll lose every one. Let’s unharness the -mules, fust.”</p> - -<p>Left-over promptly jumped to help. The buffalo -were plain in sight. To the right of the trail, slightly -ahead and just out of gun-shot, they were grazing in a -great herd which speckled the landscape like a mass -of gooseberry bushes.</p> - -<p>“Looks as if we had ’em all to ourselves,” quoth -Jim, as the mules were speedily unharnessed from the -wagon. “No ‘pilgrims’ around to interfere with -this herd. Reckon if we don’t get a mess it will be -our own fault.”</p> - -<p>“Where do I come in?” whined Left-over, anxiously. -“You promised me, didn’t you?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, I did, and I never break a promise. Hyar’s -your gun, now. You stay right whar you are. We’ll<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_153"></a>[153]</span> -drive the buffalo in to you. Otherwise you’ll jest -shoot up the landscape and mebbe yourself or us in -the bargain. Lend me one of your shooting-irons, -Billy. The pistol’s enough. Thanks.”</p> - -<p>So saying, he vaulted on one of the mules, Hi did -the same. They rode bareback with the traces tied -short, and used the coiled lines as bridle-reins. Hi -carried his long-barrelled Mississippi yager, Jim held -the Colt’s navy revolver in his right hand. On a wide -circuit they set out, as if to get behind the buffalo and -turn them toward the wagon.</p> - -<p>“What are we goin’ to do? Where do we come -in?” wildly appealed Left-over.</p> - -<p>“We stay here, I reckon,” said Billy coolly.</p> - -<p>“You and Davy and Left-over can whang away,” -bade Mr. Baxter, with a laugh. “I’ll sit in the reserved -seat and see the fun.”</p> - -<p>So saying, he calmly clambered aboard and into -the seat, where he stowed himself at languid ease.</p> - -<p>“If those mules aren’t broken to buffalo there -won’t be any fun—except for the buffalo,” observed -Billy.</p> - -<p>“Yes, Hi and Jim are liable to be stampeded clear -back into Leavenworth,” chuckled Mr. Baxter.</p> - -<p>With the four at the wagon keenly watching, Hi -and Jim pursued their circuit. They rode at rapid -gallop, and presently disappeared in a shallow draw. -The next sign of them was the action of the buffalo<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_154"></a>[154]</span> -herd. Animals on the farther outskirts began to lift -their heads and stare and show uneasiness. Gradually -the whole herd were staring in the one direction; and -on a sudden, like a vast blanket tossed by the wind, -forth they lunged into motion. And with reason, for -out into the open, on the far side of them, came racing -hard on their long-eared mules, Hi and Jim.</p> - -<p>“Hurrah!” cried Billy Cody, exultant. “Those -mules are O. K. Lie low and stay by the wagon, -fellows. Meat’s coming.”</p> - -<p>“What’ll I do?” yelled Left-over. “Where’ll I -go?</p> - -<p>“You do as I say,” ordered Billy, thoroughly alive. -“Stay right here. We may have to split that herd.”</p> - -<p>On blundered the buffalo. The roll of their hoofs -sounded like heavy thunder, and the dust floated over -their dark backs. Pressing valiantly, Hi and Jim -held their mules in the rear, and, still circuiting, forced -the herd over toward the wagon.</p> - -<p>“Great Cæsar’s ghost, boys!” gasped Mr. Baxter, -straightening in his seat. “Don’t forget that I’m up -aloft here, and I’ll land hard if that herd strikes us!”</p> - -<p>The herd arrived almost before he had finished -speaking. The foremost—a big cow in the lead—went -streaming past just in front of the wagon; and the -whole van of the shaggy, crazy army loomed in one -grand charge on either hand.</p> - -<p>“I’ll tend to this side; you and Left-over tend to<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_155"></a>[155]</span> -the other,” shouted Billy to Dave. “<a href="#i_fp154">Give it to them! -Split ’em! Split ’em!</a> Wave yore hat, Reverend.”</p> - -<div class="figcenter" id="i_fp154"> - <img src="images/i_fp154.jpg" alt="" title="" /> - <div class="caption"> - <p class="noic"><a href="#Page_155">“GIVE IT TO THEM! SPLIT ’EM! SPLIT ’EM!”</a></p> - </div> -</div> - -<p>“Now’s your chance, Left-over,” exclaimed Dave, -levelling his revolver.</p> - -<p>The Reverend waved his broad hat and shouted -lustily.</p> - -<p>“Bang!” spoke Billy’s yager. Davy pointed his -revolver at the nearest buffalo and pulled trigger. He -dimly saw the huge creature plunge forward to its -knees, but he did not wait to see more; he only pulled -trigger as fast as he could right into the faces of the -pelting herd. He had a vague vision of bulging eyes -and lolling red tongues, and short horns and tangled -foreheads and lunging shoulders, and ever the dark, -panting mass flowed past.</p> - -<p>Suddenly a tremendous report in his ear well-nigh -deafened him, and Left-over yelped loudly, crying, -“I got him! I got him!”</p> - -<p>“Hooray!” screamed the Reverend, choking with -glee, and laughing so that he doubled and swayed.</p> - -<p>Left-over was on his back, heels high, gun waving. -He sat up, pulled trigger, and over he went again, -kicked flat by the heavy Sharp’s. At every shot he -yelped, sprawled backward, sat up, shot, and yelped -again.</p> - -<p>Davy’s revolver was emptied, and he had space to -watch. Now Left-over’s gun was empty, too; and -dusty and perspiring and wild-eyed, he picked himself -up.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_156"></a>[156]</span></p> - -<p>“How many did I kill?” he squealed hoarsely. -“Are all those mine?”</p> - -<p>For the herd had passed, the wagon was untouched, -and the chief token of the battle was the half dozen -bulky forms lying prone almost in the very trail itself. -Davy drew a long breath. That had been an exciting -moment. Hi and Jim came galloping in, their mules -lathered and puffing.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_157"></a>[157]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="XI">XI<br /> -<small>SOME HALTS BY THE WAY</small></h2> -</div> - - -<p>“Good work,” praised Hi, with casual glance. -“Thar are three or four more out yonder. Reckon -we’ve got meat enough now for a while.”</p> - -<p>“Which are mine?” squealed Left-over. “Did -you other fellows kill any? I’d have killed fifty if I’d -had any more cartridges.”</p> - -<p>“You killed one, all right, Left-over,” asserted -the Reverend. “I saw you. You killed him six times -and once more for luck.”</p> - -<p>“No, I didn’t, either!” disputed Left-over. “I -killed seven, mebbe more. I shot seven times.”</p> - -<p>“Which is it, Reverend?” asked Hi.</p> - -<p>The Reverend Mr. Baxter pointed, with a grin; -and grinning, Hi and Jim rode forward to inspect. -Davy went, too; he was certain that a couple of buffalo -had fallen to his revolver, and as there were only -three on this end of the wagon, he did not see where -Left-over’s seven could be.</p> - -<p>Hi and Jim were gazing down upon a huge buffalo -bull, who lay with his nose touching the fore wheel of -the wagon. He made a great pool of blood, which<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_158"></a>[158]</span> -flowed from wounds in his head and his shoulders and -back and legs and everywhere, apparently.</p> - -<p>“You certainly peppered him, Left-over,” assured -Hi. “I reckon he’s dead.”</p> - -<p>“Did I do all that?” queried Left-over. And he -began to strut. “Well, I think that’s pretty good. If -I hadn’t been here he’d have run right over the wagon. -I picked him out on purpose. But I must have killed -a lot more.” And chattering and strutting he roamed -about, every few seconds returning to examine the -holes that he had made or to thrust the carcass with -his toes or to proclaim how large it was.</p> - -<p>“You surely made your mark. Now you can rest -a while,” chuckled Jim. “What’s your count, Billy?”</p> - -<p>“Two at my end,” reported Billy, who had shot -and killed, and had reloaded like lightning and shot and -killed again.</p> - -<p>“And two for Davy, and another who’s dropped -yonder; and those that Jim and I got. That makes a -mess,” said Hi. “Wall, reckon we’d better butcher -’fore the wolves spoil the meat. You fellows go ahead -here, and Jim and I’ll fetch in the rest.”</p> - -<p>“Davy didn’t do so bad, himself; did he?” remarked -Mr. Baxter, climbing out of the wagon. “Did -you aim, Davy?”</p> - -<p>“No,” confessed Davy; “not after the first shot. -My eyes were full of buffalo.”</p> - -<p>“Mine’s the biggest, anyhow,” boasted Left-over. -“If I hadn’t shot him so much he’d have got away.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_159"></a>[159]</span></p> - -<p>With Davy and Left-over helping the best that -they could, Billy and the Reverend dressed the buffaloes -that were near the wagon; and before they were -done Hi and Jim came in, packing the best portions -of those lying out in the wake of the herd. Even -though only the best parts—the humps and rib roasts—were -taken, the outfit had what looked to be more meat -than they could use. But Hi and Jim were up to snuff.</p> - -<p>“We’ll jerk this as we go,” said Hi. “Cut it into -strips, fellows.”</p> - -<p>So they cut much of the meat into strips about two -inches wide and as thick as one’s finger and a foot long, -and hung it on cord all around the wagon, row after -row. So dry was the air and so pure out here in the -great open plains that before the wagon had travelled -an hour the strips already were curing hard and dark. -They resembled strips of leather. That considerable -dust settled on them apparently did no harm.</p> - -<p>“Now they’ll keep forever,” declared Hi, striding -along after a brief inspection. “You can chaw ’em -as they are, or fry ’em; and you’ll find ’em the sweetest -meat you ever stuck between your jaws. Thar’s -nothing better than buffalo jerky.”</p> - -<p>That afternoon they passed another stalled Pike’s -Peak outfit—a whole family, this time, with their -wagon mired down to the hubs in a boggy place that -sometimes was a creek. The canvas top proclaimed: -“Root Hog or Die! We’re from Ohio. Bound for -the Gold Fields.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_160"></a>[160]</span></p> - -<p>“Started rooting a leetle early, haven’t you?” -queried Hi, as the Hee-Haw Express halted to survey.</p> - -<p>A thin, sallow woman was sitting on the ground -holding a baby. Three children were playing about. -A cookstove stood out, with dishes scattered around. -A yoke of scrawny lame oxen grazed near.</p> - -<p>At Hi’s good-natured hail the woman gave a weak, -tired answer.</p> - -<p>“Howdy, strangers. Yes, ’pears like we’re stuck. -We’ve been here since yesterday. Can’t seem to get -out.”</p> - -<p>“Are you alone?” asked Mr. Baxter.</p> - -<p>“No, sir. But my man he’s thar in the wagon, -sick. Reckon he’s got the janders, and he isn’t any -good.”</p> - -<p>But a boy younger than Davy walked forward -from the other children. He was a ragged, sharp-faced -youngster, and now full of business.</p> - -<p>“I’m boss of this outfit,” he asserted. “Say, can’t -you hitch on your mules an’ give us a lift. Those oxen -of ours can’t pull grass up by the roots, they’re so -plumb wore out. It’s a hard trail, strangers.”</p> - -<p>“Sure we can,” replied Hi, promptly. “Unhitch, -boys. Let’s snake ’em out o’ thar.”</p> - -<p>“Want our oxen, too?” keenly queried the boy.</p> - -<p>“Nope, sonny. We can haul the wagon, but we -can’t haul the bulls at the same time.”</p> - -<p>At shout and crack of lash the Hee-Haw mules -sturdily put their shoulders to their collars and with<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_161"></a>[161]</span> -heave and groan the wagon rolled out to the firm -ground.</p> - -<p>“Much obliged,” said the boy. “What do we owe -you?”</p> - -<p>“Nothing,” answered Hi.</p> - -<p>“Strangers,” spoke a quavering voice, and the man -himself poked his face out from under the hood, -“how’ll you trade some of that meat for a sack of -flour. I’ve a powerful hankering for fresh meat.”</p> - -<p>He was as yellow as a sunflower, and looked pretty -miserable.</p> - -<p>“Take ten feet of it and welcome,” proffered Mr. -Baxter at once. “We don’t want your flour.”</p> - -<p>“No; we’ve got plenty flour,” added Hi.</p> - -<p>“Thank you,” said the woman, “but we don’t -travel on charity. My man’s got a turrible hankering -for meat, and if you’ll trade we’ll be right glad to -dicker with you. I reckon you can use the flour, can’t -you?”</p> - -<p>“Just as you say, then, ma’am,” responded Hi. -“But you’re welcome to the meat.”</p> - -<p>Billy was already slashing at a string of the jerky; -down it came. Seeing this, the Ohio boy dived into -the wagon and lustily dragged forth a sack of flour.</p> - -<p>He shouldered it and staggered with it toward the -Hee-Haw wagon. Billy sprang to take it, but the boy -shook his head stubbornly.</p> - -<p>“I’m man enough to tote this,” he panted.</p> - -<p>“I reckon you are, sonny,” grinned Hi. “But<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_162"></a>[162]</span> -you’ll lemme help you toss it into the wagon, won’t -you? You’re so strong and sassy you’re liable to bust -a hole through the box!”</p> - -<p>“How far to Pike’s Peak, strangers?” asked the -woman, anxiously.</p> - -<p>“A few hundred miles, ma’am.”</p> - -<p>“It seems a powerful long road,” she sighed. -“We’ve come clear from Ohio; drove the whole way. -We started last fall, an’ wintered in Missouri. That’s -where this baby was born.”</p> - -<p>“We’ll get there, ma,” encouraged the boy. -“Pap’ll feel better now, an’ we’ll go a-whoopin’.”</p> - -<p>“I hope so,” she faltered. “But they do say there -isn’t any gold, anyhow.”</p> - -<p>Davy felt sorry for her. Evidently so did the Reverend -Mr. Baxter.</p> - -<p>“What is your name, if you please?” he asked.</p> - -<p>“Jones. Mrs. Jasper Jones. My man’s a blacksmith.”</p> - -<p>“Well, Mrs. Jones, we understand there’s quite a -town going up out at the mountains; and if we get -there before you do we’ll trade this flour in for a corner -lot and your husband can start in blacksmithing.”</p> - -<p>“Will you?” she exclaimed, brightening. “Now -that’s mighty kind of you.”</p> - -<p>“I’ll take care of you, ma,” comforted the boy, -quickly. “I’ll take care of you an’ pap, too, as soon -as we get where there’s some work.”</p> - -<p>“I believe you will, sonny,” spoke Jim admiringly.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_163"></a>[163]</span> -“You’ll make the fur fly. We’ll tell ’em you’re -coming, so they’ll leave space for you.”</p> - -<p>And Billy added as good measure:</p> - -<p>“When you get to the diggin’s, if you don’t see me -you ask for Billy Cody. I’ll fix you out.”</p> - -<p>“Aw, crickity!” gasped the boy, staring. “Say—are -you Billy Cody, the Boy Scout?”</p> - -<p>“I’m Billy Cody, all right,” responded Billy, now -somewhat confused, while Hi and Jim and Mr. Baxter -laughed loudly.</p> - -<p>“We know you. We read all about you in the -paper,” proclaimed the boy, excited. “That time you -fought the Injuns. Say—will you shake hands with -me?”</p> - -<p>“Aw,” stammered Billy, trying to hide behind the -wagon, “forget about that, will you? I’m nobody.”</p> - -<p>“Terrible modest all of a sudden, isn’t he!” -chuckled Jim, as he and Hi and the Reverend finished -harnessing the mules again.</p> - -<p>“I killed a big buffalo! Biggest one you ever -saw!” squealed Left-over. “Shot him all to pieces -jest as he was running into us. Didn’t I, Billy?”</p> - -<p>“Hooray for Left-over!” cheered Hi. “Well, -catch up, boys. We’d better be moving or we’ll never -get thar.” And he addressed the other outfit. “Can -we do anything more for you?”</p> - -<p>“No, thank you, strangers,” said both the woman -and the man. “We can make it, now our wagon’s -out. And that meat’ll taste powerful good.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_164"></a>[164]</span></p> - -<p>“Goodby, then,” called the Hee-Haws.</p> - -<p>“Goodby.” And the woman added. “Don’t forget -that corner lot.”</p> - -<p>“We won’t.”</p> - -<p>The timber lining the course of the various streams -had shrunken, and the streams themselves were dwindling -ever smaller. It was a barren country, this, wide -and sandy and dotted with occasional thumb-like hills -called buttes. Across it wound the trail, marked by -dust and canvas-topped wagons.</p> - -<p>“We must be getting near the mountains, boys,” -called Hi. “That last station agent said we were only -two hundred miles from Denver.”</p> - -<p>“We ought to see them, then, pretty soon, I should -think,” remarked Mr. Baxter.</p> - -<p>“The chances are we’ll be looking for water instead,” -declared Jim. “The country’s going dry on -us.”</p> - -<p>The trail had swerved in to the Smoky Hill Fork -again; and the Smoky Hill Fork itself seemed about -to quit. It contained only a mere trickle of water.</p> - -<p>“You can follow the stage route on west to the -Big Sandy,” informed a squad of returning Pike’s -Peakers, “or you can cut over to the northward and -find water there. It’s more than twenty-five miles to -where the stage route strikes the Big Sandy, and there -isn’t any water even then. But we hear tell there’s -water on the short cut to the north, where you strike -the Big Sandy higher up.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_165"></a>[165]</span></p> - -<p>Hi nodded thoughtfully.</p> - -<p>“All right,” he said. “How’s the country north?”</p> - -<p>“There’s nothing to brag on anywhere you go in -this whole region, stranger. We’re bound back to the -States. We’ve had enough. But if you try the short -cut north watch out for the Injuns, ’Rapahoes and -Cheyennes both.”</p> - -<p>Hi nodded again.</p> - -<p>“We will.”</p> - -<p>Davy noted Left-over’s mouth open and his eyes -begin to pop. Presently Left-over could hold in no -longer.</p> - -<p>“Lookee here,” he squealed. “Let’s quit. Let’s -turn around with those other fellows and go home. -I’m tired, and I don’t feel very well, and there isn’t -anything at the other end anyhow.”</p> - -<p>“If you want to quit you can join the next party -bound east. We can do without you,” spoke Jim. -“But I’m going on if I have to carry the mules.”</p> - -<p>“So am I,” declared Billy; and the others, including -Davy, felt the same way.</p> - -<p>“I reckon Left-over’s afraid of the Injuns,” commented -Hi.</p> - -<p>This seemed to arouse Left-over’s wrath.</p> - -<p>“I’m not, either,” he squealed frantically. “The -Injuns had better not bother <em>me</em>. Did you see the -way I downed the big buffalo? That’s what any -Injuns’ll get who tackle <em>me</em>. You fellows don’t know -me when I’m mad. I’m bad. I’m a regular tarrer.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_166"></a>[166]</span> -I’m half horse and half alligator. Those Injuns had -better keep out of my way!”</p> - -<p>“We’re mighty glad of your company, Left-over,” -claimed Mr. Baxter soberly. “If I were you I’d ride -the trail and hire out to emigrant parties to see them -through safely.”</p> - -<p>Left-over continued to bluster as they marched; -and Billy only remarked to Davy:</p> - -<p>“If his ‘do’ is half as big as his ‘tell’ he could -lick Wild Bill, couldn’t he?”</p> - -<p>Late that afternoon Hi pointed to the north.</p> - -<p>“Here’s a chance for Left-over,” he called. -“We’re going to have visitors!”</p> - -<p>“Injuns!” said Billy quickly, shading his eyes and -peering. They all peered—Davy, who was driving, -from the wagon seat.</p> - -<p>A band of horsemen were rapidly approaching -across the level sandy plain. By their figures and the -way they rode Indians they certainly were; some -twenty of them. Left-over bellowed wildly.</p> - -<p>“I see ’em!” he cried. “I see ’em! Gimme a -gun! Get behind the wagon! Aren’t you going to -stop? Going to let us all be scalped?”</p> - -<p>“Quit your yawp!” bade Hi, roughly. “Drive -along, Davy. Handle your guns, boys, so they’ll know -we’re ready. Don’t let them think we’re afraid. I’ll -tend to them at the proper time.”</p> - -<p>Minding these instructions of Captain Hi, the Hee-Haw -outfit proceeded as if intent on their own business.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_167"></a>[167]</span> -Left-over whimpered and showed a strong disposition -to climb into the rear of the wagon, but Billy -said sternly:</p> - -<p>“None of that! You stay outside. Thought you -were an Injun-fighter.”</p> - -<p>“I am,” piped Left-over. “I was going to protect -the wagon.”</p> - -<p>“Huh!” grunted Billy.</p> - -<p>Up on the seat, in plain sight, driving the mules, -Davy felt rather alone and exposed; but he drove -steadily. The mules were pricking their long ears -and showing uneasiness.</p> - -<p>“Watch your animals, Dave,” cautioned Jim. “A -mules hates Injuns wuss ’n a rattlesnake.”</p> - -<p>And Davy hung tight.</p> - -<p>The Indians bore down at full gallop, as if to cut -the wagon off. But at sight of the guns in the hands -of Hi and Jim and Billy, when within a hundred yards -they reined in sharply and the leader threw up his -hand, palm outward. Hi answered with similar sign. -He rode forward halfway, so did the Indian; they met.</p> - -<p>“’Rapahoes,” exclaimed both Billy and Jim.</p> - -<p>“Regular beggars,” commented the Reverend, -easily. “Hi’ll fix them.”</p> - -<p>Hi and the Arapaho leader came riding toward the -wagon, and the others in the band slowly edged closer. -They were armed mainly with bows and spears, and -did not look very formidable.</p> - -<p>“Just a lot of rascals out on a thieving expedition,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_168"></a>[168]</span> -picking up what they can from the emigrants,” announced -Hi. “But of course they claim to be ‘good.’ -The chief here’ll show you his recommendations.”</p> - -<p>The chief (who was a villainous appearing old fellow, -cross-eyed and marked by small-pox and wearing -a dirty ragged blanket) passed from one to another -of the Hee-Haw company, saying “How, how?” -and shaking hands and extending a bit of dingy paper.</p> - -<p>When the paper reached Davy he read:</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p class="smfont">“This Indian is Old Smoke. He’ll steal the tail off a mule. -Watch him and pass him along.</p> - -<p class="smfont right">“<span class="smcap">Pike’s Peaker.</span>”</p> -</div> - -<p>The chief grinned and grunted, evidently well -pleased with himself and the impression that he -thought he was making.</p> - -<p>“Soog!” he said eagerly. “Soog!”</p> - -<p>“No sugar,” answered Hi. “Drive on, Dave. -Needn’t stop.”</p> - -<p>But the old Indian kept pace.</p> - -<p>“Tobac’. Give tobac’?”</p> - -<p>“Nope,” answered Hi, shaking his head. “Puckachee! -Be off! Vamose!”</p> - -<p>“Look out for those other Injuns!” suddenly -warned Billy, the alert. “They’re coming right in!”</p> - -<p>“Don’t let ’em!” begged Left-over, excited. “Give -him some sugar, so he’ll go away. I’ll give him some.”</p> - -<p>“No, you won’t,” retorted Hi, quickly. “Then -he’ll want something else. Here, you—” and he spoke<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_169"></a>[169]</span> -in earnest to the chief. “Puckachee!” And Hi waved -his hand and patted his yager meaningly. “Get! All -of you! No soog, no tobac’, nothing. Keep close to -the wagon, boys,” he warned to his party, “and show -’em we mean business. Drive the mules right along, -Dave.” He shouted to the advanced Indians: “No! -No!” And facing about shifted his gun as for action.</p> - -<p>The chief had paused, uncertain; and now his followers -paused. The Hee-Haw wagon, flanked by its -body-guard, with the mules snorting and straining but -controlled by Davy, pressed on. In a moment the chief -rode back to his band, and all went cantering away.</p> - -<p>“Lucky for them they didn’t try to make us -trouble,” boasted Left-over, changing his tune but still -suspiciously pale. “We’d have shown ’em!”</p> - -<p>“Lucky for us, you mean,” growled Hi. “If once -those fellows had got in amongst us and started to -crowding us thar’s no knowing what mightn’t have -happened. That’s the mistake lots of these emigrants -make. They try to parley and give presents, thinking -they’re buying the Injuns off; and fust thing they -know they’re overrun and helpless and lose their whole -outfit.”</p> - -<p>“Were you scared up there, Dave?” called Billy.</p> - -<p>“No. Were you down there?” retorted Dave.</p> - -<p>“Not so anybody noticed it, I hope,” answered -Billy.</p> - -<p>“Well, one thing’s certain,” said Jim. “We’ve<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_170"></a>[170]</span> -got wuss ahead of us than Injuns, I reckon. Water’s -petered out.”</p> - -<p>Before their eyes the shallow head-waters of the -Smoky Hill Fork disappeared abruptly, as if soaking -down through the sand of its bed. Davy checked his -mules while Hi and the others surveyed before. Not -a token of water showed beyond or as far as they -could see.</p> - -<p>Billy Cody had promptly trudged on in the advance; -and now he shouted and waved.</p> - -<p>“Trail forks,” he reported. “One fork keeps on, -other turns off to the right.”</p> - -<p>“We’ll follow that right fork as far as we can -before dark,” quoth Hi. “How’s the water bar’l? -Fill her up.”</p> - -<p>The Reverend Mr. Baxter sprang to the river bed -and with the camp spade dug vigorously. The others -took pails and pans and kettles and carried water, as -fast as the hole supplied it, to the big cask that, slung -fast at the rear of the wagon, formed part of the trail -kit.</p> - -<p>It was slow work filling this cask through the -bung-hole, but Hi kept them at it until the cask was -well-nigh running over. By this time dusk was settling, -and with a shrewd glance about at the landscape -Captain Hi said:</p> - -<p>“Unspan, boys. We might as well camp right -hyar. But it’s mighty poor grazing for the mules, I -tell you!”</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_171"></a>[171]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="XII">XII<br /> -<small>PERILS FOR THE HEE-HAWS</small></h2> -</div> - - -<p>Many emigrants had camped here, evidently. The -grass had been eaten off for several acres around, and -Davy roamed in a circle of a quarter of a mile before -he had gleaned enough buffalo chips for the supper fire.</p> - -<p>“Better get enough for breakfast, too, Dave,” -warned Mr. Baxter, the cook, with a weather-wise -eye cocked at the horizon. “Hear the thunder? -We’re liable to be soaked and so will the chips.”</p> - -<p>Buffalo chips when dry were fine, quick, hot fuel; -but when wet they were hopeless, like soggy paste-board. -Mr. Baxter’s warning had been well founded, -for the air was heavy and warmish, and from some -distant point echoed the rumble of a storm.</p> - -<p>Up to this time the journey from Leavenworth had -been very comfortable as to weather, with sunny days -and occasional little rains. But, according to Billy and -all, some of these plains storms were regular “tail -twisters” and “stem winders,” drowning even the -prairie-dogs out of their holes!</p> - -<p>“Left-over’s first on guard to-night,” directed -Captain Hi. “We must keep eye and ear open for -those Injuns. They may sneak up and run off our -mules.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_172"></a>[172]</span></p> - -<p>“They’d better not try it when I’m on guard,” -blustered Left-over, in his funny squeak. “You’ll -lemme have your gun, won’t you, Jim?”</p> - -<p>“Not much!” rapped Jim. “I may want that gun -myself. Take one of Billy’s. Let him have your -yager, Billy. What have you got in it?”</p> - -<p>“A bullet and three buckshot. I loaded her for -Injuns.”</p> - -<p>“That’s right. Left-over can do a toler’ble lot of -shooting with that load.”</p> - -<p>Pleased, Left-over took the gun and posted himself -just outside the firelight, where he could oversee -camp and mules (now tethered near) and any prowling -figures approaching. The night settled black and thick, -with the stars faintly twinkling through a haze; but -wrapped in his blanket beside Billy, Dave soon fell -asleep.</p> - -<p>He was awakened by a loud bang, and a louder -howl from Left-over, who seemed to be stepping on -everybody at once.</p> - -<p>“Injuns! I’m killed! Help! Murder! Wake -up! Why don’t you wake? Help! Murder! Injuns! -Injuns!”</p> - -<p>Before Davy had collected his own wits and was -out from the blanket Billy had sprung up like a deer; -with the one motion he was on his feet, free of the -blanket, revolver in hand, ready to obey Captain Hi’s -sharp voice.</p> - -<p>“Shut up! (to Left-over, who was cavorting<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_173"></a>[173]</span> -around like whale in a flurry). Lie low, boys! Over -here, together, away from the fire. Where are they, -Left-over? What’s the matter? What’d you see?”</p> - -<p>“I’m killed,” wailed Left-over. “The whole -country’s full of Injuns—’Rapahoes. I shot into -’em when they were sneaking up, and then they shot -me through the head. It all happened at once. But -I saved the mules. I gave my life for ’em, and you-all.” -And Left-over groaned vigorously.</p> - -<p>Half deafened by the wails of Left-over, Davy had -been listening hard for Indian whoop or rustle, and -peering for shadowy forms. But he heard only the -breathing of his companions and the grunty sighs of -the aroused mules. Not a figure, except those of the -shadowy mules, just visible against the sky-line, could -be descried.</p> - -<p>“Aw, shucks!” grumbled Billy, suddenly, breaking -the suspense. And standing boldly, he strode to the -smouldering camp-fire and thrust a bit of paper into -the live ashes. He made a plain target, but he did -not seem to care, and waited for the paper to flare.</p> - -<p>In the flare they all stared around; the mules were -the first things noted—but Mr. Baxter exclaimed:</p> - -<p>“Look at Left-over! By jiminy, he is wounded! -Start that fire more or make a torch so we can see. -Wait a minute, Left-over.”</p> - -<p>Left-over certainly presented an alarming sight. -His face was welling blood, which streamed down upon -his chest. His eyes rolled and he groaned dismally.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_174"></a>[174]</span></p> - -<p>As Billy made another flare, Jim, nearest to Left-over, -hastily examined, with eyes and deft fingers, -Left-over groaning now terribly.</p> - -<p>“Don’t find anything—there ain’t any new hole; -mostly mouth,” Jim reported. “Can’t you hold your -yawp, Left-over, long enough to tell us what happened -to you?”</p> - -<p>“I saw the Injuns sneaking up and we all shot at -the same time, and I killed them and they killed me,” -sobbed Left-over. “If you don’t believe me go out -and look.”</p> - -<p>“I know,” quoth Billy Cody. “That gun kicked -him in the face and plumb broke his nose! She was -loaded to do business.”</p> - -<p>“Huh!” grunted Left-over, venturing to sit up -and feel of his face.</p> - -<p>“If you fellows’ll watch I’ll scout around a bit -and see what’s what outside,” proffered Billy. “I -keep seeing something lying out yonder. Shouldn’t -wonder if Left-over did kill an Injun.”</p> - -<p>The lightning was fitful but incessant; its pallid -flashes played over the landscape—momentarily revealing -the drooping mules, the spots of sage, the -wagon, the faces on Davy’s right and left, and (as -seemed to Davy) exposing, for a brief instance, a dark -mass lying farther out on the prairie.</p> - -<p>“Well——” began Captain Hi; but he was interrupted. -As if borne on the wings of a sudden cool gust -from the west there came fresh blare of thunder and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_175"></a>[175]</span> -glare of lightning. Peal succeeded peal, flash succeeded -flash, with scarce an interval. Hi’s voice rang sternly.</p> - -<p>“Billy, you and Dave see to those mules, quick, -or they’ll stampede. The rest of you pitch what stuff -you can into the wagon and stretch guy-ropes to hold -her down. This is an old rip-snorter of a storm, and -it’s coming with its head down and tail up!”</p> - -<p>Nobody paused to question or debate. The storm -seemed right upon them. Following Billy, Dave -leaped for the mules.</p> - -<p>“Tie ’em to the wagon wheels,” yelled Billy, in -the pale glare tugging at a picket pin.</p> - -<p>He and Davy hauled the mules along to the wagon, -where Hi and Jim, Mr. Baxter and even the gory Left-over -were hustling frantically to put things under cover -and make the wagon fast with guy-ropes stretched taut -over the top.</p> - -<p>But the storm scarcely waited. The bellow of the -thunder and the fierce play of the lightning increased. -There was a pause, a patter, a swift gust; and rushing -out of the inky night charged the rain.</p> - -<p>Rain? Sheets of it! Blinding, drenching sheets of -it, driven by gust after gust, and riven by peal after -peal, glare after glare.</p> - -<p>“Hang to the wagon, everybody!” shouted Captain -Hi; and Davy, hanging hard, could see, amidst the -cataract of water, his partners also hanging hard to -guy-ropes and wagon-sheet corners. The mules stood<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_176"></a>[176]</span> -drooped and huddled, their ears flat and their tails -turned to the storm.</p> - -<p>Never had there been such lightning, never such -thunder, never such rain! All in a moment, as it -seemed to Davy, he was soaked through and through, -and the ground under him was running with water an -inch deep. The wagon top bellied and slapped and -jerked, and every instant was threatening to tear loose -and sail away, or else lift the wagon and all with it.</p> - -<p>“Hurrah!” yelled Billy gaily, braced and panting, -as he tried to anchor his corner. Nothing daunted -Billy Cody. “Now we’ve got water a-plenty!”</p> - -<p>As suddenly as it had arrived the bulk of the storm -departed, leaving only a drizzle, and a very wet world. -The Hee-Haw party might release their grip on the -wagon, and take stock. The rain had driven through -the canvas top into the bedding and other stuff, and -the rest of the night bid fair to be rather uncomfortable.</p> - -<p>“What are we going to do now?” whined Left-over.</p> - -<p>“Do the best we can,” answered Captain Hi. -“Stand up or lie down, whichever you please, till -morning.”</p> - -<p>“Aren’t you going out to look at my Injun?”</p> - -<p>“He’ll keep. We’ve got enough to tend to right -hyar.”</p> - -<p>Mr. Baxter lighted the lantern, and they overhauled -the bedding.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_177"></a>[177]</span></p> - -<p>“Come on, Davy,” quoth Billy. “I’m going to -sleep. Crawl in and we’ll shiver ourselves warm.”</p> - -<p>Billy’s buffalo robe was spread down on a spot -where the rain already had soaked into the sandy soil, -and snuggled beside him, under a blanket, dressed just -as he was, Dave soon found himself growing warm.</p> - -<p>“’Twon’t hurt us any,” murmured Billy. “I’ve -been wet this way many a time before. If we don’t -change our clothes we won’t catch cold.”</p> - -<p>That was fortunate, for they had no clothes to -change to!</p> - -<p>When Dave awakened, the sun was almost up; he -was nearly dry, and had not been uncomfortable, after -all. The Reverend Mr. Baxter was trying to start a -fire with bits of wood from some of the boxes in the -wagon, and to dry out a few buffalo chips. Left-over -was snoring lustily, but the rest of the camp was turning -out. Billy, who was sitting up, gazing about, -whooped joyously.</p> - -<p>“Look at Left-over’s Injun!” he cried, pointing. -Out he sprang and hustled across the plain. The camp -began to laugh—all but Davy, who stared, blinking, -and Left-over, who stirred, half aroused.</p> - -<p>At the dark spot, which was Left-over’s Indian, -Billy stopped; he waved his hand and cheered, and -came back, dragging the thing. As he drew near, -Davy saw what the others had seen. The Indian was -a big calf!</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_178"></a>[178]</span></p> - -<p>“Shot it plumb through the head!” yelped Billy. -“’Rah for Left-over!”</p> - -<p>“What is it? What’s the matter?” stammered -Left-over, struggling to sit up, while he blinked, red-eyed.</p> - -<p>“Better take his tail for your scalp, Left-over,” -bade Jim. “It’s a pity we don’t need meat, but you -can butcher him if you want to.”</p> - -<p>Not for some weeks did the Hee-Haw outfit get -done teasing Left-over about his “Injuns.”</p> - -<p>“Anyway,” soothed Mr. Baxter, “you made a -good shot. Nobody can deny you that.”</p> - -<p>“Huh!” agreed Left-over, swelling importantly. -“I knew it was something, and I drew bead and whaled -away.”</p> - -<p>“Purty good to draw bead in the dark,” remarked -Captain Hi. “Left-over must have eyes like a cat!”</p> - -<p>They ate a rather scant breakfast, mostly cold; and -leaving the luckless calf (which must have wandered -from some emigrant party) minus a few steaks, they -turned northwest on the cut-off to the next water. -The stage route went straight on, over a bare plateau; -but a number of emigrants evidently had been turning -off here on a trail of their own.</p> - -<p>So sandy was the soil and so hot the sun that very -soon the ground was as dry as before, and Billy’s -boast of “plenty water” failed to make good.</p> - -<p>About the middle of the morning they passed an -emigrant train of a large party still recovering from<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_179"></a>[179]</span> -the storm. Wagons had been capsized, tents torn up -bodily, and equipage scattered far and wide. One -wagon had been carried away completely.</p> - -<p>“How far to the mountains, strangers?” queried -one of the emigrants. It was the same old question. -All the Pike’s Peak travellers appeared to have the one -thing in mind—the mountains.</p> - -<p>“Follow us and you’ll get thar,” replied Captain -Hi. “What do you know about this cut-off?”</p> - -<p>“Nothing at all, stranger. There looked as if -somebody had gone up this way, so we came too.”</p> - -<p>“It’s a terrible dry road, though,” sighed a woman. -“Maybe if we’d have kept on west we’d have done -better.”</p> - -<p>“Well, by jiminy!” said Hi, as the Hee-Haws -toiled on. “I sort of think so, myself. This trail -doesn’t look good to me; not a little bit.”</p> - -<p>“Shall we turn back?” proposed Mr. Baxter.</p> - -<p>“I hate to turn back,” spoke Billy promptly. “I -like to keep a-going.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, we might as well go on,” added Jim. “I -hate to back track, too. But there aren’t many emigrants -on this trail, that’s certain.”</p> - -<p>“The trouble is they’ll follow like sheep,” asserted -the Reverend. “If this cut-off is no good somebody -ought to put a sign on it.”</p> - -<p>Hotter and hotter grew the day. The trail, which -was not so large after the emigrant party had been -passed, wound among blistering sand-hills, and soon<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_180"></a>[180]</span> -the mules were plodding doggedly, with tongues out, -hides lathering. They guided themselves, for the Reverend, -whose turn it was to drive, had mercy on them -and walked. That night at camp he uttered a sudden -exclamation.</p> - -<p>“Water’s more than half gone, boys,” he announced. -“Either this keg leaks or the air drinks -faster than we do.”</p> - -<p>“We’ll have to be easy on water, then,” ordered -Captain Hi. And they all went to bed thirsty.</p> - -<p>Davy had a miserable night, and probably the rest -did, too, although nobody except Left-over said anything. -The mules started out stiffly. But Mr. Baxter -suddenly shouted, in a queer wheeze, pointing:</p> - -<p>“Cheer up, fellows! There’s either a cloud or a -mountain—see?”</p> - -<p>They peered. Away in the west, just touched by -the first rays of the sun, peeped over the rolling desert, -at the horizon edge, a vague outline that did look like -the tip of a cloud.</p> - -<p>“There’s another!” cried Billy, pointing further -to the north. “If those are mountains I reckon this -one is Long’s Peak; maybe that other is Pike’s Peak.”</p> - -<p>Davy gazed constantly at the two vague, cloudlike -breaks in the line of horizon and sky. As the sun rose -higher they seemed to grow whiter; but they did not -move. They must be mountains, then; and oh, so -far away! Occasionally, as the wagon labored over a -swell in the desert, Davy thought that he could descry<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_181"></a>[181]</span> -other mountains in an irregular ridge connecting the -tip in the north with the tip at the south. However, -as the sun shone fiercer the whole sandy plain quivered -with the heat rays and the horizon blurred. Nobody -seemed to care about the mountains now; the main -thought was getting through to water.</p> - -<p>The trail was almost drifted over by sand; the -Hee-Haw party appeared to be the only party travelling -it. That was discouraging. The mules scarcely -moved. At noon they were given a little drink out of -Hi’s hat, for the wooden bucket had warped and leaked -like a sieve. Davy never had been so thirsty in all his -life, and Left-over had to be forced back by main -strength from the nearly empty cask. That night, -camped in a dry watercourse, where they dug and dug -without finding any moisture, they used the last of -their water for coffee.</p> - -<p>“It’s make or break, to-morrow, boys,” said Captain -Hi. “We’ll start as early as we can see, and -push right through. Ought to strike water soon. The -nearer we get to the mountains the better the chance -for water from them.”</p> - -<p>Sunrise of the third day caught them plodding -ahead, the poor mules groaning and wheezing, the -wagon rolling sluggishly, and Davy, like the rest, with -mouth open and tongue bone dry, in the wake. The -cloud things in the horizon had remained stationary; -some of them were whitish, some purplish; and mountains -they certainly were!</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_182"></a>[182]</span></p> - -<p>About ten o’clock Billy cried out thickly.</p> - -<p>“Water, fellows! Look at those mules’ ears! -They smell it!”</p> - -<p>“’Pears like a creek yonder, sure,” mumbled Captain -Hi. “Don’t be disappointed, though, if it’s another -mirage.” For they had been fooled several times -by the heat waves picturing water.</p> - -<p>“Those mules smell water, just the same, I bet -you,” insisted Billy.</p> - -<p>Far in the distance shimmered now a thin fringe of -green. The mules actually increased their pace; they -broke into a labored trot; and shambling heavily behind -the outfit pressed on. Left-over groaned and dropped, -to lie and moan dismally.</p> - -<p>“I’m dying,” he wheezed. “I can’t move a step. -Are you fellows going on and leave me?”</p> - -<p>There was no holding the mules. As they forged -along Billy exclaimed quickly:</p> - -<p>“Wait here, Left-over. Go ahead, fellows. I’ll -fetch him back a drink.”</p> - -<p>And seizing the coffee-pot he sturdily ran and -stumbled to the fore. All hastened after him, rivalling -the frantic mules, but he beat.</p> - -<p>Water it was! When they approached it did not -vanish as a mirage would; and they met Billy returning -with coffee-pot actually dripping as its precious -contents slopped over.</p> - -<p>Davy felt a strong impulse to halt Billy, wrest the -pot from him, and drink long and deep. But of<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_183"></a>[183]</span> -course this was only a thought. Puffing, Billy passed.</p> - -<p>“There’s plenty water waiting you,” he announced. -“I’ll bring Left-over on after he’s had his -drink.”</p> - -<p>Yes, water it was—a real stream flowing crooked -and shallow in a deep bed bordered by brush and willows. -The trail led to a ford. Wagon and all, the -mules fairly plunged in, and burying their noses to -their eyes gulped and gulped. First Jim, then in quick -succession Davy and Captain Hi and Mr. Baxter (who -was the last of all) imitated the mules. Whew, but -that drink was a good long one! It seemed to Davy, -as he sucked again and again, that he simply could not -swallow fast enough.</p> - -<p>“Some head stream or other, I reckon,” finally -spoke Captain Hi. “Shouldn’t wonder if we had -water now all the way in. We’re getting where the -drainage from the mountains begins to cut some -figger.”</p> - -<p>Billy arrived with Left-over. They spent the rest -of the day beside the welcome stream; and by morning -they left about as strong as ever.</p> - -<p>The trail that they were following now crossed at -least one stream a day, so that the water cask was kept -filled. The buffalo jerky had been eaten or was not -eatable; but antelope and black-tail deer were abundant. -So the trail proved pleasant. Captain Hi called -attention to the fact that the water was growing colder -to the taste; and he said that the snow mountains must<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_184"></a>[184]</span> -therefore be nearer. Indeed, the mountains were -nearer; they lined the whole western horizon, and -made a humpy, dark ridge extending from straight -ahead far up into the north. A haze like to a fog veiled -them much of the time, and the Hee-Haw party were -always expecting a better view.</p> - -<p>Anyway, there were the Rocky Mountains in sight; -and little by little the trail was approaching them. -Yet it was a long, long trail, and who would have imagined -that the plains were so broad from Leavenworth -to the digging!</p> - -<p>However, one morning a surprise occurred. The -trail had been threading a little divide which evidently -separated one stream from another. A few pines were -growing on it. They smelled good. When the mules -had tugged the wagon over the last rise and were descending -a splendid spectacle unfolded to the eyes of -the Hee-Haws. Involuntarily they cheered—hooray! -and again hooray! For right before them was the -main trail once more, with the wagons of emigrants -whitening it and with a stage dashing along.</p> - -<p>Down hastened the Hee-Haws, even the mules -being glad of company.</p> - -<p>“Hooray for Cherry Creek and the diggin’s, -strangers!” was the greeting, as the Hee-Haw party -entered at a break in the toiling procession.</p> - -<p>“How much further, lads?” asked Captain Hi.</p> - -<p>“Whar?”</p> - -<p>“To the mountains?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_185"></a>[185]</span></p> - -<p>“Seventy miles to the diggin’s, we hear tell. This -is the head o’ Cherry Creek, hyar; and as soon as the -fog lifts you’ll see what you’re looking for, I reckon.”</p> - -<p>The fog, which had cloaked the horizon since sunrise, -already was thinning; and staring, the Hee-Haws -waited the result.</p> - -<p>“I see them!” cried Jim, waving his battered hat.</p> - -<p>“Where, Jim?”</p> - -<p>“Yonder, straight in front.”</p> - -<p>“So do I!” yelped Billy. “There’s Long’s Peak—that -big peak up at the north end. I’ve seen him from -the Overland Trail. Look at the snow, will you!”</p> - -<p>“Isn’t it wonderful!” breathed the Reverend Mr. -Baxter, in awed tone.</p> - -<p>And it was. Almost halting, spell-bound, they -gazed. As the fog broke and melted away it exposed -a mighty barrier, extending in a vast sweep from the -right to the left—two hundred miles of mountains, -the front range soft and purplish, the back range dazzling -white with snow. The rugged plains, brushy and -somewhat timbered, and lighter green where meandered -Cherry Creek, reached to their very base.</p> - -<p>“Where’s Pike’s Peak?” demanded Left-over.</p> - -<p>“That lone peak at our end, stranger,” informed -an emigrant.</p> - -<p>Round and bulky and snow covered, standing out -by himself, like an exclamation-point completing the -range, Pike’s Peak seemed the biggest peak of all.</p> - -<p>“That’s not far. ’Tisn’t more than ten miles!”<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_186"></a>[186]</span> -declared Left-over. “Come on! Let’s go and climb -it. Get out your picks, fellows! Don’t you see a kind -of yellow patch? That’s gold, I bet you.”</p> - -<p>“Keep cool, young man,” warned the emigrant. -“You try to walk it before night and you’ll find out -how far that peak is. More than fifty miles, I reckon.”</p> - -<p>“It looks powerful cold up yon,” quavered a -woman. “They do say the snow never melts off.”</p> - -<p>The trail was now much more interesting. Some -of the emigrants had come out, like the Hee-Haws, -over the Smoky Hill Fork Trail, and the others were -from the Santa Fe Trail up the Arkansas River, to -the south. A trail along the base of the mountains connected -this with Smoky Hill Trail. Soon the trail by -way of Republican River joined in. The triple travel -on Cherry Creek Trail was now so thick that Davy -again wondered where all the people were coming from.</p> - -<p>The marvellous panorama of the Rockies remained -ever in sight before. Nobody tired of gazing at it, -wondering which of the peaks, besides Pike’s Peak, -were inlaid with gold and if a fellow could live on top -of Pike’s Peak or back yonder among those other peaks -while getting out his fortune. Some of the emigrants -(Left-over included) asserted loudly that they could -see the gold shining!</p> - -<p>However, the first sight of the Pike’s Peak settlements—Denver -and Auraria—began to be watched for -the most eagerly. The mountains gradually drew -nearer, Pike’s Peak gradually fell behind until on the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_187"></a>[187]</span> -afternoon of the third day, down the winding, white-topped -procession swept a glad cry. Whips were flourished, -sun-bonnets were waved, hats were swung; men -and women cheered, children shouted, dogs barked.</p> - -<p>“The Cherry Creek diggin’s! There they are! -There are the gold fields and the pound a day!”</p> - -<p>People seemed to forget the bad reports spread by -the disgruntled emigrants bound back to the States. -Hopes were again high for success and fortune at the -end of the long, long trail.</p> - -<p>Sure enough, several miles before, in a basin set -out from the mountains a short distance, were a collection -of wagons and tents and other canvases, and -a number of cabins, also, jumbled together on both -sides of the creek, apparently, and bounded before by -a wooded river. At the edges was a fringe of little -camps like those of emigrants stopping by the way.</p> - -<p>Evening was nigh; the sun was low over the snowy -range; smoke was curling from camp-fire and chimney.</p> - -<p>“We won’t make it to-day, fellows,” spoke Captain -Hi. “But we’ll pull in the first thing in the morning.”</p> - -<p>“Goodness! Look at the people pouring in by the -northern trail, too!” exclaimed Mr. Baxter.</p> - -<p>For glinting in the last rays of the sun a long wagon -train of emigrants, resembling crawling white beads, -was heading in from the opposite direction.</p> - -<p>“That’s the cut-off down from the Salt Lake -Overland Trail up the Platte,” quoth Billy, promptly. -“The bull trains travel that trail.”</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_188"></a>[188]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="XIII">XIII<br /> -<small>THE CHERRY CREEK DIGGIN’S</small></h2> -</div> - - -<p>With so many people making for Cherry Creek -over several trails it seemed a pity to waste a night by -camping. But when darkness settled the trail was -ablaze with the camp-fires of the emigrants who, like -the Hee-Haw outfit, had halted until dawn. Afar -blinked the lights of the “Pike’s Peak settlements”; -and miles distant, north across the plain, were the -bright dots betokening the camps of those emigrants -entering by the Salt Lake Overland Trail.</p> - -<p>The whole procession was early astir with the -dawn; even Left-over was up as soon as anybody, -eager to be digging out his pound of gold a day.</p> - -<p>The trail down Cherry Creek was six inches deep -with dust, ground to powder by the constant wheels -and hoofs. In a great cloud it rose as the wagons and -animals and persons ploughed through it; to the north -lifted other dust lines, where the rival travel likewise -pressed forward to the goal. It was an inspiring scene, -almost as good as a race; but Left-over grumbled:</p> - -<p>“I don’t call this Pike’s Peak,” he said. “And -where’s Denver City? I don’t see any city.”</p> - -<p>“City or not,” remarked the Reverend Mr. Baxter,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_189"></a>[189]</span> -“it’s a wonderful thing, Davy—all these people, from -all over the United States, setting out overland, breaking -new trails, and founding a town away out here, six -hundred miles across the desert, at the foot of those -snowy mountains! It’s taken a lot of pluck and a lot -of trust in Providence.”</p> - -<p>“Where do you calculate on stopping, boys?” -queried a black-eyed, sharp-nosed man who was riding -down along the column.</p> - -<p>“I don’t know,” drawled Captain Hi. “What’s -the difference?”</p> - -<p>“All the difference in the world. Throw in with -Auraria. She’s on the mountain side of the Creek, -and she’s bound to be the biggest city west of Omaha. -We’ve got the buildings, the people, and the ferry -across the Platte River. Remember that. Don’t let -these Denver boomers fool you. Stop at Auraria and -we’ll treat you right.”</p> - -<p>And he rode on down the line talking about -“Auraria.”</p> - -<p>But he was close followed by another man—a -fatty, red-faced man.</p> - -<p>“Keep right on down the east side of the creek to -Denver City,” he proclaimed. “The travelled side, -the side next to the States. Buy a town lot in Denver; -it’ll be a nest-egg for you while you’re at the diggin’s. -Denver, Denver, Denver! Remember the east side of -the creek.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_190"></a>[190]</span></p> - -<p>And he, also, proceeded on, chanting the praises of -“Denver City.” The Reverend Mr. Baxter laughed.</p> - -<p>Before they reached the settlement district the trail -forked. A large sign, pointing to the left-hand fork, -said: “AURARIA. Direct Route to the Gold Fields.” -Another sign, pointing before, said: “Straight Ahead -for DENVER CITY. Nearest and Best.”</p> - -<p>“Which will it be, boys?” queried Captain Hi.</p> - -<p>“Let’s try Denver. It’s on this side of the creek -and it’s named for the governor of Kansas,” spoke -Mr. Baxter.</p> - -<p>So they continued on down to Denver City. -Denver and Auraria were separated by only the almost -dry channels of Cherry Creek, and both extended along -it nearly to the Platte River below, into which Cherry -Creek emptied. As soon as the Hee-Haw party had -pitched their camp on the outskirts of Denver, they -hastened about their business. Davy and Mr. Baxter -paired off to wander about. Billy and Hi and Jim -undertook some errands. Left-over was wild to grab -shovel and pick and pan and start right in digging and -washing.</p> - -<p>Many persons, in plain sight all up and down the -creek bed, were working hard panning for gold. Some -of the emigrants had begun almost before they had -unharnessed their teams. And yonder, northwest, -glimpses of the Platte River, flowing past both Denver -and Auraria, gave glimpses also of other miners -delving away.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_191"></a>[191]</span></p> - -<p>Billy walked straight to the nearest group in the -creek bed.</p> - -<p>“How are you making it, pardner?” he asked.</p> - -<p>“Have you fellows come for your pound a day, -too?” asked the man. Even his wife was wielding a -dish-pan while he shovelled.</p> - -<p>“You bet,” assured Billy.</p> - -<p>The woman paused, and the man laughed wearily -and wiped his forehead.</p> - -<p>“You’ll be lucky if you make fifty cents,” he said.</p> - -<p>“Yes,” quavered the woman. “It’s awful poor -picking along this creek. I expect we’re all going to -starve, provisions are getting so high.”</p> - -<p>“Where are the diggin’s, then?”</p> - -<p>“Yonder, up in the mountains, stranger. We hear -tell they’ve made a big strike there. We’re going on -as soon as we can travel. But our oxen are about -petered out.”</p> - -<p>“How far’s Pike’s Peak?” demanded Left-over. -“Where’s the Pike’s Peak country? Why don’t you -go to Pike’s Peak?”</p> - -<p>“That’s Pike’s Peak down south, seventy-five -miles,” answered the man. “They call this the Pike’s -Peak country, but it’s only a name. I reckon you’ve -heard of them sliding down Pike’s Peak and scraping -up the gold as they slide. Don’t you believe it, mister. -The peak’s above snow line and the ground is frozen -solid. See that line of wagons? They’re all heading<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_192"></a>[192]</span> -to the new Gregory diggin’s, west in the mountains -about forty miles. That’s the big strike.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, shucks!” exclaimed Billy.</p> - -<p>Davy felt his heart sink; this, then, was not the -end of the gold-seekers’ trail, and the snowy mountains, -topping the barrier of the tumbled foot-hills, -looked like a hard country.</p> - -<p>“Come, Davy,” said the Reverend Mr. Baxter. -“We’ll see the sights first, anyway.”</p> - -<p>So they left Left-over, hauling out his pick and -spade and gold-pan to join the squads working along -the creek; and Hi and Jim and Billy, who set forth on -errands; and trudged away “to see the sights.”</p> - -<p>“This gold craze is all right as a means of attracting -the people here,” remarked the Reverend Mr. -Baxter, thoughtfully. “But the most wonderful part -to me is the settlement itself. There must be fifteen -hundred population already in scarce a year, and emigrants -are pouring in at the rate of a thousand a day, -I hear. There are fifty thousand on the way, Dave. -I don’t give a snap for the mines; but look, what has -happened! This gold excitement is going to settle -the plains. The United States has jumped at a leap -from the Missouri River six or seven hundred miles -to the mountains. With a city here, and cities at the -other end, there’ll soon be cities in between. A whole -lot of waste country is due to be made useful.”</p> - -<p>“I don’t call this much of a city yet,” commented<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_193"></a>[193]</span> -Davy, considerably disappointed over the end of his -trip.</p> - -<p>“Well,” said Mr. Baxter, “it’s the starter for one -if the people don’t starve to death. The weak hearts -will go back; the strong ones will stick; it’s only a -question of holding out for a while until the land is -cultivated.”</p> - -<p>Truly, Denver was a strange collection of tents -and shacks, with a few good buildings. The houses -were of hewn logs, sod roofs and dirt floors, and the -furniture was made mostly from slabs and planks. -There were few windows; and these were filled with -sacking stretched across or else had wooden shutters. -As far as Davy could see, the whole town did not -have a pane of glass.</p> - -<p>However, the streets (and particularly the two -main streets named Blake and Larimer) were thronged -with people as thick as the crowds at the other end of -the route, Leavenworth. Indians, Mexicans and whites -fairly jostled elbows, and conversation in every variety -of speech was heard. The whites wore costumes -ranging from the broadcloth frock coat and flowing -trousers of the St. Louis and New York merchant to -the flannel shirt, jeans trousers and heavy boots of the -regular plainsman and miner. The Mexicans wore -their broad, high-peaked hats and their serapes or gay -Mexican blankets, draped from their shoulders. The -Indians stalked about bare-headed, and enveloped in -their blankets also. There were few women.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_194"></a>[194]</span></p> - -<p>Several stores handling general merchandise had -been opened, but according to the signs goods were expensive. -One sign said: “Antelope Meat, 4 cents a -lb.” Picks and spades were the cheapest; they could -be bought for fifteen cents apiece, and nobody seemed -to be buying at that! This was a bad sign; it showed -how disgusted many of the overlanders had become -when they found that they could not dig gold out by -the pound where they stopped!</p> - -<p>Right in the centre of Denver was a large village -of Indians, camped in their tipis. By the hundreds -they were lounging about, men, women and children, -the men unclothed except for a girdle about the waist, -and the children wearing nothing at all.</p> - -<p>“Arapahoes,” pronounced Mr. Baxter. “Come -on, Davy. There’s the stage. Let’s go over to the -hotel.”</p> - -<p>A large cloth sign before a long one-story log -building said: “Denver House.” It was next to the -Arapahoe village. People were hurrying across to this -hotel, for a stage-coach, with crack of whip and cheer -from passengers and driver, had halted short in front -of it.</p> - -<p>The coach, drawn by its four mules, dusty and -lathered, bore the lettering: “Leavenworth & Pike’s -Peak Express Co.” So this, then, was the daily -Leavenworth stage. Already the street before the -hotel was crowded with onlookers who had gathered -to receive the coach. When Davy and Mr. Baxter<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_195"></a>[195]</span> -arrived the travel-worn passengers were clambering -out. The first was Mr. Majors himself! Davy recognized -the long beard and he and Mr. Baxter pressed -forward to welcome their friend.</p> - -<p>“Why, hello, boys,” quoth Mr. Majors. “Where’d -you drop from?”</p> - -<p>“Just got in,” answered Mr. Baxter, shaking -hands, as did Davy. “We came by mule and wagon -with Billy Cody and two or three others.”</p> - -<p>“How?”</p> - -<p>“Up the Smoky.”</p> - -<p>“Joined the gold rush, did you?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, sir. But I’ve about decided I’d rather plant -potatoes.”</p> - -<p>“How about you, Dave?” queried Mr. Majors.</p> - -<p>“I’d like to eat one,” asserted Davy ruefully.</p> - -<p>“You’ve got the right idea, I guess,” approved -Mr. Majors. “But I understand Horace Greeley has -told the people here they ought to plant potatoes, and -they laughed at him. Potatoes are a better crop than -gold, in my opinion; but this country certainly doesn’t -look very promising for them. How people are going -to live I don’t know. It will be good for the freighting -business, though. We’ll be hauling stuff in here with -every team we can muster. Did you know we’ve taken -over the stage line, too?”</p> - -<p>“No, sir.”</p> - -<p>“Well, we have. It’s run by Russell, Majors & -Waddell now. Call in on me before I leave, and I’ll<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_196"></a>[196]</span> -give you a pass to Leavenworth in case you want to -go back.”</p> - -<p>“All right. Thank you, Mr. Majors.”</p> - -<p>“If I were you, my lad, I wouldn’t stay around -here long,” continued Mr. Majors to Davy. “This -place is going to be a good place, and I haven’t any -doubt that lots of gold will come out of these mountains -as soon as the people are experienced in finding -it. But looking for gold haphazard is a poor job for -a boy. I think you’ll do much better on the plains. -A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush, you know; -and there’s a big work to be done in helping these -people live. If the freight outfits aren’t kept moving -the diggings will starve. If you’ll come in to Leavenworth -we’ll put you to work with the bull trains.”</p> - -<p>“You’d better do it, Davy,” advised Mr. Baxter. -And Davy soberly nodded.</p> - -<p>“I guess I will, then.”</p> - -<p>“I’m up at our Nebraska City office most of the -time now,” said Mr. Majors. “But you’ll find Mr. -Russell at Leavenworth and I’ll tell him to fix you out.” -And Mr. Majors shouldered his way into the hotel.</p> - -<p>“Whar’s the post-office, stranger?” asked a voice; -and turning they faced an emigrant evidently newly -arrived.</p> - -<p>“I don’t know. We’re lost around here, ourselves,” -explained Mr. Baxter.</p> - -<p>“Pardon. I tella the way,” spoke somebody else. -He was a tall, swarthy-visaged man, with heavy black<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_197"></a>[197]</span> -moustache and black bushy eyebrows, a large meerschaum -pipe in his mouth. However, he was neatly -dressed, even to natty shoes. He looked like a foreigner, -and his accent sounded foreign. He continued -rapidly: “That beeg house w’ere you see-a the -line of men.”</p> - -<p>“Thank ’ee,” acknowledged the emigrant, after a -hearty stare. And he strode off.</p> - -<p>“And you, signors? Canna I direct you zomeplace?” -inquired the foreign man, with a bow.</p> - -<p>“We’re just looking around, is all,” informed Mr. -Baxter.</p> - -<p>“Then later. Perhappa for the hair or the whiskers; -perhappa for the wash. Permitta me.” And -with another bow he handed to Mr. Baxter and to -Davy his card.</p> - -<p>It read: “H. Murat. Tonsorial Artist. Shaves, -Trims and Cuts. Laundry Done.”</p> - -<p>“Do you know who he is?” piped another voice -at Davy’s side, as the dark foreigner disappeared in -the crowd. “He’s a count, a real Italian count.”</p> - -<p>The speaker was a slender, fair-haired little fellow, -not much older than Dave himself.</p> - -<p>“He’s Count Murat. His father was a big man -in Italy. But out here the count’s a barber and his -wife takes in washing.”</p> - -<p>“I declare!” ejaculated Mr. Baxter. “And where -did you come from, son?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_198"></a>[198]</span></p> - -<p>“From the States. I’ve been up in the diggin’s, -but I froze my feet and I’m going home.”</p> - -<p>“Are your folks here?”</p> - -<p>“No, sir. I ran away. But I’ve got enough and -when I reach home I’m going to stay there.”</p> - -<p>“Well, you’d better,” approved Mr. Baxter. -“You’re too young to be out here alone.”</p> - -<p>“I guess I am,” admitted the little fellow. “Life -out here is fierce unless you’re used to it.”</p> - -<p>“How are the diggin’s?” queried Davy, eagerly.</p> - -<p>“Forty miles into the mountains—and then always -a little farther,” asserted the young fellow. “If you -can stick it out and don’t freeze to death or starve to -death you may make a few hundred dollars—and you -may not. Did you ever mine?”</p> - -<p>“No,” said Davy, and Mr. Baxter shook his head, -smiling.</p> - -<p>“Then you’re tenderfeet like I am. That’s the -trouble in there. Half the people don’t know how to -find gold and the other half don’t know it when they -do find it. It’s fierce, I tell you. <em>I’m</em> bound home, -busted. I had to walk in, fifty miles; but I’ve earned -just enough to take me through to the Missouri.”</p> - -<p>“How?” asked Davy.</p> - -<p>“Sweeping out for one of the gambling houses,” -and with a gesture of disgust the slender youngster -turned away.</p> - -<p>Mr. Baxter watched him a moment.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_199"></a>[199]</span></p> - -<p>“Davy,” he uttered, “that’s no boy. That’s a girl. -Great Scott! What a place for a girl!”</p> - -<p>And later they found out that Mr. Baxter had -spoken the truth. They were glad to learn that the -pretended boy took the next stage back to Leavenworth -and reached there safely.</p> - -<p>“Let’s try our luck at the post-office,” proposed -Mr. Baxter. “I’d like to get a letter, myself.”</p> - -<p>They threaded their way in the direction of the -office. The mail had recently come in, for from the -post-office window a line of men, single file, extended -over a block. However, before they two took their -places Billy Cody stopped them.</p> - -<p>“I asked for your mail,” he announced. “There -wasn’t any. I got a letter from ma. All she said was: -‘Dear Will. Let us know how you are. We are well. -Mother.’ And I had to pay fifty cents for it down -from Laramie. The new stage line carries letters for -twenty-five cents. Wish ma had written more for the -money. She might just as well.”</p> - -<p>“What’s the news, Billy? What are you and the -rest of the outfit going to do?”</p> - -<p>“Hi and Jim and I are going on up to the diggin’s -right away. See that line of travel?” And Billy -pointed to the constant procession of wagons and of -people afoot, extending from the settlement as far as -the eye could reach, westward into the hills fifteen miles -distant. They’re all going. Left-over’s quit and -joined another outfit. He couldn’t wait. Jim and Hi<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_200"></a>[200]</span> -are buying supplies. Did you notice the prices? -Eggs are two dollars and a half a dozen. Milk fifty -cents a quart. Flour ten dollars for a fifty-pound sack. -Reckon beans and sowbelly will do for us. They say -even game is scarce around the diggin’s.</p> - -<p>“If you fellows don’t mind I believe I’ll stay around -here for a while till people cool down a little,” said the -Reverend Mr. Baxter.</p> - -<p>“Cool down!” exclaimed Billy. “Huh! The -stage driver says he passed ten thousand emigrants all -heading this way!”</p> - -<p>“Then I guess I won’t be missed,” laughed Mr. -Baxter.</p> - -<p>“How about you, Dave?” asked Billy.</p> - -<p>Davy hesitated. What the “boy” (who was a -girl) had told them rather weighed on his mind. And -the same old story of “beans and sowbelly” did not -sound inviting any longer.</p> - -<p>“We saw Mr. Majors. He offered Dave a job -freighting and a pass to Leavenworth,” put in Mr. -Baxter.</p> - -<p>“Take it if you want to, Dave,” said Billy, quickly. -“Life in the diggin’s will be mighty tough, but I’ve -got started and I’m going in. You do as you please.”</p> - -<p>“Well,” faltered Dave, “I reckon maybe I’ll stay -out a while.”</p> - -<p>“All right,” quoth Billy. “We’ll see you before -we leave. We want to pull right out, though.”</p> - -<p>Nothing could stop Hi and Jim and Billy; and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_201"></a>[201]</span> -sure enough that afternoon they did pull out for the -diggings forty and more miles west, among the mountains. -They settled with Mr. Baxter and Dave for -the two shares in the Hee-Haw outfit, and left with a -cheer.</p> - -<p>Davy felt a momentary twinge of regret that he -was not going, too; but when he remembered what -Mr. Majors had said about “haphazard looking” and -a “bird in the hand” he decided that, after all, he -had done what was best. The work of bridging the -plains was a great work and very necessary if these -settlements at the mountains were to live.</p> - -<p>“Let’s go over to Auraria and see that, Dave,” -invited Mr. Baxter. “Then we can find a place to stop -in over night. I’m tired of bedding out on the ground.”</p> - -<p>Cherry Creek was almost dry. Camps and cabins -had been located right in the middle of it, so -they easily walked across. Auraria was larger than -Denver, but the buildings were not so good. They were -of rough cottonwood logs, whereas the Denver logs -were smoothed and many were of pine brought down -from the timber in the hills. Auraria had the newspaper, -the <cite>Rocky Mountain News</cite>, whose press and -type and so forth had been hauled overland by the -editor, Mr. W. N. Byers. Like Denver City, Auraria -was bustling with all kinds of people.</p> - -<p>“How are you, strangers? Don’t you want to buy a -city lot and make your fortune?” invited an alert man -of the two Hee-Haws.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_202"></a>[202]</span></p> - -<p>“What’s the price?” asked Mr. Baxter.</p> - -<p>“What’ll you give? Cash or trade? The best -lots in the city. Can’t be beat.”</p> - -<p>“Will you take a sack of flour?” demanded Mr. -Baxter.</p> - -<p>“Done!” snapped the man. “Flour’s better than -money, friend. Where’s your flour?”</p> - -<p>“Where are your lots?”</p> - -<p>“Right yonder. I’ll show you.”</p> - -<p>The man promptly led them on. The lots proved -to be somewhere in the midst of bare, sandy ground -half a mile out from the business street. They looked -forlorn and lonely, and Davy did not think much of -them. Neither, evidently, did Mr. Baxter. One rude -cabin stood there.</p> - -<p>“Cabin too?” queried Mr. Baxter.</p> - -<p>“Sure.”</p> - -<p>“How many lots?”</p> - -<p>“Five, my friend. Five of the finest lots in this -bustling metropolis for your sack of flour. And remember -this is Auraria; ’tain’t measley Denver. I -reckon you could buy half of Denver for your flour -and then you’d be cheated.”</p> - -<p>“All right. We’ll take you, won’t we, Davy?” -responded Mr. Baxter, off-hand. “And we’ll move -right in.”</p> - -<p>“Show me your flour and we’ll go to the land office -and close the deal.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_203"></a>[203]</span></p> - -<p>So they delivered to him the flour. At the land -office the clerk asked their names.</p> - -<p>“This is the Jones’ flour, Dave,” reminded Mr. -Baxter, eyeing Davy. “We’ll have that deed made out -to Jasper Jones; he’s on the way. Meanwhile we’ll -occupy the cabin.”</p> - -<p>That was certainly a good scheme—besides, as -occurred to Dave, being very honest. Only it seemed -rather a high price to pay for just five lots away from -everywhere. The next time that Davy saw those lots -they were quoted at a thousand dollars apiece!</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_204"></a>[204]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="XIV">XIV<br /> -<small>DAVY SIGNS AS “EXTRA”</small></h2> -</div> - - -<p>One more day in Denver and Auraria satisfied -Dave. He had seen about all there was to see, and had -loafed long enough. He wanted to go to work. However, -many other people wanted to go to work, too. -But work was scarce and money scarcer, and provisions -were tremendously high. Travellers were constantly -coming back from the mountains with tales of -woe and with empty pockets and sore feet. The -great editor, Horace Greeley, had advised people to -plant crops; then he had continued on west, for California. -But the people were bent on getting rich all -at once by mining instead of waiting for crops. This -made the situation bad, especially for a boy.</p> - -<p>“You’d better take the stage back to-morrow, -Dave,” counselled Mr. Baxter. “I’ll see you later.”</p> - -<p>“Guess I will, then,” said Dave. “What will you -do, though?” For he did not like to desert his -partner.</p> - -<p>“Oh,” laughed Mr. Baxter, “there’s a good living -in hauling timber in from the foothills. Another fellow -has offered to furnish the team and do the hauling -if I’ll do the chopping. But that’s no life for a boy,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_205"></a>[205]</span> -Dave. You’ll learn more, freighting out of Leavenworth; -and then you can go to school in the winter. -See?”</p> - -<p>That sounded sensible. Thus the Hee-Haw outfit -had divided: Billy Cody and Hi and Jim and Left-over -mining; Mr. Baxter cutting timber, and Davy freighting -across the plains. Such was life in the busy West.</p> - -<p>Davy engaged passage in the next morning’s -Leavenworth & Pike’s Peak stage, east bound to the -States. It had taken the Hee-Haw outfit forty days -to come out; now Davy was going back in six. This -was luxury. The coach held six passengers, with one -on the seat. There was a school-teacher from Vermont, -a merchant from Ohio, a banker from Chicago, -an army officer from Fort Leavenworth, a man and -wife from Boston, and Davy. All, except Davy, had -been to the “diggin’s”—and the Ohio merchant let slip -the fact that he had located a good claim there where -he and his partner were washing out two hundred dollars -a day! So he was returning for his family.</p> - -<p>Yes, it was an interesting company; but as best -of all, the driver was Hank Bassett!</p> - -<p>“Why, hello!” greeted Hank of Dave. “Bully -for you. Get up here on the seat. I’ll take you -through in style.”</p> - -<p>“I engaged that seat,” objected the school-teacher.</p> - -<p>“Not much,” retorted Hank. “It’ll make you -seasick. I can have what I want in this seat; and the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_206"></a>[206]</span> -boy rides there. I can depend on him if I need a hand, -and that’s very important, mister.”</p> - -<p>“You know him, do you?”</p> - -<p>“You’re right I know him. We’ve worked together -before, haven’t we, Dave?”</p> - -<p>Davy blushed, somewhat embarrassed by Hank’s -hearty manner; but Hank had ordered, and Hank was -boss, and Dave climbed to the seat beside him.</p> - -<p>With crack of whip and cheer from the crowd -gathered to watch, at a gallop out surged the four -mules for the nigh seven hundred miles to the Missouri -River and the States. Davy thoroughly enjoyed that -trip. Hank sent his mules forward at a rattling pace; -for, as he explained, he changed teams at every station, -eighteen or twenty miles apart. Night and day the -stage travelled, making its one hundred miles each -twenty-four hours, halting only to change teams and -for meals.</p> - -<p>And night and day the Pike’s Peak pilgrims were -in sight. The westward travel was even more pronounced -than earlier in the year, when the Hee-Haws -had joined in it. There were new signs, too, on the -wagons. “Bound for the Land of Gold.” “Family -Express; Milk for Sale!” “Mind Your Own Business.” -“We Are Off for the Peak. Are You?” -“Hooray for the Diggin’s!” These and other announcements -Davy read on the prairie schooners as the -hurrying stage passed.</p> - -<p>“Horace Greeley, the New York editor, wrote<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_207"></a>[207]</span> -back east that the Pike’s Peak country is O. K.,” said -Hank to Davy. “That’s what’s set the tide flowin’ in -earnest. People were waitin’ to get his opinion. He -inspected the diggin’s, and he says the gold is thar—although -most people would do better to take up land -in Kansas and go to farmin’. If you call this trail a -busy one you ought to see the Salt Lake Overland Trail -up the Platte. I hear three hundred wagons a day -pass Fort Kearney. This booms the freightin’ business. -The old man (Hank meant Mr. Majors) and -his pards are puttin’ on every team they can lay hands -to for haulin’ goods an’ provisions. Why, this hyar -stage line is usin’ a thousand mules and fifty coaches. -You’re thinkin’ of bull whackin’, are you?”</p> - -<p>“Mr. Majors offered me a job,” answered Davy.</p> - -<p>Hank spat over the lines.</p> - -<p>“It’s a good firm to work for,” he said. “And a -man’s job. After you’ve bull whacked a while you’ll -be drivin’ stage like I am.”</p> - -<p>That sounded attractive. To handle four mules at -a gallop, dragging a coach across the plains in spite of -Indians and weather, appeared quite a feat. Driving -stage meant taking care of people as well as of animals.</p> - -<p>However, holding up one’s end with a freight outfit -was not to be despised, these days. On arriving at -Leavenworth Davy lost no time in reporting at the -Russell, Majors & Waddell office. Mr. Majors was -not here. He had removed his family up to Nebraska -City, on the Missouri above Leavenworth, where a<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_208"></a>[208]</span> -branch office had been established in order to relieve -the crowded state of the Leavenworth shipping yards. -However, if Mr. Majors was gone, here was Mr. Russell, -as snappy and alert as ever, taking care of whatever -came his way.</p> - -<p>“All right, my boy,” he greeted promptly. “If -you want a job you’re just in time. When did you -get in?”</p> - -<p>“This noon, Mr. Russell.”</p> - -<p>“I suppose you’re ready to start back again for -the mountains?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, sir.”</p> - -<p>“Good. We’ve got a train made up to leave in -about an hour. Charley Martin’s wagon master. -You’ll find him a fine fellow. He comes from a wealthy -family in my home town, Lexington, Missouri. You’ll -be an ‘extra’ at forty dollars a month, and have a -mule to ride. I expect you to do as well as Billy Cody’s -done. You know what your duties are, do you? -You’ll act as the wagon master’s orderly, or messenger, -to carry word along the line; and if necessary -you’ll fill the place of any hand who’s sick. Let’s see—you -signed the pledge once, didn’t you?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, Mr. Russell.”</p> - -<p>“Well, we changed that pledge a little to make it -stronger. Mr. Majors has drawn up a new one. Read -it before you sign,” and Mr. Russell reached out his -tanned, freckled hand for a pad of printed forms.</p> - -<p>Davy read: “I, ——, do hereby swear, before<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_209"></a>[209]</span> -the Great and Living God, that during my engagement -and while I am in the employ of Russell, Majors & -Waddell, I will, under no circumstances, use profane -language; that I will drink no intoxicating liquors; that -I will not quarrel or fight with any other employe of -the firm, and that in every respect I will conduct myself -honestly, be faithful to my duties, and so direct -all my acts as to win the confidence and esteem of my -employers. So help me God.”</p> - -<p>This was an impressive promise, but it sounded -just like the strict and Christian Mr. Majors. Dave -had no hesitation in signing it.</p> - -<p>“All right,” crisply approved Mr. Russell. “If -you keep that pledge you’ll never be far wrong. Here’s -your Bible. To every man employed in our trains we -give a Bible. There’s no time or place when the Bible -isn’t a help and a comfort. The more of them we get -on the plains the better. Now I’m going out to the -camp. You come along and I’ll start you off.”</p> - -<p>Davy tucked the compact little leather-bound Bible -into his pocket, and followed Mr. Russell’s wiry active -figure out of the door. Russell, Majors & Waddell -certainly organized their business on somewhat unusual -lines; Davy had heard the pledge and the Bible -both laughed at by outsiders as being foolishness for -running bull trains. But nobody was enabled to point -out the harm done, and few denied that considerable -good might result. At any rate, no better bull outfits -crossed the plains than those of Russell, Majors &<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_210"></a>[210]</span> -Waddell. They did what no other outfits could do; -nothing stopped them.</p> - -<p>The streets of Leavenworth were busier than ever, -with emigrants, teamsters, rivermen, soldiers, and Indians—Kickapoos, -Osages and Pottawattamies; with -wagons, oxen, mules and horses. The company’s -freight trains were started from a large camp on the -outskirts of town. Hither Mr. Russell, with Davy in -tow, hastened.</p> - -<p>Charley Martin was speedily found working hard—together -with the assistant wagon master, who was -nicknamed “Yank.”</p> - -<p>“Here’s your ‘extra,’ Charley,” announced Mr. -Russell.</p> - -<p>Charley paused and wiped his forehead. He gazed, -rather puzzled.</p> - -<p>“What name does he go by, Mr. Russell?”</p> - -<p>“Davy Scott.”</p> - -<p>“Sometimes they call me ‘Red,’ too,” volunteered -Davy.</p> - -<p>Charley Martin smiled; and when he smiled, Davy -instantly liked him.</p> - -<p>“Oho! This must be Billy Cody’s pard on the trail -and at the Cody home, I reckon. I’ve heard about him, -but I never had the pleasure of meeting him. You -must have been growing some, haven’t you, Red? I -thought you were a runt.” And Davy fidgeted, embarrassed. -During his sturdy life in the open air he -had indeed been growing; he had shot up and broadened<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_211"></a>[211]</span> -out, and had acquired a steady eye and a manner -of self-reliance. “Where’ve you been keeping yourself -lately?” continued Charley.</p> - -<p>“I’ve just got back from Pike’s Peak.”</p> - -<p>“Good for you. Well, if you’ve travelled with -Billy Cody, and Mr. Russell recommends you, too, -you’ll do.” And Charley called to his assistant: -“Here’s our ‘extra,’ Yank.”</p> - -<p>Charley was small and compact, tanned and gray-eyed, -and so quick and cheery that anybody felt like -calling him by his first name at once. “Yank,” the -assistant wagon boss, was high-shouldered, long-legged, -slouchy, and very different from Charley. His -sullen face was bristly with carroty stubble, his eyes -were small and close together, and his lips were thin -and hard-set, leaking tobacco-juice. Him, Davy did -not fancy at all; and by his glance and contemptuous -grunt he evidently did not fancy Davy.</p> - -<p>Further exchange of conversation was interrupted -by the incisive voice of Mr. Russell reproving a teamster -who had a perverse ox in hand.</p> - -<p>“My man, don’t you understand there’s to be no -cursing while you’re working for this company?”</p> - -<p>“I’m not cursing,” retorted the man, with a dreadful -oath.</p> - -<p>“But you’re cursing right this minute!” asserted -Mr. Russell, sharply.</p> - -<p>“I’m not, either,” answered the man, with another -oath.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_212"></a>[212]</span></p> - -<p>“Why, you curse every time you open your -mouth,” asserted Mr. Russell, red with anger.</p> - -<p>“I don’t,” insisted the man, as before.</p> - -<p>That was too much for Mr. Russell. As if not -knowing quite what to do with such an ignoramus as -this he walked off, scratching his head, and left the -puzzled teamster scratching his.</p> - -<p>“Well, Red, get busy if you’re to travel with this -outfit,” bade Charley to Davy; and proceeded to give -orders right and left.</p> - -<p>The train was made up and almost ready to start. -The last covers were being drawn taut, and the last -wagon, which had been delayed to load in town, was -approaching.</p> - -<p>“All set?” shouted Charley to the teamster who, -standing beside the rear pair of his team, seemed to -have been appointed as the leader.</p> - -<p>The teamster nodded.</p> - -<p>“All set.”</p> - -<p>“String out,” ordered Charley, and the word was -carried along: “String out, boys! Fall in!”</p> - -<p>The lead teamster flung his lash; it flipped forward -and cracked like a pistol-shot over the backs of -his twelve oxen.</p> - -<p>“Spot! Dandy! Yip! Yip with you!”</p> - -<p>The twelve oxen lunged all together as a well-trained -team; and creaking, the huge wagon rolled -ahead.</p> - -<p>“Haw! Whoa—haw! Hep! Hep!”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_213"></a>[213]</span></p> - -<p>To the shouts, and the volley of whip-snappers, the -grunts of the oxen, creakings of the wagons and yokes, -and rattle of the ox-chains, the train uncoiled from -the mass that it had formed and lengthened out into a -long line. Led by that first teamster whose “bulls,” -sleek-coated, evidently were his pride, the white-topped -bull train stretched out for the farther West.</p> - -<p>Charley, the wagon master, rode well up with the -leading team, and Davy, his assistant, as his aide or -orderly, rode at his elbow ready for orders. Yank, -assistant wagon master, was down the line. At the -rear, behind the few loose cattle taken along for use in -case of accidents, rode on a mule the “cavvy” herder—a -young Eastern chap who was Mr. Waddell’s -nephew and wanted to learn plains life. “Cavvy” of -course was the short for “cavvy-yard,” and “cavvy-yard” -was the slang for “caballada,” Spanish of -“horse-herd.”</p> - -<p>There were twenty-six wagons in the train: twenty-five -loaded with freight and one mess-wagon carrying -the supplies. They were enormous wagons, some of -them seventeen feet long, the broad boxes five or six -feet deep, the great wheels wide tired; and over all a -flaring hood of canvas labelled “Osnaburg” (the -trademark of the famous mills which furnished most -of the duck and sheeting used on the plains), stretched -upon bows, nailed fast at the edges to the wagon-box, -but at either end puckered tight by draw ropes, leaving -an oblong hole. As Davy knew, the wheels, axles and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_214"></a>[214]</span> -other running gear were the very best of wood. Even -the ends of the axles, on which fitted the wheels, were -wood. The wheels were held on by an iron linch-pin -thrust through the axle outside the hub. These wooden -axles on the sandy, dusty plains required much greasing, -and from the rear axle of each wagon hung a pot -of tar for greasing. On the reach-pole, which was the -pole projecting from underneath the box, out behind -the wagon, was slung a ten-gallon keg of water.</p> - -<p>Each wagon was drawn by twelve oxen, yoked together -in six pairs. This was the regular fashion; -twenty-five freight wagons to a train, and six yoke of -bulls to a wagon. There were thirty-one men in the -outfit: a teamster for each of the twenty-six wagons, -the wagon master and the assistant wagon master, Davy -the “extra” another “extra” (who was a regular -teamster), and the cavvy herder. The teamsters -trudged beside their teams; the only persons who rode -were Charley and Yank and Davy and the cavvy -herder, on their mules.</p> - -<p>The freight train was called a “bull train”; the -wagons were “bull wagons”; the oxen were “bull -teams”; the teamsters were “bull whackers”; the -wagon master was the “bull wagon boss”; and the -whole array was a “bull outfit.”</p> - -<p>Stretched out in a line a quarter of a mile long, the -train made a handsome sight to Davy, proudly looking -back from his post at the flank of Charley’s mule. -The oxen, fresh for the start, with heads low and necks<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_215"></a>[215]</span> -fitted into great wooden yoke and bow, pulled stanchly, -at a dignified, steady plod, keeping the heavy ox-chains -tight. The majority of the “bulls” were spotted white -and red or black; there were a number of roans and -reds and a few black. The head team were black, -except the pair next to the wagon, which were red. -Several had been dehorned because they were -fighters.</p> - -<p>The teamsters strode sturdily, cracking their whips, -shouting to their teams and to one another, and occasionally -singing. One and all wore neither coat nor -vest, but heavy flannel shirt of red or blue, and a silk -or cotton handkerchief about the neck. Their shirts -were tucked into coarse trousers, and the trousers into -high, stout cowhide boots. On their heads were the -regular broad-brimmed, flat-crowned felt hats that -plains travellers liked best. About the waists of the -most of the men were strapped one or two big Colt’s -revolvers, and through the belt was thrust a butcher-knife. -They all had a gun somewhere, either belted -on or else as a yager or a rifle stowed handily in the -wagon. And every teamster carried, trailing or coiled, -his long-lashed whip.</p> - -<p>The train was, as Charley remarked roundly to -Dave, “a crack outfit.”</p> - -<p>“We’ve got some of the top-notcher teams and -whackers of the whole Russell, Majors & Waddell concern,” -he said. “There’s not a better bull-whip slinger<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_216"></a>[216]</span> -or a better six yoke of bulls on the trail than right -here with this lead wagon. Of course, I suppose we’ve -some crooked sticks, like every train has; but they’ve -got to behave themselves while I’m boss.”</p> - -<p>The train was bound for Denver by the regular -Overland Trail up the Platte River, through central -Nebraska. The Government road from Leavenworth, -to strike the main trail, was that travelled road which -crossed the Salt Creek Valley; Davy seized the chance -to dart aside for a moment and say “how-de-do” to -Mother Cody and the girls. He gave them what word -he could of Billy, but they gave him none, for they -had not had time to hear from Billy since he had -reached the diggings.</p> - -<p>The bull train toiled on over the hill and out of the -valley. Now it was fairly launched upon its day-by-day -journey of 700 miles. It did not travel alone. -The trail before and behind was alive with other outfits, -chiefly emigrants, likewise bound for the “Peak,” -and Charley asserted that when the main trail was -entered, at Fort Kearney, where the travel from -Omaha and St. Joe and Nebraska City joined with the -travel from Leavenworth, there’d scarcely be room to -camp!</p> - -<p>“How long will we be on the road, do you think?” -asked Dave.</p> - -<p>“Leavenworth to Denver? About fifty days if we -have reasonable luck. The trail’s so crowded and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_217"></a>[217]</span> -dusty and fodder’s so scarce I don’t reckon we’ll average -more than twelve miles a day. We’re hauling -seventy hundred pounds in some of those wagons. -But I have averaged fifteen miles a day; and travelling -empty a smart bull train headed for home can make -twenty.”</p> - -<p>It now was past midsummer; it would be fall when -the train reached the mountains, and winter before it -got home again.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_218"></a>[218]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="XV">XV<br /> -<small>FREIGHTING ACROSS THE PLAINS</small></h2> -</div> - - -<p>“Do you know,” drawled Charley Martin, lazily, -after supper this evening, “there’s a heap of money -wrapped up in one of these bull outfits?”</p> - -<p>They had made camp at sunset—and the sight had -been an inspiring one. On order from Charley, the -lead wagon had turned from the trail and halted; the -second wagon had pulled up opposite and also halted; -the third wagon had halted behind the first, a little -outside of it, with tongue pointing out and the fore -wheels about on a line with the other wagon’s rear -wheels. The fourth wagon had halted in similar position -behind the second wagon. And so forth. Each -wagon widened the circle until it was time for them -to begin to edge the other way and narrow the circle. -At the last the circle was complete, save for an opening -at either end. When the ox-chains had been linked -from wagon-wheel to next wagon-wheel then the bull -corral, as it was called, was finished. Or, no; after -the bulls had been unyoked and driven to water and -pasture each wagon tongue was hung off the ground, -slung in the draw ropes of the front end of the hood. -This weight kept the canvas hood pulled taut in case -of storm.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_219"></a>[219]</span></p> - -<p>It took considerable skill in driving to swing the -long bull teams and land the wagons just right to form -the corral. Yes, and the animals needed to be well -trained, too. By the way that all went to work this -wagon outfit knew their business.</p> - -<p>The corral was useful for yoking the bulls and for -standing off Indians. No Indians dared to charge a -wagon corral when the men inside it had guns and -ammunition.</p> - -<p>The bulls were put out to pasture in charge of two -teamsters selected as herders. The men had been -divided into four messes. Each mess chose a cook and -their water carrier and fuel gatherers and guards—when -guard was needed. Davy was in Captain Charley’s -mess, which consisted of Charley and Yank, Davy, -the cavvy herder, the lead teamster, whose name was -Joel Badger, and the extra teamster, Henry Renick, -who did the cooking. This was the smallest mess.</p> - -<p>Each mess had its fire, about which the men -lounged after eating, to smoke their pipes and joke and -tell stories.</p> - -<p>“Yes, siree; there’s a lot of money wrapped up in -a bull outfit,” quoth Wagon Boss Charley. “Take -this train here. The most of those wagons are ‘Murphies’ -(by which he meant wagons manufactured -by J. Murphy, of St. Louis), or else the Conestoga -pattern built down at Westport (and by Westport -was meant Kansas City). Only the best of stuff -goes into those wagons. Hickory, generally—though<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_220"></a>[220]</span> -osage orange is said to be better, for it won’t warp. -But second growth hickory and sound white oak answer -the purpose if they’re so well seasoned that they -won’t shrink or warp. This dry air out on these plains -plays the dickens with wheels; it saps them dry and -makes them so they want to fall to pieces. Well, I -reckon you all know this better than I do. But as I -was going to say, one of these wagons figures easily -three hundred dollars, including bows and canvas. -Then, bulls have been seventy-five dollars a yoke, but -they’re rising to double that. Taking the six yoke at -five hundred dollars, and adding the yokes and bows -and chains and other gear, you’ll have nigh to a -thousand dollars in each wagon outfit. With twenty-five -and twenty-six wagons making a train there’s -twenty-five thousand dollars in outfit alone. And Russell, -Majors & Waddell have bull trains like this every -five or six miles clear across from the Missouri River -to Salt Lake!”</p> - -<p>“Not to speak of the wages of the men and the cost -of the supplies,” added Joel Badger.</p> - -<p>“Yes, sir; not to mention the thirty or more men -with every train at a dollar a day up; and the beans -and flour and sowbelly and coffee they use.”</p> - -<p>“Just the same,” observed Joel, “I hear that in -Fifty-six, before Waddell joined, Majors & Russell -cleaned up about seventy thousand dollars with three -hundred wagons at work.”</p> - -<p>Charley nodded.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_221"></a>[221]</span></p> - -<p>“You can sum up for yourself. We’re hauling -flour at nine cents a pound, meat at fifteen cents, furniture -at thirty cents, hardware at ten cents; and my waybill -shows we’re loaded with one hundred and sixty-three -thousand pounds of freight, averaging, I reckon, -at least fifteen cents.”</p> - -<p>“Which totals up between twenty-five and twenty-six -thousand dollars, as I make it,” proffered Joel.</p> - -<p>“Of course, the outfits don’t earn that both ways,” -reminded Henry Renick, scouring a skillet. “They -travel back empty.”</p> - -<p>“Well, twenty-five thousand dollars for the round -trip to the mountains isn’t so bad,” said Charley.</p> - -<p>“No,” grunted Yank, the assistant wagon boss. -“Russell, Majors & Waddell are makin’ their profits, -all right. They can sit at home an’ take things easy. -But the trail’s a hard life for the rest of us.”</p> - -<p>“Don’t you believe they take it easy,” retorted -Charley. “Did you ever hear of Alex Majors taking -it easy? And look at Billy Russell, with all the Leavenworth -freighting on his shoulders. Besides, they know -that one big blizzard or one Indian war would wipe -them out in spite of their hustle. No; they’ve got the -worry; we’ve got the picnic.”</p> - -<p>“’Twould serve ’em right if they did get wiped out -once in a while,” growled Yank, who evidently was as -narrow-minded as his eyes indicated. “That psalm-singin’ -old whiskers has too many notions. No -swearin’, no drinkin’ no bull skinnin’, no fightin’, every<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_222"></a>[222]</span> -man read the Bible an’ lay up on Sunday! An outfit -can’t do freightin’ on these plains an’ follow any such -rules as those.”</p> - -<p>“See here,” bade Charley, sternly. He was a gritty -little chap. “You’re new amongst us, my man, and -I’ll warn you that when you speak to us of Mr. Majors -or Mr. Russell or Mr. Waddell either, you want to do -it civilly. They may have their peculiar notions of -how to run a bull outfit, but I notice they’ve made good -already with about twenty million pounds of Government -freight, and that’s a pretty big contract. They’re -a firm whose word is equal to a United States banknote; -and there’s not a man who ever worked for them -that won’t stick up for Russell, Majors & Waddell. -A kinder man than Mr. Majors never lived; and if he -tries to spread a little Christianity along the trail all -the more credit to him, and all the better for the rest -of us. We need some of that out here. The fact is -a Russell, Majors & Waddell bull train is the best on -the trail, besides being decent.”</p> - -<p>“Well,” rapped Yank, “as long as I do the work -I’m hired to do I’ll allow no man to tell me how to act. -When I signed that pledge for the whiskers outfit I -didn’t mean to keep it an’ I sha’n’t if I don’t choose.”</p> - -<p>He stalked off; they gazed after—Charley with a -keen glint in his gray eyes.</p> - -<p>“There’s a man” spoke Henry the mess cook, -“who’ll take it out on animals when he gets mad. -He’s just mean enough.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_223"></a>[223]</span></p> - -<p>“He’ll not take it out on my team,” remarked Joel, -quietly. “I don’t whip my bulls.”</p> - -<p>“No, nor on mine,” asserted Henry.</p> - -<p>“Anybody who thinks he has to beat bulls to drive -them doesn’t know how to drive,” added Charley.</p> - -<p>That night they all slept on the ground under -blankets and quilts and buffalo robes; many of the men -slept beneath their wagons. The neck-yokes of the -oxen, with an overcoat folded into the hollow of the -curve in them, made comfortable pillows. At least so -Davy found his when, to be a veteran bull whacker, he -borrowed a yoke and tried. Two men at a time night-herded -the cattle. Davy, being an “extra,” did not -go on herd yet.</p> - -<p>The mess cooks were up at dawn preparing breakfast; -and speedily the collection of little camps was -astir. The men called back and forth, washed at the -nearby creek, brought water in buckets, and what fuel -they found, and were ready for breakfast when breakfast -was ready for them. The company, Davy learned, -furnished everything, even to the gunny sacking in -which buffalo chips and bull chips were gathered; -everything except the men’s revolvers. These the men -owned.</p> - -<p>By the time that the breakfasts were over the cattle -had been driven, with shouts and crack of whip, into -the wagon corral, where under a dust cloud they stood -grunting and jostling. Yank posted himself at one -gap of the corral Charley at the other.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_224"></a>[224]</span></p> - -<p>“Catch up! Catch up, boys!” called Charley, the -wagon boss; the cry was repeated, and the men sprang -to their yokes. Every man with his yoke on his shoulder, -a yoke pin in his hand, another in his mouth, and -an ox-bow slung on his arm, the gang poured into the -corral. It was an interesting sight, and a number of -emigrants who had camped near gathered to witness.</p> - -<p>There was a rivalry among the men as to which -should yoke up first. Davy wondered how they found -their bulls so readily; but in rapid succession every -man, working hard, had yoke and bows on a pair of -his team, and led them forth to his wagon. First the -yoke was laid over the neck of a bull, the bow was -slipped under and the pins thrust in to fasten bow to -yoke; then the other bull was yoked; and this done, -dragging the chains they were led out in a hurry. -This pair, Davy saw, were the wheel team—the team -next to the wagon. They supported the wagon pole, -which hung in a ring riveted to the centre of the yoke. -As soon as the wheel teams were hitched to the wagon -the men hastened to yoke and lead out the lead teams, -which were the teams at the other end of the six. -Then the space was filled in by the four other teams, -all the chains were hooked, the men straightened out -their six yoke, and the train was ready to move.</p> - -<p>It all had been done, as Davy thought, very quickly; -but Joel Badger, whom Davy liked exceedingly, thought -differently.</p> - -<p>“We make rather a botch of it at first,” said Joel,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_225"></a>[225]</span> -as beside his fine team he stood, whip in hand, waiting -for the word to start. “Some of the bulls are sure -to be green or ornery, and not used to their drivers or -each other. After they have pulled together for a -time all the bulls in each team will sorter flock in a -bunch, in the corral, and a fellow won’t have to hunt -through the herd. You’ll see some fast work before -you get to the end of the trail.”</p> - -<p>“Aren’t the mules as good as bulls?” queried -Davy.</p> - -<p>“No. They used to have mules and mule skinners -instead of bull whackers down on the Santa Fe Trail, -and I reckon they’ve used ’em on the Overland Trail, -too. Bulls are better all ’round. They can walk as -fast as a mule if they’re pushed; they can live on grazing -that a mule can’t; and they’re not so liable to be -stampeded. If Injuns run off any cattle we can overtake -’em by mule or horse and fetch ’em back. No, -for freight hauling the bulls are the best. Those used -down on the southern trails are Texas cattle largely; -small-bodied kind, with flaring big horns. These we -use in the north, on the Overland Trail, are some Durhams, -some Herefords, and so on. I reckon I’ve got -about the best team in the outfit; they’re black Galloways, -with a yoke of red Devons.”</p> - -<p>“Line out, men! Hep!” called Wagon Boss -Charley.</p> - -<p>Joel launched his whip with a tremendous crack -above the backs of his team.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_226"></a>[226]</span></p> - -<p>“Haw, Buck! Muley! Spot! Yip! Yip!”</p> - -<p>“Haw! Whoa—gee! Yip! Yip! Hep!” The -air was full of dust and shouts and cracking of whips; -and one after another out for the trail rolled the huge -wagons, until the circle of the corral had straightened -into the day’s line.</p> - -<p>The teamsters walked at the left side of their teams -until, when the wind began to blow the dust into their -faces, they changed about to the clear side. They -sang, they joked, occasionally they cracked their long -whips, and now and then one perched sideways on the -wagon-pole behind the wheel yoke, and swinging his -legs rode a short distance. But nobody entered a -wagon; the men either walked or sat on the pole for a -brief rest.</p> - -<p>Charley, the wagon boss, kept position near the -head of the column; Yank, the assistant wagon boss, -usually was found at the rear. Davy sometimes was -sent back with word from Charley; and once he was -dispatched five miles ahead to take a message to another -wagon train. He enjoyed these gallops over the -prairie on official business, and he enjoyed riding with -Charley.</p> - -<p>“I suppose you know the make-up of a team,” -proffered Charley, who seemed disposed to teach Dave -as much as he could. “The first yoke next to the -wagon are the wheel yoke; sometimes we call them -the pole yoke. The other yokes are the swing yokes, -until you come to the leaders, and these are the lead<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_227"></a>[227]</span> -yoke. In a mule team the middle or swing spans are -the pointers. Fact is, a four-span mule team is divided -into wheelers, swing team, pointers and lead team. -You didn’t time us this morning, did you?”</p> - -<p>“No, sir,” confessed Davy.</p> - -<p>“I hear Mr. Majors timed his outfit once, when it -was in good trim; and it was sixteen minutes from the -moment the men grabbed their yokes until the teams -were hitched and the train was ready to start. That’s -pretty fair for six yoke of bulls. I don’t believe we -can beat it, but we’re going to try after a bit.”</p> - -<p>“This noon I’ll show you how to pop a whip,” -called Joel to Dave.</p> - -<p>The men used their whips chiefly for the noise they -made. They drove with the whips; the long lash flew -out over the backs of the six yoke and seemed to crack -wherever the wielder wished it to crack. Sometimes -it barely flicked the back of some ox who required a -little urging, but it never landed hard. Those bull -whips were like living things, and in the hands of -Joel and his rivals were as accurate as a rifle. The most -of the men carried their whips with the lash trailing -over their shoulder ready to be jerked forward like a -cowboy’s rope. Dave felt a burning ambition to -“pop” a whip. It must be quite an art.</p> - -<p>The trail continued to be lined with emigrants, all -pushing west, the vast majority for the “Pike’s Peak -diggin’s,” but a few for California by way of the -Overland Trail to Fort Laramie, and on over the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_228"></a>[228]</span> -South Pass to Salt Lake and the farthest West. The -road was littered with cast-off stuff—so much of it -that nobody seemed to think it worth picking up again.</p> - -<p>“Great times for the Indians,” quoth Charley. -“But they don’t savvy stoves and furniture yet. What -they like most is the hoop iron off of the baled hay -that the Government sends out to the posts. That -hoop iron is fine for arrow points; many a poor fellow -crossing the plains is killed with Government hoop-iron.”</p> - -<p>“Will we meet many Indians, do you think?” asked -Davy.</p> - -<p>Charley shook his head.</p> - -<p>“We may meet a few gangs of beggars; but the -trail is too thick just now for much trouble. The Indians -haven’t got roused yet and started in on the -war-path. But they will, later. I reckon if you get -off the trail a ways you’ll meet with plenty trouble, -though. On the trail there are so many outfits that -they can help each other, you see. The Indians are -learning to shy off from bull outfits. We’re ready for -them any time, and it costs them too many scalps. -But when these plains begin to be settled with ranches -then look out for the Indians.”</p> - -<p>That noon the train halted on the far side of a -creek. According to Joel, trains always tried to cross -a creek before camping, in case a sudden storm might -come and hold the train back by swelling the ford. -They corralled, this noon, by a new evolution. One-half<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_229"></a>[229]</span> -the train, in regular order, formed a half of the -circle; the other half then formed the second half of -the circle. This was called corralling with the right -and left wings.</p> - -<p>While dinner was being cooked and the bulls were -herded off to water and graze, the men lounged in the -shade of their wagons. Dinner was the same as supper -and breakfast: fat salt pork or “sowbelly,” which came -to the plate in slabs six or eight inches thick; hot bread -baked in the kettle-like Dutch ovens; beans from the -supply baked in the ashes the night before; and black -coffee with sugar. That was the regulation until the -buffalo and antelope country was reached. The last of -the sugar was used, too; after this camp, all the way -to Denver the coffee would be sugarless. But that was -only ordinary. Nobody objected to the menu; appetites -were splendid.</p> - -<p>“Here,” spoke Joel, after dinner, rising, to Dave. -“I said I’d show you how to pop a whip, didn’t I?”</p> - -<p>“Joel can do it, all right,” approved Charley; and -several other men nodded, agreeing with him.</p> - -<p>And Bull Whacker Joel could. A heavy thing was -that whip; the lash, of braided buffalo hide, was -eighteen feet long and thick like a snake in the middle. -It had a cracker of buck-skin, six inches long, split at the -end; and a hickory stock eighteen inches long. Joel -said it cost eighteen dollars in Leavenworth. Flicking -it forward, from where it trailed on the ground, he -landed the tip wherever he wished. With the cracker<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_230"></a>[230]</span> -he picked up small objects at the full extent of the lash; -he snipped the tips from the sage and cut blossoms; -and how he “popped”!</p> - -<p>“He’s a boss bull-whip slinger,” laughed Charley, -approvingly. “You’ll never see a better one to pick -flies off the lead team.”</p> - -<p>“I’ve seen others,” uttered Yank, who somehow -appeared to have a grudge against the train. “These -fancy tricks will do for show, but give me the man who -can spot a bull twenty feet off an’ take a piece of hide -out with the cracker. I don’t want no fancy fly-killer -in my train. Bull whips are made for business.”</p> - -<p>“You don’t want bull whackers; you want -butchers,” retorted Joel, contemptuously. “Here, -Dave, try your luck. Give him room, boys.”</p> - -<p>Dave tried, but the long lash on the short handle -proved a queer thing to handle. It persisted in flying -crooked or falling short, and several times he almost -hanged himself or narrowly escaped losing an ear. -However, before he surrendered the whip to Joel he -had got the knack of popping it; that was something.</p> - -<p>“Hurray!” encouraged Joel. “We’ll make a bull -whacker of you before the end of this trip. You’ll -be able to pop a whip with the best of us.”</p> - -<p>Davy scarcely expected this skill; but he was resolved -to do so well that he could show Billy Cody.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_231"></a>[231]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="XVI">XVI<br /> -<small>YANK RAISES TROUBLE</small></h2> -</div> - - -<p>The bull train plodded on and on, day by day, -across the rolling prairies, whose soil, black, made -blackish dust. One day was much like another. The -principal excitement was the passing of the stages. -The Leavenworth & Pike’s Peak Express Company had -changed from the Smoky Hill route to Denver, and -were running on the famous Platte trail now: by the -Government road from Leavenworth to the Platte at -Fort Kearney, thence up the Platte and the South -Platte—the same road that the bull train was taking.</p> - -<p>Regularly once a day the stage from the east and -the stage from the west passed the train, which, like -everything else, drew aside at the sign of the well-known -dust ahead or behind, and with wave of whip -and shout of voice greeted the flight of the four mules -and the heavy coach. At gallop or brisk trot the stage -swept by—the driver scarcely deigning a glance at bull -whackers—and disappeared in its own cloud.</p> - -<p>For the bull train there were two halts each day: -at noon and at evening, when the wagons were corralled, -usually by the right and left wing, the oxen -unyoked, and camp made for rest and meals. Then,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_232"></a>[232]</span> -about one o’clock and about six in the morning, the -march was resumed. The men walked beside their -wheel cattle and by stepping out a little and “throwing” -the whip to the full extent of lash, stock and arm, -they could flick the backs of their lead cattle.</p> - -<p>However, they rarely needed to use the whip as a -punishment. The whole train maintained the pace set -by Joel’s lead team and followed that. Each team kept -close behind the wagon in front of them, so that the -lead yoke’s noses almost touched the rear end. It was -a close formation, preserved by the bulls themselves -without urging. The teamsters really had little to -do while on the level trail. But when the trail was -very soft, or creeks or gullies had to be crossed, then -there was work for all. Sometimes the teams were -doubled, until ten or twelve yoke of bulls were -stretched as one team, hauling the heavy wagons across -in turn.</p> - -<p>It was a great sight—the long line of panting, -puffing oxen, with nostrils wide and eyes bulging and -muscles of neck and back knotted, tugging all together, -while the whips cracked and the men shouted, -and slowly the huge white-topped wagon, swaying and -creaking, and weighing, with its load, five tons or more, -rolled onward out of difficulty.</p> - -<p>At such times Davy felt like giving the sweaty bulls -a cheer.</p> - -<p>In the morning early, before the sun blazed and the -dust and wind gathered, the plains were wonderfully<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_233"></a>[233]</span> -peaceful, and in the clear air the flowers seemed many -and the antelope and rabbits and prairie dogs more -lively. In the evening the men joked and told stories -and sang songs around their camp-fire ashes. The -favorite songs appeared to be one called “Days of -Forty-nine,” another called “Betsy From Pike,” and -another called “Joe Bowers.” This was a very long -song, especially when the men made up verses to fit it. -Charley said that anybody could begin it at Leavenworth -and end it at the mountains. But the song that -Davy liked the best was sung by “Sailor Bill,” one of -the bull whackers. It was “The Bay of Biscay, O!” -and in a deep bass voice Bill sang it finely, because he -had been a sailor:</p> - -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">Loud roared the dreadful thunder,</div> - <div class="verse indent4">The rain a deluge show’rs;</div> - <div class="verse indent0">The clouds were rent asunder</div> - <div class="verse indent4">By lightning’s vivid pow’rs.</div> - <div class="verse indent8">The night both drear and dark</div> - <div class="verse indent8">Our poor devoted bark,</div> - <div class="verse indent8">Till next day</div> - <div class="verse indent8">There she lay,</div> - <div class="verse indent8">In the Bay of Biscay O!</div> - </div> -</div> - -<p>It was a strange song to sing out here in the midst -of the dry plains; but with Bill booming and his comrades -joining in the chorus it sounded particularly -good.</p> - -<p>The trail was divided off by various names, as city -blocks are divided off by streets. Most of the men -could call the route by heart. There was Salt Creek<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_234"></a>[234]</span> -and Grasshopper Creek and Walnut Creek and Elm -Creek and the Big Blue, and the Big and Little Sandy, -and Ash Point and the Little Blue and Thirty-two Mile -Creek and Sand Hill Pond and the Platte River and -then Fort Kearney, where, 294 miles from Leavenworth, -the main Overland Trail to Denver and Salt -Lake was struck.</p> - -<p>On the Little Blue, before reaching Fort Kearney, -the train had its first accident—and a peculiar accident -that was. Davy first learned of it when, as he came -riding back from an errand for Charley to another -train behind, he saw a wagon at the middle of his train -pull short and heard a shout and saw teamsters, their -teams also halted, go running to the place.</p> - -<p>“What’s the matter? Rattlers?” This was the -first thought—that the teamster had been bitten by a -rattlesnake.</p> - -<p>“No. Somebody run over!”</p> - -<p>The rear half of the train had stopped, of course; -the fore half, after pulling on a little way, also had -stopped. Charley came galloping back, Yank galloped -forward, and so did Davy. The men ahead had -gathered in a group and were carrying something out -from under the wagons. It was Sailor Bill, poor fellow. -He had been riding sitting on the pole of his -wagon behind his wheel yoke, and he must have -dozed, for he had fallen off and the wheels of his -wagon had passed over him.</p> - -<p>“My old lead bulls snorted and jumped like as if<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_235"></a>[235]</span> -they’d stepped on a rattler,” was explaining the teamster -who had shouted and halted his team. “I thought -it <em>was</em> a rattler, of course; but when I looked I saw -<em>him</em>! Right under my second swing team’s hoofs! -But he was done breathing before ever we got to him. -I’m sartin of that. His own wagon did for him; and -mighty quick.”</p> - -<p>“Yes,” they all nodded soberly, “poor Bill like as -not never knew what was happening to him.”</p> - -<p>“Anybody know who his folks are or where?” demanded -Charley.</p> - -<p>Heads were shaken.</p> - -<p>“Never heard him say. He ran away to sea when -he was a kid and never went home again, I reckon.”</p> - -<p>“Well,” uttered Charley, “we’ll do the best we -can.”</p> - -<p>It was a solemn company which with bared heads -stood about the spot where they laid Sailor Bill. A deep -hole was dug beside the trail, and what was left of -Sailor Bill, wrapped in a blanket, was lowered into it. -Charley read a chapter from the Bible, the hole was -filled, and the wagons made a little detour to drive -across the spot and pack the soil so that the coyotes -would not be tempted to dig there.</p> - -<p>“We’ll certainly miss Bill and his ‘Bay of Biscay, -O!’” said the men; and they did.</p> - -<p>Henry Renick was appointed by Charley to Sailor -Bill’s wagon and team, and the train rolled on.</p> - -<p>Fort Kearney was four days, or fifty miles, ahead.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_236"></a>[236]</span> -On the fourth day a great dust, crossing the Leavenworth -trail, made a cloud against the horizon; and -Charley, pointing, remarked to Davy: “There’s the -Platte trail. We’ll be in Kearney to-night.”</p> - -<p>Fort Kearney was located on the south bank of the -Platte River, at the head of a large island thirty miles -long, which was called Grand Island. The military -reservation extended on both sides of the river. The -fort was not nearly so pleasant or so well built as Fort -Leavenworth. The bluffs and the country around -were bare and gray, and the buildings were old frame -buildings, rather tumble-down. The only timber was -on Grand Island, which made a green spot in the landscape.</p> - -<p>Fort Kearney was a division point on the Overland -Trail for Russell, Majors & Waddell. Charley -reported to the company agent here, and the train laid -up for a day to rest and restock with what provisions -were needed. The meat was running short, for buffalo -had been scarce all the way from Leavenworth.</p> - -<p>At Fort Kearney the Leavenworth trail joined the -main trail that came in from Omaha and Nebraska -City. That trail crossed the Platte just above Fort -Kearney, and there met the Leavenworth trail; and as -one they proceeded west up the south bank of the -Platte.</p> - -<p>People at Fort Kearney claimed that on some days -500 wagons passed, headed either west or east. Joel -Badger started in to count the number of teams in<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_237"></a>[237]</span> -sight throughout an hour, but quit tired. And truly, -the scene at old Fort Kearney was a stirring one: the -long lines of white-topped wagons slowly toiling in -from the east and the southeast, and, uniting above the -fort, toiling on out, under their dust cloud, up the -river course into the west.</p> - -<p>Charley did not delay here longer than was absolutely -necessary, and Davy, as well as others in the -train, was glad to be away on the trail again. Yank, -the assistant wagon boss, and Charley, his chief, almost -had a fight, despite the pledge that they had taken, for -Yank had begun drinking in the groggeries of vicious -Dobytown on the edge of the post and was uglier than -usual.</p> - -<p>“You hear what I say,” spoke up Charley loud -enough for everybody else to hear, too. “Any more -of this and you’re discharged without pay. Those are -company orders and you knew it when you signed the -roll.”</p> - -<p>“The company that discharges me without pay I’ve -earned will wish it hadn’t,” snarled Yank.</p> - -<p>“I’ll take the responsibility,” retorted Charley, -angrily. “If you don’t obey company rules you’re -discharged; see? And if I can’t enforce those rules -I’ll discharge myself.”</p> - -<p>Yank said “Bah!” and swaggered off; but he -stayed away from Dobytown.</p> - -<p>Fort Kearney seemed to mark a dividing point of -the country as well as of the great trail. The country<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_238"></a>[238]</span> -from Leavenworth up through Kansas had been -prairie-like, with many wooded streams and considerable -green meadows. But here at the Platte the -greenness dwindled, and the trail wound along amidst -sand and clay which grew chiefly sage brush and buffalo -grass.</p> - -<p>The Platte was a shallow, shifty stream, full of -quicksands, so that drivers must be very careful in -crossing. Charley told of a time when he saw a whole -freight wagon, load and all, sink and disappear in what -looked to be hard sand under only two inches of -water! The trees in sight were for the most part on -the islands in the river, for all timber within easy reach -along the trail had long ago been cut and burned by the -emigrants. Even buffalo chips were very scarce, so -that Charley took pains to camp on the sites of previous -camps, where cattle had left fuel similar to buffalo -chips, although not so good.</p> - -<p>The buffalo chips burned slowly and held the fire -a long time, making splendid coals. The men seemed -to think that this was because they had been lying out -for years, maybe, and were well baked; whereas the -cow chips and the bull chips were newer.</p> - -<p>The Platte was frequently bordered by high clay -bluffs; and where the road climbed or descended the -scene at night was very pretty, with all the camp-fires -of the emigrants and other bull trains sparkling high -and low. The bluffs also were good coverts for Indians; -and Charley ordered that each mess have a man<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_239"></a>[239]</span> -on guard all night. Fort Kearney was considered the -jumping-off place for the Indian country and the buffalo -country. Beyond, the country was, as Charley -said, “wide open.”</p> - -<p>“To-morrow we’ll cross Plum Creek,” quoth Joel -to Davy on the second day out from Kearney. “We -ought to see buffalo at Plum Creek; ’most always do.”</p> - -<p>Plum Creek was 330 miles from Leavenworth and -thirty-six out of Fort Kearney. As they approached -it, Charley and others uttered a glad cry, for buffalo -were in sight by the hundreds. They were grazing on -the hills and flats north of the river. Some emigrants -already were among them, chasing them hither and -thither; so Captain Charley ordered Andy Johnson and -another teamster called “Kentuck” (because he was -from Kentucky) to take Davy’s and Yank’s mules and -go with him after meat.</p> - -<p>That was as quickly done as said. Away the -three spurred through the shallow water and on.</p> - -<p>“We’ll have short ribs and roast hump to-night, -boys,” shouted back Charley. He and Andy and Kentuck -were good hunters.</p> - -<p>This left Yank in charge of the train. He had -not been pleasant since that scene at Kearney, when -he and Charley had the row; just now he was more -irritable and mean, because he had to walk. He -grumbled and snarled, and said a number of unkind -things about Charley which Dave knew were not true.</p> - -<p>“Wants to take the huntin’ himself, that feller<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_240"></a>[240]</span> -does,” grumbled Yank, “an’ leaves us other fellers -to hoof it. Who ever heard of an assistant wagon boss -havin’ to walk? I didn’t hire out to walk, you bet.” -And he yelped out to Joel: “Hurry on your bulls -there, you lead team man. Give ’em the gad or you’ll -get stuck.”</p> - -<p>For the head of the train had reached a sandy hollow, -and Joel’s team were tugging through it. The -sand rolled in a stream from the tires and from half -way up the spokes; but the twelve bulls—the ten -blacks, and the two burly reds forming the pole yoke—were -pulling together nobly.</p> - -<p>“They don’t need it,” returned Joel, shortly. -“They’re doing well. Let ’em alone.”</p> - -<p>“You’ve held the lead so long and done as you -please that you’ve got sassy,” sneered Yank. “You -need a new boss, an’ now you’ve got him, see? I tell -you to hustle those fat pets o’ yourn along an’ give -somebody else a chance in here. Do you call that -pullin’? Which way you movin’? Touch ’em up, my -man; touch ’em up.”</p> - -<p>“I’m driving this team,” answered Joel, roundly, -“and I don’t need advice from any assistant wagon -master as to <em>how</em> to drive. They pull better without -the lash.” And he sung out vigorously: “Buck! -Muley! Hep, now! Hep with you!”</p> - -<p>The wagon moved steadily, ploughing through the -sand and encouraging the teams behind. But Joel’s<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_241"></a>[241]</span> -reply seemed to enrage Yank—who had been waiting -for just such a chance.</p> - -<p>“Oh, gimme that whip!” he snarled, and snatched -it from Joel’s hand. “Get out o’ there with you!” he -yelled. The lash flew hissing; the snapper landed -with a distinct “thut!” on the haunch of the right -lead ox; it jerked smartly back and out-sprang at the -spot where it had struck a rim of blood on the sweaty, -dusty black hide. The whip end had cut through to -the quick!</p> - -<p>As fast as lash could travel (and that was fast -indeed) the other lead ox felt like smart and humiliation. -With frenzied, panting snort and groan the -yoke quivered and strained, setting shoulders forward -and fairly jerking the swing yokes after them. It was -an unnecessary strain and Davy knew it.</p> - -<p>“Whoa-oa-oa, boys!” soothed Joel. “Easy -now!” And turning like a tiger on Yank, who again -was swinging the whip, he knocked him flat on his -back.</p> - -<p>The team went toiling on but Joel stood, panting, -over Yank, and watched him scramble up. Yank’s -hand flew to his revolver butt—and there it stopped; -for when he got that far he was looking into the big -muzzle of Joel’s own Colt’s navy.</p> - -<p>“None o’ that either!” growled Joel, boiling mad. -“Gimme that whip,” and he snatched it back again. -“I’ve a notion to lay it on <em>your</em> back. You call yourself -a man and abuse dumb beasts that are doing the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_242"></a>[242]</span> -best they can and doing it well?” He shook his big -fist in Yank’s evil face, which was turning from the -red of anger to the white of fierce hate. “You touch -my team again and I’ll <em>kill</em> you!” roared Joel. “I -told you they were to be let alone and I mean it. Stick -that in your pipe and smoke it.”</p> - -<p>Yank said nothing. His eye, where Joel’s fist had -thudded, was swollen shut, but out of the other he -glared steadily; and while he did not move a muscle -(he knew better than to move with that revolver -muzzle trained upon him), if a look could have killed, -then Joel would have dropped in his tracks.</p> - -<p>Joel slowly backed away, keeping his Colt’s ready.</p> - -<p>“Remember,” he warned. “Don’t try that again.” -And finally, having backed far enough, beyond the -fringe of men who had gathered, he hastened after -his wagon. Davy’s heart could beat again.</p> - -<p>“Joel was right in this,” proclaimed a teamster. -“You may be assistant wagon boss but even the boss -himself has no business whipping another man’s bulls.” -And as the men resought their wagons heads wagged -and voices murmured in agreement therewith.</p> - -<p>As for Yank, he was growing red again; he cautiously -wiped his injured eye, his hand twitched upon -the butt of his revolver, and picking up his hat he -stumbled forward as if in a dream. The way he acted -was more dangerous, it seemed to Davy, than if he had -stormed and threatened. And Davy was afraid for -Joel.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_243"></a>[243]</span></p> - -<p>The train passed through the sandy hollow without -further mishap; and when they climbed out and pulled -on over the next rise they met the buffalo hunters -returning. The mules’ saddles were red with meat, -and the three riders were well pleased with their hunt.</p> - -<p>The sun was low over the trail before, making -golden the dust of travel.</p> - -<p>“We’ll camp here, boys,” called Charley, cheerfully, -“and do what butchering we need on those buffalo -carcasses. Swing out, Joel. Whew, man! You must -have had to lay on the lash a bit heavy, didn’t you?” -For the haunches of the lead team were bloody welted. -More than that, the cracker seemed to have taken a -piece of hide out the size of a quarter!</p> - -<p>“No,” said Joel, briefly. “I didn’t.”</p> - -<p>“Well,” continued Charley, “let’s corral where we -are. Yank, you—what’s the matter with your eye, -man?”</p> - -<p>“I fell down,” answered Yank, steadily. And at -the laugh which went up he reddened deeply again, -and again his hand twitched.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_244"></a>[244]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="XVII">XVII<br /> -<small>DAVY “THE BULL WHACKER”</small></h2> -</div> - - -<p>Charley scanned him quizzically for a moment.</p> - -<p>“You must have fallen mighty hard,” he remarked. -“Who hit you, Yank?”</p> - -<p>“That lead teamster o’ yours,” growled Yank, with -a string of oaths. “I’ll get him for that. No man can -strike me and stay long on this earth. The dirty -hound!” And he abused Joel horridly.</p> - -<p>Joel heard the loud words, and suddenly leaving his -team where it stood, came walking fast.</p> - -<p>“None of that!” he called. “You keep a quiet -tongue in your head. You can see what he did to my -bulls, Charley. He laid my whip on them. I allow -no man to cut my bulls. I never cut them myself. -They were doing as well as they could.”</p> - -<p>Charley quickly stepped between the two—for the -hand of each was poised for the dart to revolver butt.</p> - -<p>“That’s enough,” he bade. “There’s to be no -fighting in this train and no swearing. You both know -that. Give me your guns. Pass ’em over.”</p> - -<p>“All right, Charley,” answered Joel. “Here are -mine if you say so. I don’t need a gun to deal with -that fellow.” And unbuckling his belt he tossed it -aside.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_245"></a>[245]</span></p> - -<p>“Now it’s up to you, Yank,” addressed Charley.</p> - -<p>Yank flushed.</p> - -<p>“My guns are my own, an’ I’m goin’ to wear ’em -as long as I please,” he blurted.</p> - -<p>“No, you aren’t, Yank,” retorted Charley, coolly. -Looking him in the eye, he walked straight to him. -“You needn’t give them to me; I’ll take them. See?”</p> - -<p>He was a little man, was Charley, but he had a great -heart and the nerve to back it up. Reaching, while -Yank stood uncertain and cowed, he jerked both revolvers -from the holsters; then he stepped back to put -his foot on Joel’s belt.</p> - -<p>“That’s enough,” he said. “I want this matter to -end right here. If you laid whip on another man’s -bulls when there wasn’t any need of it I reckon you got -about what you deserved. We’re not bull skinners in -this train. But I’ll have no fighting in the outfit. You -fellows can settle your differences after you leave. Go -on and finish your corralling, Joel. Yank, you saddle -a fresh mule from the cavvy and ride out and help -Kentuck and Andy butcher those buffalo. Your mule’s -plumb worn out. Hear me?”</p> - -<p>Yank glared at him for a moment, but Charley returned -eye for eye. Presently Yank whirled on his -heel, and snatching the bridle of his mule strode off, -muttering, to the cavvy. Joel went back to his team. -Charley shook the cylinders out of the four revolvers, -dropped them into his pockets, and stowed the useless -weapons in one of the wagons. The train proceeded<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_246"></a>[246]</span> -about the business of the hour, and Davy, whose heart -had been beating high, helped.</p> - -<p>“The ride out yonder will help to cool his blood a -bit,” commented one of the teamsters, referring to -Yank—who, leading Andy and Kentuck, was galloping -furiously away. As for Joel, he was acting as if the -recent trouble was ancient history—except that when -he examined the wounds on his two beloved oxen he -shook his head.</p> - -<p>The teams had been unhitched from the wagons -and were being led aside to water and pasture, when a -sudden shout arose.</p> - -<p>“Look at Yank! Look at him, will you! Where’s -he going?”</p> - -<p>Everybody stared. Leaving Andy and Kentuck -behind, Yank, without slackening pace, was galloping -on and on through the area where the buffalo herd had -been and where the carcasses were lying. Andy and -Kentuck yelled at him, but he paid no heed. And from -the wagon train welled another chorus of cries.</p> - -<p>“He’s taking French leave! He’s deserting!”</p> - -<p>“Let him go, boys,” quoth Charley, coloring, but -making no move. “I’ll send him his guns sometime; -but he’s forfeited his pay. If he wants to have things -that way, good enough. We’re better off without him.”</p> - -<p>The men grunted, satisfied; nobody liked the unruly, -foul-mouthed Yank. Soon he disappeared over -a rise and he was not seen again by Davy for a year.</p> - -<p>The camp that evening seemed much pleasanter<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_247"></a>[247]</span> -without the presence of Yank. With him absent and -with plenty of buffalo meat on hand, the men laughed -and joked to even an unusual extent. It was a carefree -camp.</p> - -<p>“Here are your guns, Joel,” said Charley, returning -them. “Guess I can trust you with them now. -Well, we’re a short train, with two men shy. I’d rather -lose Yank than Sailor Bill; but they’re both gone. -Kentuck, you’re promoted to assistant wagon boss; -and I’ll have to turn your team over to Dave, here. -They’re well broken and I reckon he can drive them. -How about it, Dave?”</p> - -<p>Davy was somewhat flustered. He to be a bull -whacker? Hurrah!</p> - -<p>“I’ll try,” he stammered.</p> - -<p>“Sure you will; and you’ll make good. Fact is, -those bulls drive themselves. But you can learn a heap, -anyway. All right. You take Kentuck’s outfit in the -morning and go ahead. The boys will help you if you -get in trouble. I can’t spare Joel; he’s too good a man -in the lead, and we need him there.”</p> - -<p>That night Davy could scarcely go to sleep. He -was excited. He wondered if he really could “make -good” as a bull whacker. He had practised with the -whip and could “throw” it pretty well, although it -was a long lash for a boy. But he had found out that -to wield a bull whip and “pop” it required a certain -knack rather than mere strength; and, besides, the bull -teams behind kept up with the wagons before as a<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_248"></a>[248]</span> -matter of habit. Of course, corralling and yoking were -the chief difficulties. But he had watched closely what -the men did every day, and he thought that he <em>knew</em> -how, at least. At any rate, he was bound to try. To -handle twelve oxen seemed to him a bigger job than -being a messenger.</p> - -<p>It was a proud Dave who, early in the morning, -after breakfast, at the cry “Catch up, men! Catch -up!” shouldered his yoke and the two bows, and -sturdily trotted for the corral. He knew how to begin. -The proper method was to lay the heavy yoke across -one shoulder with the bows hanging from your arm. -One pin was carried in your mouth, the other in your -hand. The ends of the bows passed up through the -yoke, so that only one end needed a pin thrust through -above the yoke to hold it; the other end stayed of itself.</p> - -<p>Davy felt that the men were watching him out of -the corners of their eyes. He heard somebody say, -aside, bantering: “Look out, boys, or that kid will -beat us!” Of course he could not do <em>that</em>! Not yet. -But Charley called to him from the forward gap, -where somebody must stand to keep the cattle in: -“The wheel team first, Dave. You know them, do -you? A pair of big roans.”</p> - -<p>Davy nodded. He remembered them; he had -marked them well by a good scrutiny when the herd -was being driven in from pasture.</p> - -<p>“All right,” said Charley. “You’ll find them together. -The whole bunch ought to be together.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_249"></a>[249]</span></p> - -<p>The corral was crowded with oxen and men, and -appeared a mass of confusion; but there was little confusion, -for by this time the oxen and the men all knew -their business. Davy pushed his way straight to the -two big roans (the largest and stoutest bulls always -were chosen for the wheel team, because they must -hold up the heavy pole and also must stand up to the -weight of the wagon down hill), and in approved -fashion laid the yoke across the neck of one.</p> - -<p>“Be sure you yoke ’em like they’re used to travellin’, -lad,” warned a kind teamster. “The near and -the off bull, or you’ll have trouble.”</p> - -<p>Davy nodded again. He had noted this also. The -“near” bull meant the bull that was yoked to stand -on the left; the “off” bull was the right-hand one. -The near bull of this team had a short horn, he remembered. -He slipped the bow under the near bull’s neck, -and standing on the outside, or left, inserted the ends -of the bow up through the yoke and slipped the pin -in to hold it. Then he hustled around to the opposite -side of the “off” bull, who was standing close to his -mate, shoved him about (“Get ’round there, you!” -ordered Davy, gruffly), and reaching for the yoke -lifted it across, adjusted the bow (from the outside), -slipped in the pin from his mouth—and there he had -his wheel pair yoked together!</p> - -<p>Now proud indeed, he led his yoke out through the -other bulls to his wagon. They took position on either -side of the pole, although they seemed a little puzzled<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_250"></a>[250]</span> -by the change in manager. Now it only remained to -lift the pole and put the end through the ring riveted -to extend below the middle of the yoke.</p> - -<p>“Lead team next,” said Davy, wisely, to himself, -leaving his wheel team and hurrying to shoulder another -yoke and its bows and re-enter the wagon corral.</p> - -<p>Every man was supposed to know his twelve bulls -as a father knows his children. Davy’s lead team were -spotted fellows, with long black horns. He went -straight to them where they stood, waiting; yoked them -masterfully and led them, too, out to the wagon. He -put them in position, and with the four other yokes -built his whole team—starting from the rear. The -train was ready and watching, but not impatient. The -men gave him time.</p> - -<p>From the middle of each yoke the massive log -chain by which they pulled ran between them back to -the yoke of the pair behind—save that the wheel team -pulled by the tongue and had no chain. Davy worked -hard to hook the chains. A man stepped forward to -help him; but Charley called promptly:</p> - -<p>“Let him alone, boys. He’s doing well. He’ll get -the hang of it. Every man to his own team, you -know.”</p> - -<p>And Davy was glad.</p> - -<p>“All set,” he announced shrilly, for his team were -hooked at last.</p> - -<p>“All set,” repeated Charley. “Line out, boys.”</p> - -<p>To brisk shout from Joel and crack of his whip the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_251"></a>[251]</span> -lead team straightened their chains and the wagon -moved ahead. One after another the other wagons -followed; and Davy’s team fell into place almost before -he had “popped” his whip and had joined in the cries:</p> - -<p>“Haw, Buck! Hep! Hep with you!”</p> - -<p>The train retook the trail, Davy trudging like any -other bull whacker on the left side of his wheel yoke, -his whip over his shoulder, his hat shoved back from -his perspiring forehead. He doubted if even Billy -Cody could have done better; and he wished that Billy -might see him.</p> - -<p>Ever the trail unfolded on and on, sometimes skirting -the shallow Platte, sometimes diverging a little to -seek easier route. It traversed a country very unattractive, -broken by the clayey buttes and by deep -washes, and running off into wide, sandy plateaus and -bottoms, rife with jack-rabbits, coyotes, prairie-dogs, -antelope, and occasional buffalo. The rattlesnakes -were a great nuisance; the men killed them with the -whip lashes by neatly cutting off their heads as they -coiled or sometimes shot them. And almost every -morning somebody complained of a snake creeping -into his warm blanket.</p> - -<p>The processions of emigrants continued as thick -as ever, bound for “Pike’s Peak,” for Salt Lake, California -and Oregon. Each day the stage for Denver -and the stage for Leavenworth passed, dusty and hurrying; -and now was given a glimpse, once in two -weeks, of the Hockaday & Liggett stages, which travelled<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_252"></a>[252]</span> -twice a month between St. Joseph, above Leavenworth, -and Salt Lake City. Occasionally Indians—Cheyennes, -Arapahoes, Pawnees and Sioux—came into -the camps begging for “soog” and “cof” and -“tobac.”</p> - -<p>Davy enjoyed every mile and he did splendidly. -He enjoyed even the never-varying diet of “sowbelly” -(salt pork), baked beans, hot bread, and sugarless, -milkless coffee, eked out by buffalo meat and antelope -meat when they could get it. Some of the men tried -prairie-dogs—which weren’t so bad as they sound, -tasting and looking like chicken or rabbit. The main -difficulty was to get them after they had been shot, -for they almost always managed to tumble into their -holes. Then, when anybody put a hand in to drag -them out, it was met by the angry whirr of a rattle-snake. -A rattle-snake and a little owl seemed to live -in each hole along with the prairie-dog family!</p> - -<p>There were storms, coming up with startling suddenness. -One storm, at Cottonwood Springs a hundred -miles west of Kearney, Davy never forgot. It -was a hail storm. First a mighty cloud of deep purple -shot through with violet lightning, swelled over the -trail in the west. Emigrants scuttled to secure their -wagons, and at Charley’s sharp commands so did the -bull train.</p> - -<p>“It looks like a twister, boys,” shouted Charley, -riding back along the train. “Better corral. I’m -afraid for these bulls.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_253"></a>[253]</span></p> - -<p>So the train corralled in a jiffy; and, unyoked, the -bulls were driven inside. The tongues were hung in -the draw ropes of the wagon covers and the wheels -were chained, wagon to wagon. Slickers were jerked -out from the wagons and donned; and the men prepared -to crawl under the wagon boxes if necessary.</p> - -<p>With angry mutter and swollen shape the purple -cloud came on at a tremendous pace. The spin-drift -of it caught the plain far ahead, and one after another -the trains of the emigrants were swallowed in the -blackness. When the first gust struck the bull train -the touch was icy cold.</p> - -<p>“Hail, boys! Hail!” shouted Charley. “Watch -the bulls!”</p> - -<p>Now sounded a clatter like rain on a sheet-iron -roof; and across the landscape of sand and clay, and a -cottonwood grove at the mouth of the creek, swept a -line of white. The men dived for cover like prairie-dogs -whisking into their holes.</p> - -<p>Yes, it was hail! Such hail! Driven by a gale -the stones, some as large as hickorynuts, and all as -large as filberts, lashed the huddled train; whanged -against canvas and wagon-box and with dull thuds -bounded from the bulls’ backs. Some of the animals -shifted uneasily, for the stones stung. The others -stood groaning and grunting with discomfort, shaking -their heads when a particularly vicious missile landed -on an ear. Under the wagons the men were secure;<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_254"></a>[254]</span> -but Dave felt sorry for the poor bulls who turned and -sought in vain.</p> - -<p>As quickly as it had come the storm passed, leaving -the ground white with the hail. Almost before the -men had crawled out from underneath their wagons -the sun was shining.</p> - -<p>The hail had not damaged the bull train to any extent. -There were dents in the tough wood where the -heavy stones had struck, and several of the wagon -sheets, forming the hoods, had been punctured in weak -spots; but thanks to Charley’s promptness in corralling, -the animals had not stampeded. However, some -of the emigrants had not fared so well, because they -had not known what to do. After the bull train was -yoked up again and was travelling on, it passed two -emigrant outfits stalled by the trail, trying to recover -their teams which had run away. Many of the flimsy -cotton hoods used by the emigrants were riddled into -strips.</p> - -<p>The Overland Trail followed up the south side of -the Platte, the same way by which Dave had come -down with the Lew Simpson train a year before, after -the fight in the mule fort. Where the North Platte and -the South Platte joined current it continued on up the -South Platte—and now to the north a short distance -was the place where the mule fort had been located so -hastily by Billy Cody and Lew and George Woods.</p> - -<p>Soon the main trail for Salt Lake and California -forded the South Platte to cross the narrow point of<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_255"></a>[255]</span> -land for Ash Hollow at the North Platte and for -Laramie and Salt Lake City. But the Denver branch -proceeded on into the west by the newer trail to the -mountains and Denver.</p> - -<p>This branch of the Overland Trail down to Denver -was only six months old, but already it was a well-worn -trail, scored deep by the stages and by the thousands -of emigrants and the constant freight outfits. -The travel eastward, toward the States, was almost as -great now as that westbound, for fall had come and -everybody who was intending to return to the States -had started so as to get there before winter. A winter -journey by wagon across these plains was no fun.</p> - -<p>After the parting of the trail, the next station on -the route was Jules’ Ranch. Jules was an old French-Indian -trapper and trader, whose full name (as he -claimed) was Jules Beni. His mother was a Cheyenne -Indian, and Jules had built a trading post here, a -mile beyond Lodgepole Creek, for trade with the -Cheyennes. Now Jules had turned his attention to -the new business that had opened, and he was selling -flour to the Pike’s Peak “pilgrims” at a dollar a -pound. He had been smart enough to break a new -trail that would bring the travel between the North -and the South Platte past his place—for the regular -crossing was east of him. He was smart, was Old -Jules, and now he had just been made stage agent.</p> - -<p>“I want all you fellows to keep clear of Old Jules,” -cautioned Charley, as the train approached what some<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_256"></a>[256]</span> -of the men jokingly called “Julesburg.” “I’ve never -seen him when he wasn’t drunk and he’s a corker for -losing his temper and picking fights. Then he wants to -kill somebody. When he’s in liquor he’s plumb crazy. -He’s shot two men and carries their ears in his pocket. -I’m not afraid of him, and neither are you; but to-morrow’s -Sunday and we’ll tie up near his place, and -I don’t want trouble.”</p> - -<p>“Why don’t you pull right through, Charley?” -asked Andy Johnson, as a spokesman. “We’re agreeable. -‘Dirty Jules’ is no great attraction.”</p> - -<p>“Well,” said Charley, “we usually do ease off on -Sunday, and it’s company orders and I don’t propose -to change the programme at this stage of the game.”</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_257"></a>[257]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="XVIII">XVIII<br /> -<small>BILLY CODY TURNS UP AGAIN</small></h2> -</div> - - -<p>The Russell, Majors & Waddell bull trains were -under instructions to lie by over Sunday whenever -possible. By some people this was accounted a waste -of time. However, Mr. Majors especially insisted that -Sunday should be Sunday wherever it fell, in town or -on the danger trail. One day in seven might well be -spent in rest even with a bull train. It brought the -men and cattle through in better shape, and was a gain -that way instead of any loss.</p> - -<p>So that evening the wagon train corralled near -the Platte River crossing, where the Salt Lake Trail -turned north, about half a mile east from Jules’ -Ranch. The river was a great convenience, for on -Sunday the men usually tried to slick up by bathing -and washing their clothing and tidying generally. -Therefore, after breakfast the brush near the river -bank was soon displaying shirts and handkerchiefs of -red and blue, and sundry pairs of socks, spread out to -dry, while their owners sat around and fought mosquitoes -and watched the wagon outfits. Some of -these forded the river for Salt Lake, Oregon or California, -but most of them kept on up the Denver -branch.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_258"></a>[258]</span></p> - -<p>This was interrupted by a distant hullabaloo—a -yelling and cheering mingled. The air was thin and -still and very clear, so that sound and eyesight carried -far through it. The hullabaloo evidently came from -Jules’ Ranch, where at the group of buildings a crowd -of people had gathered. Davy’s shirt was dry, and he -reached for it.</p> - -<p>“Must be having a celebration over yonder,” -drawled Kentuck. “Reckon I’ll go see.”</p> - -<p>He donned his red shirt and started. Several -others made ready to go; and Davy, as curious as anybody, -decided that he would go, too. So, wriggling -into his clothes, whether they were dry or not, he followed -along up the trail to Jules’ place.</p> - -<p>The ranch was a small collection of adobe or sun-baked -clay buildings, and a log shack which was the -store. The main excitement was centred in front of -the store. The crowd had formed a circle at a respectful -distance. They were emigrants and a few of the -Charley Martin bull train.</p> - -<p>“What’s the row?” queried Kentuck of a man at -his elbow.</p> - -<p>“’Pears like this fellow Jules is having a leetle time -with himself,” answered the man. “I ’low he’s crazy. -He’s got whiskey and flour out thar on the ground and -says he’s mixing mortar. It’s a good place for the -whiskey, but it’s an awful waste of flour.”</p> - -<p>Edging through the circle, Davy peered to see. A -dirty, darkly sallow visaged, hairy man, in soiled shirt,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_259"></a>[259]</span> -and trousers sagging from their belt, was capering and -screeching, and hoeing at a white mass which might -have been real mortar. But the smell of whiskey was -strong in the air, and there stood a barrel of it with -the head knocked in. The white stuff was flour, for, -as Davy looked, the capering hairy man grabbed a sack, -tore it open and emptied it on the pile.</p> - -<p>“I show you how I mek one gr-r-rand mortarr,” he -proclaimed. “Flour at one dollar ze pound, whiskey -at ten dollars ze quart; zat ze way ol’ Jules mek -gr-r-rand mortarr. Wow! Hooray! If anybody -teenk he mek one better mortarr, I cut off hees -ears. Dees my country; I do as I please.” And he -hoed vigorously at his “mortar bed,” and screeched -and capered and threatened and boasted and made a -fool of himself.</p> - -<p>Some of the crowd laughed and applauded; but -the majority were disgusted. To Davy it seemed a -great pity that any human being should so lose all control -of himself and be less human than an ape. He -speedily tired of this silly exhibition by Jules, the -store-keeper, and turned away for fresh air. He and -Charley, the wagon boss, emerged from the crowd -together.</p> - -<p>“Old Jules is spoiling his own business, I reckon,” -observed Charley. “How any man can watch that in -there and ever taste whiskey again is more than I -know. To see him make a fool of himself is better than -signing a pledge.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_260"></a>[260]</span></p> - -<p>The crowd rapidly wearied of this drunken Jules -and his antics and dwindled away. As for Davy, he -had decided to take a walk to the mouth of Lodgepole -Creek, up the river a short distance. Lodgepole Creek -emptied in on the opposite side of the Platte, and was -named because the Cheyennes used to gather their -lodge poles along it.</p> - -<p>The Platte flowed shallow and wide, with many -sand bars and ripples, and many deepish holes where -the water eddied rapidly. The banks were fringed -with willows not very high. From a rise in the trail -Dave, trudging stanchly in his heavy dusty boots, -beheld an object, far up the channel, beyond the willow -tops, floating down.</p> - -<p>It was a large object flat to the water, and as he -peered he saw a flash as from an oar-blade. A boat! -No—too large and low for a boat. It must be a raft -with somebody aboard. Davy waited, inquisitive; for -craft floating on the Platte were a curiosity. The -upper river was too shallow, especially at this time of -the year.</p> - -<p>The raft came on gallantly and swiftly. It carried -three persons and their outfit. The crew were standing -up: one of them steering, behind, and one at either -edge, with oars, was helping to fend off from the bars. -It looked like an easy mode of travel, and Davy prepared -to stand out and give the voyagers a cheer.</p> - -<p>But just before the raft arrived opposite, going -finely, it appeared to hang on a snag or else strike a<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_261"></a>[261]</span> -sudden eddy; or perhaps it did both at once; nobody -could tell. Under Davy’s astonished eyes it stopped -for a moment in mid-stream; the crew wildly dug with -their oars and fell to their hands and knees; whirling -around and around the platform fairly melted away -underneath them, leaving only three black dots on the -surface of the water. These were heads!</p> - -<p>Waking to the situation, Davy waved and shouted; -the swimmers may have seen him, he thought, because -they were making for his side. The current bore them -along, as sometimes they swam and sometimes they -waded; and he kept pace to encourage. As the foremost -neared the bank, Davy rushed down and waded -in to meet him and help him ashore. He wasn’t a very -large person—that drenched figure floundering and -splashing for safety; he wasn’t large at all; and extending -a hand, to give him a boost, Davy gasped, only -half believing:</p> - -<p>“<a href="#i_fp260">Why—hello, Billy!</a> Gee whiz! <a href="#i_fp260">Is that you?</a>”</p> - -<div class="figcenter" id="i_fp260"> - <img src="images/i_fp260.jpg" alt="" title="" /> - <div class="caption"> - <p class="noic"><a href="#Page_261">“WHY—HELLO, BILLY! IS THAT YOU?”</a></p> - </div> -</div> - -<p>“Hello, Dave,” answered Billy Cody, muddy and -dripping, but calmly shaking Dave’s hand. “I guess it -must be. Where are Hi and Jim?” And he turned -quickly to scan the river. “Good. They’re coming. -I knew they could swim. They can swim better than -I, so I reckoned I’d get ashore as soon as I could. -What are you doing here and where are you bound -for?”</p> - -<p>“I’m bull whacking for Russell, Majors & Waddell<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_262"></a>[262]</span> -from Leavenworth to Denver,” informed Davy, -proudly. “Where are you bound for?”</p> - -<p>“Back to the river.” And by “the river” Davy -knew that Billy meant the Missouri. “We didn’t have -any luck in the diggin’s, so we thought we’d float home -down the Platte to the Missouri and down the Missouri -to Leavenworth. Well, we got this far, anyhow.”</p> - -<p>“Jiminy crickets!” shouted Hi, now plashing in. -“If here isn’t Dave waiting for us! Did you come all -the way from Leavenworth to meet us, Dave?”</p> - -<p>And there was a great shaking of hands.</p> - -<p>“I dunno what the dickens happened to us out -there,” volunteered Jim, gazing at the river suspiciously. -“One moment we were just sailing along and -next moment we were swimming. No more sailoring -for me; I’d rather walk with a bull team. Here we’ve -lost our whole outfit and we’re going home from the -diggin’s ‘busted’ flat.”</p> - -<p>“We didn’t have much to lose; that’s one comfort,” -said Billy. “Think how bad we’d be feeling if -we’d struck it rich up in the mountains and every ounce -was now at the bottom of the Platte! Huh! We’ve -had our fun, anyhow. Who’s your wagon boss, -Dave?”</p> - -<p>“Charley Martin.”</p> - -<p>“Where are you camped?”</p> - -<p>“At the Platte crossing, just below Jules’.”</p> - -<p>“All right,” quoth Billy, cheerily. “Come on, boys.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_263"></a>[263]</span> -I’m going down to the camp and see what I can get, -and Charley’ll grub-stake us home.”</p> - -<p>They had clambered up the bank into the dryness, -and now they continued down the trail—Billy and Hi -and Jim clumping and squashing, Davy tramping sturdily -in his teamster costume of flannel shirt and trousers -tucked into big boots.</p> - -<p>“So you’re a sure-’nough bull whacker, are you?” -asked Hi of Davy, with a grin.</p> - -<p>“I was hired just as an ‘extra’ for carrying messages, -you know,” said Davy, to be both honest and -modest. “But we ran short of men so Charley put me -at whacking. I can sling a whip some; that is, pretty -good. The bulls are trained, anyway.”</p> - -<p>“When did you begin?” asked Billy.</p> - -<p>“Back at Plum Creek.”</p> - -<p>“If you’ve held your job this far, then, I guess you -can hold it as long as you like. Bully for you, Red.” -And at Billy’s generous praise Davy blushed.</p> - -<p>The excitement at Jules’ trading store had quieted -and only the mess of whiskey-sodden flour remained. -Billy and Jim paid scant attention to this, except that -they, too, were disgusted when they heard what old -Jules had been up to. They were more intent upon -getting to the wagon train camp. And here Charley -Martin and the whole outfit, in fact, received them with -a great ado. Everybody in the train seemed to know -Billy, and almost everybody knew Hi and Jim.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_264"></a>[264]</span></p> - -<p>There was a stranger to Davy in camp. He had -arrived in a light buggy drawn by a strong, spirited -team of black horses, and was chatting with Charley. -His name proved to be B. F. Ficklin—“Ben” Ficklin. -He shook hands with Billy, and Billy introduced Dave.</p> - -<p>“Mr. Ficklin, this is my friend Dave Scott, -youngest bull whacker on the plains.”</p> - -<p>“You want to watch out or he’ll catch up with you, -Billy,” bantered Mr. Ficklin.</p> - -<p>“I shouldn’t wonder,” answered Billy, carelessly. -“But I’ve got a head start over him. I’m a prairie -sailor sure now, and navigation on the Platte is -closed!”</p> - -<p>Not only in sailing on the Platte, but in many other -feats Dave never did catch up with Billy Cody.</p> - -<p>Mr. Ficklin was the general superintendent of the -Russell, Majors & Waddell freighting and staging business. -He bore the news that the company had taken -over the stage outfit of Hockaday & Liggett, which -ran twice a month from St. Joseph on the Missouri to -Salt Lake on the Platte River Overland Route, and -were going to combine the Leavenworth & Pike’s Peak -Express with it. He himself was on his way from -Denver, back down the trail to inspect the condition -of the stations from the Platte crossing to the Missouri.</p> - -<p>“We’re going to make this stage line a hummer, -boys,” he informed. “Hockaday & Liggett have been<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_265"></a>[265]</span> -running two times a month on a schedule of twenty-one -days to Salt Lake; no stations, and same team without -change for several hundreds of miles at a stretch. -The company are putting in stations every ten and -fifteen miles all along the Overland route from the -river to Salt Lake, and stocking them with provisions -and fodder. We’re buying the best Kentucky mules that -we can find and ordering more Concord coaches; and -we’re going to put a coach through every day in the -year, from the Missouri to Salt Lake, on a ten-day -schedule, by the Salt Lake Overland Trail to the crossing -here, then north to Laramie and over the South -Pass. A stage will be sent down to Denver, too.”</p> - -<p>Mr. Ficklin evidently was an enthusiast. Davy had -heard of him—a hard worker and a booster for the -company that he loved.</p> - -<p>“What’s ever become of the scheme of yours and -that California senator, Gwin, to put a fast mail service -through, horseback, from St. Louis to San Francisco, -by the Overland route, at $500 for each round trip,” -asked Joel of Mr. Ficklin.</p> - -<p>“Nothing yet. Senator Gwin was right for it after -our talk on the stage from California five years ago, -and he introduced a bill in Congress; but the bill died. -The California people are howling, though, for something -better than news three weeks to six weeks old -from the East. And mark my words,” continued Mr. -Ficklin, earnestly, “that’s what will happen next—a<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_266"></a>[266]</span> -pony express from the Missouri to the coast that will -beat the stage.”</p> - -<p>“Do you think they’ll stretch a line of relays clear -across for two thousand miles and keep it going day -and night passing the mail along?” demanded Billy, -his eyes sparkling at the fancy.</p> - -<p>“Yes, sir,” answered Mr. Ficklin, shortly.</p> - -<p>“Well, when they do I want to ride one of the -runs—one that will keep me hopping, too,” declared -Billy.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_267"></a>[267]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="XIX">XIX<br /> -<small>DAVY MAKES ANOTHER CHANGE</small></h2> -</div> - - -<p>“Did you see my mother when you were back East, -Dave?” asked Billy.</p> - -<p>“Yes.”</p> - -<p>“How’s she looking?”</p> - -<p>“Not extra good, Billy. She’s not very well, and -she said if I came across you to tell you she’d like to -see you as soon as she could.”</p> - -<p>“How are the girls?”</p> - -<p>“They’re all right.”</p> - -<p>“I’m sorry about ma,” mused Billy, soberly. “If -she’s poorly I’m going home as straight as I can -travel, you can bet on that.”</p> - -<p>“We can give you a job with the bull train, Billy,” -proffered Charley Martin. “We’re short of men.”</p> - -<p>But Billy shook his head.</p> - -<p>“No, sir. I’m due at the Cody place in Salt Creek -Valley.”</p> - -<p>“Well, Billy, in that case I’ll pass you through on -the next stage, if there’s room,” volunteered Mr. -Ficklin.</p> - -<p>“I can hang on somewhere,” asserted Billy. “The -pass is the main thing. Never mind the room.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_268"></a>[268]</span></p> - -<p>While they all were talking a new arrival halted -near. It was an army ambulance—a wagon with black -leather top, seats running around the inside, and four -big black army mules as the team. It was bound west. -A soldier in dusty blue uniform was the driver, and a -corporal of infantry sat beside him, between his knees -a Sharp’s carbine. From the rear of the ambulance -another soldier briskly piled out. By his shoulder -straps and the white stripes down his trouser-seams he -was an officer; by the double bars on his shoulder -straps a captain. He wore a revolver in holster.</p> - -<p>He walked over to the group and nodded.</p> - -<p>“Hello, Ben.”</p> - -<p>“How are you, captain.” And Mr. Ficklin arose -to shake hands.</p> - -<p>“Gentlemen,” continued Mr. Ficklin, “I want to -introduce Captain Brown.”</p> - -<p>“I believe I know the captain,” spoke Charley, also -shaking hands.</p> - -<p>“Hello, Billy,” addressed the captain, catching -sight of him. “What’s the matter? Been swimming?”</p> - -<p>“Yes,” laughed Billy. “The water’s a little cold -up in the mountains, so I took my annual down here.”</p> - -<p>“Billy’s been at the diggin’s, captain,” vouchsafed -Mr. Ficklin. “He brought down so much gold in his -hide that he couldn’t travel till he’d washed it out.”</p> - -<p>Billy took their joking good-naturedly. That he<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_269"></a>[269]</span> -was going home “broke” had not discouraged him at -all.</p> - -<p>“I know one thing, gentlemen,” he declared. “I’m -not a miner, but I had to learn. The plains for me after -this. You’ll find me bobbing up again.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, you can’t keep Billy Cody down, that’s a -fact,” agreed Mr. Ficklin. “Where are you bound, -captain? Denver?”</p> - -<p>“No, sir. Laramie. I’ve just come through from -Omaha. I hear you fellows are putting on a daily -stage to Salt Lake to connect there with the line for -San Francisco.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, sir. It’ll be running this month, and it’ll -be a hummer. I’m on my way to inspect the stations -now.”</p> - -<p>“This is my friend Dave Scott, captain,” introduced -Billy, in his generous way. “He’s the youngest -bull whacker on the trail.”</p> - -<p>“He must be a pretty close second to you, then, -Billy,” remarked Captain Brown, extending his hand -to Davy, who, as usual, felt embarrassed. “You -started in rather young yourself!” The captain (who -was a tanned, stoutly-built man, with short russet beard -and keen hazel eyes) scanned Davy sharply. He -scratched his head. “I don’t see why I can’t get hold -of a boy like you or Billy,” he said. “I prefer red-headed -boys. I was red-headed myself once, before -the Indians scared my hair off.”</p> - -<p>“You’re a bit red-headed now, captain,” slyly asserted<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_270"></a>[270]</span> -Charley; for the captain’s bald pate certainly -was well burned by the sun.</p> - -<p>“Well, I <em>feel</em> red-headed, too,” retorted the captain. -“So would you if every time you got a clerk he -deserted to the gold fields. Lend me this boy, will you, -Martin? He’s in your train, isn’t he? I’ll take him on -up to Laramie with me and give him a good job in the -quartermaster’s department. There’s a place there -for somebody just about his size, boots and all.” And -the captain, who evidently had taken a fancy to the -sturdy Dave, smiled at him.</p> - -<p>All of a sudden Davy wanted to go. He had heard -of Fort Laramie, that important headquarters post on -the North Platte in western Nebraska (which is to-day -Wyoming) near the mountains, and he wanted to see -it. Billy had been there several times with the bull -trains out of Leavenworth, and had told him about it.</p> - -<p>“I’d like to oblige you, captain,” answered Charley. -“But we’re short handed this trip, and Davy’s a valuable -man. He’s making quite a bull whacker. Besides, -I reckon he’s counting on going to school this -winter in Leavenworth; aren’t you, Davy?”</p> - -<p>Davy nodded.</p> - -<p>“I thought I’d better,” he said. “That’s one -reason I left Denver.”</p> - -<p>“He can go to school at Laramie,” asserted the -captain quickly. “We have a school for the post children -there, and it’s a good one.”</p> - -<p>Davy listened eagerly, and it was plain to be seen<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_271"></a>[271]</span> -how <em>he</em> was inclined. Denver meant only a short stay, -for Charley was anxious to start back again before -winter closed in on the plains, and there might not be -any chance to see Mr. Baxter, after all. Laramie -sounded good.</p> - -<p>“Oh, shucks!” blurted Jim. “If you want to let -Dave out, Charley, I’d as lief go on to Denver and -finish with you.”</p> - -<p>“So would I,” added Hi.</p> - -<p>“How about it, Dave?” queried Charley. “Is it -Denver or Leavenworth, or Laramie, for you?”</p> - -<p>“I’d like to try Laramie first-rate but I don’t want -to quit the train unless you say so,” answered Dave, -honestly. “I hired out for the trip, and Mr. Russell -and Mr. Majors expect me to go through.”</p> - -<p>“Mr. Majors knows me and so does Billy Russell,” -put in the captain. “I’ll write Majors a letter -and give him a receipt for one red-headed boy, with -guarantee of good treatment. I tell you, Martin, the -United States has need for one red-headed boy, name -of Dave, in the quartermaster service at Fort Laramie; -and I believe I’ll have to send a detail out on the trail -and seize him by force of arms.” The captain, of -course, was joking, but he also seemed in earnest. “If -he’s employed by Russell, Majors & Waddell that’s -recommendation enough, and I want him all the more.”</p> - -<p>Charley laughed.</p> - -<p>“Oh, in that case, and if he wants to go, I suppose -I’ll have to let him, and take Jim and Hi on in his<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_272"></a>[272]</span> -place. They two ought to be able to fill his job. If -you say so, Dave, I’ll give you your discharge right -away, and a voucher for your pay to date, and you -can see how you like the army for a change.”</p> - -<p>“Go ahead, Red,” bade Billy. “You’ll learn a heap, -and I’ll be out that way myself soon. First thing you -know you’ll see me coming through driving stage or -riding that pony express. Whoop-la!”</p> - -<p>And of this Davy did not have the slightest doubt.</p> - -<p>Captain Brown declined an invitation to stay for -dinner with the mess. He was in a hurry. So the -exchange of Davy from bull whacking to Government -service was quickly made. Before he was an hour -older he had shaken hands with everybody within -reach and was trundling northward in the black covered -ambulance beside Captain Brown. He knew that -in another hour or two Billy himself would be travelling -east, back to Salt Creek Valley and Leavenworth; -and that early in the morning the bull train, with -Charley and Joel and Kentuck and Hi and Jim and -all, would be travelling west for the end of the trail -at Denver.</p> - -<p>This was just like the busy West in those days; -friends were constantly mingling and parting, each on -active business—to meet again a little later and report -what they had been doing in the progress of the big -country.</p> - -<p>“You’re too young to follow bull whacking, my -boy,” declared the captain. “It’s a rough life and a<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_273"></a>[273]</span> -hard one. To earn your own way and know how to -hold up your end and take care of yourself is all very -well; but you’d better mix in with it the education of -books and cultured people as much as you can while -you go along. Then you’ll grow up an all-round man -instead of a one-sided man. Laramie’s a long way -from the States; but we’ve got a small post school and -a few books, and it’s the home of a lot of cultured men -and women. You’ll learn things there that you’ll never -learn roughing it on the trail.”</p> - -<p>And Davy looked forward to life at old Fort Laramie, -the famous army post and freight and emigrant -station on the Overland Trail to Salt Lake, Oregon and -California.</p> - -<p>The fording of the Platte was made in quick time -to foil the quicksands. The North Platte was now -scarce eighteen miles across the narrow tongue of land -separating the two rivers above their juncture. It was -struck at Ash Hollow. Ash Hollow had a grocery store -for emigrant trade. The sign read “BUTTE, -REGGS, FLOWER and MELE.”</p> - -<p>Captain Brown halted here long enough to buy a -few crackers and some sardines.</p> - -<p>“Thought we’d stock up while we can,” he explained -to Dave. “These and what buffalo meat we -have will carry us quite a way. Laramie’s one hundred -and sixty miles, and I’m going to push right -through.”</p> - -<p>The four stout mules ambled briskly at a good eight<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_274"></a>[274]</span> -miles an hour, following the trail into the west, up the -south bank of the river. The trail was broad and -plain, but it was not so crowded with emigrants as it -had been before the Pike’s Peak portion of it had -branched off. However, there still were emigrants; -and there were many bull trains bound out for Laramie -and Fort Bridger and Salt Lake, for this was the main -Overland Trail, dating back fifty years.</p> - -<p>The ambulance rolled on without slackening, except -for sand or short rises, until after sunset. Then -the captain gave the word to stop. By this time he -knew Dave’s history, and Davy was liking him immensely. -They clambered stiffly out. The driver and -corporal unhitched the mules: and while the corporal -made a fire for coffee, the driver (who was a private) -put the mules out to graze.</p> - -<p>“We’ll take four hours, Mike,” said the captain -to the corporal. “Then we’ll make another spurt until -daylight.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, sir,” answered the corporal, saluting.</p> - -<p>“You’d do well to crawl in the wagon and sleep, -after supper, Dave,” advised the captain to Davy. -“We’ll be travelling the rest of the night. Can you -stand it?”</p> - -<p>Davy laughed. A great question, that, to ask of a -boy who’d just been a bull whacker walking across the -plains!</p> - -<p>Nevertheless, Davy took a nap in the bottom of the -ambulance; and more than a nap. When he awakened,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_275"></a>[275]</span> -he had been aroused by the jolting of his bed. A buffalo -robe had been thrown over him, the captain was -sitting in a corner snugly wrapped, and by the light -of a half moon the ambulance was again upon its way.</p> - -<p>In the morning, when they once more halted to rest -and feed the mules, the country was considerably -rougher, with hills and fantastic rocks breaking the -sagy, gravelly landscape. The white-topped wagons -of emigrants and the smoke of their camp-fires were -in sight, before and behind; and not far ahead a bull -outfit were driving their bulls into the wagon corral -to yoke up for the day’s trail.</p> - -<p>Breakfast was coffee and buffalo meat; but Corporal -Mike mounted one of the mules and rode off the -trail. When he returned he had some sage chickens -and an antelope. The sides of the ambulance had been -rolled up; and about noon, pointing ahead the captain -remarked to Davy:</p> - -<p>“That’s Laramie Peak, beyond the post. We’ve -got only about eighty miles to go and we’ll be in bright -and early.”</p> - -<p>The landmark of Laramie Peak, of the Black Hills -Range of the Rocky Mountains, remained in sight all -day, slowly standing higher. The sun set behind it. -Davy snoozed in the bottom of the ambulance. The -captain had spoken truth, for shortly after sunrise -they sighted the flag streaming over Fort Laramie.</p> - -<p>Old Fort Laramie was not so large a post as Fort<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_276"></a>[276]</span> -Leavenworth; it was not so large as Fort Kearney, -even. Davy was a little disappointed, for “Laramie” -was a name in the mouth of almost every bull whacker -in the Russell, Majors & Waddell trains out of Leavenworth, -and the men were constantly going “out to -Laramie” and back. The post stood on a bare plateau -beside Laramie Creek about a mile up from the Platte; -some of the buildings were white-washed adobe, some -were logs, and some were of rough-sawed lumber. -Back of the fort were hills, and beyond the hills, to the -southwest, were mountains—Laramie Peak being the -sentinel.</p> - -<p>It was the important division point on the Overland -Trail to Salt Lake; maintained here in the Sioux -Indian country to protect the trail and to be a distributing -point for Government supplies. It was garrisoned -by both cavalry and infantry; on the outskirts -were cabins of Indian traders and trappers and other -hangers-on, and there were a couple of stores that -sold things to emigrants. Sioux Indians usually were -camping nearby, in time of peace.</p> - -<p>Davy changed his rough teamster costume for -clothes a little more suited to a clerk and messenger in -the quartermaster’s department, and was put to work -by Captain Brown, the acting quartermaster. The -post proved a busy place, with the quartermaster’s -offices the busiest of all; but the captain and Mrs. -Brown saw that Dave was courteously treated and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_277"></a>[277]</span> -given a fair show. He went to evening school, and -had books to read; and once in a while was allowed -time for a hunt. In fact, Fort Laramie, away out here, -alone, guarding the middle of the Overland Trail -through to Salt Lake, was by no means a stupid or -quiet place.</p> - -<p>Of course, the trail was what kept it lively, for -every day news from the States and from the farther -west arrived with the emigrants and the bull trains; -and scarcely had Dave been settled into his new niche, -when arrived the first of the new daily stages from -the Missouri. It was preceded by a slender, gentlemanly -man named Bob Scott, dropped off by one of -the company wagons which was establishing the -stations. Bob Scott was to drive stage from Fort Laramie -on to Horseshoe, thirty-six miles, and he was here -in readiness. He seemed to be well known on the trail, -for many persons at the post called him “Bob.”</p> - -<p>“When do you expect to start on the run, Bob?” -asked the captain.</p> - -<p>“I think about next Tuesday, captain,” answered -Bob, in his quiet, easy tone. “The first coach leaves -to-day, I understand, from St. Joe.”</p> - -<p>“They’ll make it through in six days, will they?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, sir. Ten days to Salt Lake is the schedule—an -average of one hundred and twenty miles a day. -At Salt Lake the express and passengers are transferred -to the George Chorpening line to Placerville,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_278"></a>[278]</span> -California, and from Placerville they’re sent on to -Sacramento and San Francisco. I understand the -time from the Missouri River to San Francisco will -be about eighteen days.”</p> - -<p>“You haven’t heard what’s to be the name of the -new company, have you, Bob?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, sir. ‘Central Overland, California & -Pike’s Peak Express’ is to be the name; the ‘C. O. C. -& P. P.’”</p> - -<p>Stables and express station and a relay of horses -had been established adjacent to the post. The old -stage company, Hockaday & Liggett, had worked on a -loose, go-as-you-please system which was very different -from the way that Russell, Majors & Waddell -went at it. Now, with things in readiness along the -line, clear to Salt Lake City, Tuesday dawned on a -post eagerly hoping that Bob Scott’s calculation would -prove true.</p> - -<p>About eleven o’clock a murmur and hustle in the -post announced that the stage was in sight. It came -with a rush and a cheer—its four mules at a gallop, -up the trail, the big coach swaying behind them, the -driver firm on his box. Stain of dust and mud and -rain and snow coated the fresh coach body, for all the -way from the Missouri River, 600 miles, had it come, -through all kinds of weather, and had been travelling -night and day for six days. At top and bottom of -the frame around the stiffened canvas ran the legend:<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_279"></a>[279]</span> -“Central Overland California & Pike’s Peak Express -Co.”</p> - -<p>“Wild Bill” Hickok himself it was who, coolly -tossing his lines to the hostler, waiting to take them -and lead the horses to the stable, drawing off his gloves -bade, for the benefit of his passengers:</p> - -<p>“Gentlemen, you have forty minutes here for -dinner.”</p> - -<p>At the same moment the station keeper’s wife began -to beat a sheet-iron gong as dinner signal.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_280"></a>[280]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="XX">XX<br /> -<small>FAST TIME TO CALIFORNIA</small></h2> -</div> - - -<p>Dave was heartily glad to see Wild Bill again—and -Wild Bill seemed glad to see Davy.</p> - -<p>“I heard you were out in this region,” said Wild -Bill, after they had shaken hands. “Billy Cody told -me.”</p> - -<p>“When did you see him, Bill?”</p> - -<p>“Last time was when I was out to his house about -a month ago. He was planning on a trapping and -hunting trip with a man named Harrington up in the -Republican country north of Junction City. But he’ll -be on the trail again in the spring; you mark my -word.”</p> - -<p>“So you’re driving stage, are you, Bill?”</p> - -<p>“Yes; I’m running between Horse Creek and -Laramie, forty-two miles. It’s a great outfit, the C. -O. C. & P. P.—the finest coaches and mules I’ve ever -seen, and plenty of stations and feed. Now it’s up to -the drivers to make the schedule.” And Wild Bill -sauntered off, nodding to acquaintances, to wash and -eat.</p> - -<p>Davy joined the group admiring the coach. It<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_281"></a>[281]</span> -evidently had been prepared especially for the occasion -of the first trip through. It was a new “Concord,” -built by the famous stage-coach manufacturers, the -Abbot-Downing Company, of Concord, New Hampshire. -The large round, deep body was enclosed at the -sides by canvas curtains that could be rolled up; and -behind, it was extended to form a large roomy triangular -pocket, or “boot,” for mail and baggage. -The driver’s seat, in front, was almost on the level -with the roof; and beneath it was another pocket, or -boot, for express and other valuables. A pair of big -oil lamps sat upon brackets, at either end of the -driver’s seat. The coach body was slung upon heavy -straps forming the “throughbrace,” instead of resting -upon springs; and here it securely cradled. It had -been painted red and decorated with gilt.</p> - -<p>This coach had space for six passengers, three in -a seat facing three others in an opposite seat. The -coach was filled, when it had arrived, with the six -passengers and a lot of mail; Wild Bill on the box, -and beside him a wiry little man, who was Captain -Cricket, the express messenger.</p> - -<p>Bob Scott and Wild Bill ate dinner together at the -station. The fresh team of mules had been harnessed -into the traces, and were being held by the heads. -Bob looked at his watch, drew on his gloves, circuited -the mules with an eye to their straps and buckles, laid -his overcoat (a fine buffalo coat with high beaver<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_282"></a>[282]</span> -collar) on his seat, and grasping lines and whip climbed -up. Captain Cricket nimbly followed.</p> - -<p>“All ready, gentlemen,” announced Bob, his foot -on the brake, poised to release it. The passengers came -hurrying out and into the coach. Bob gave one glance -over his shoulder. Then—“Let ’er go,” he bade the -hostlers.</p> - -<p>“Whang!” his brake released; the hostlers leaped -aside; out flew his lash, forward sprang the mules, and -away went coach and all, in a flurry of dust, for the -next run, to Horseshoe Creek, thirty-six miles. Run -by run, up the Sweetwater River, over South Pass, -down to the Sandy and the Green Rivers, through -Fort Bridger and Echo Canyon, one hundred and more -miles every day, would it speed, by relays of teams and -of drivers, until the last team and last driver would -bring it into Salt Lake.</p> - -<p>Wild Bill took a horse and returned to his east -station, to drive in the next westbound stage. Every -day a stage came through, and presently the stages -from the west began coming back. The driver who -brought in a stage from one direction took back the -stage going in the opposite direction.</p> - -<p>The stages through to Salt Lake and to the Missouri -brought considerable new life to Fort Laramie. -Papers and letters from New York and San Francisco -arrived so quickly after being mailed that it was easy -to see what a great treat this service was to Salt Lake<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_283"></a>[283]</span> -and Denver and every little settlement along the whole -route.</p> - -<p>Mr. Ficklin was general superintendent of the line, -and was constantly riding up and down. No person -who passed by was better liked than Superintendent -Ficklin. Mr. Russell was in Washington, but Mr. -Majors appeared, once, stepping from the stage; and -he had not forgotten Davy.</p> - -<p>“Your pardner, Billy Cody, almost met his end -this winter, my lad,” he informed. “Did you hear -about it?”</p> - -<p>“No, sir,” gasped Dave.</p> - -<p>“Well, he did. He was up in central Kansas on a -trapping trip, and lost his oxen and broke his leg and -had to be left alone in a dug-out while his companion -went one hundred and twenty-five miles, afoot, to the -nearest settlement for a team and supplies. Billy got -snowed in, couldn’t move anyway, a gang of Indians -plundered him and might have murdered him, and -when, on the twenty-ninth day—nine days late—his -friend finally arrived and yelled to him, Billy could -scarcely answer. Even then the snow had to be dug -away from the door. But he reached home safely and -he’s getting along finely now. He’s plucky, is Billy—and -so was his friend, Harrington.”</p> - -<p>“Maybe he won’t want to go out on the plains any -more,” faltered Dave.</p> - -<p>“Who? Billy Cody?” And Mr. Majors laughed. -“You wait till the grass begins to get green and the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_284"></a>[284]</span> -willow buds swell, and you’ll see Billy Cody right on -deck, ready for business.”</p> - -<p>Back and forth, between Salt Lake and the Missouri -River shuttled the stages of the Central Overland, -California & Pike’s Peak Express. They seemed -to be making money for the company, but rumors -said that the company needed more money; in fact, -the company were in a bad way. The expenses had -been tremendous. The big coaches cost $1000 apiece—and -there were fifty of them. The harness for each -four-mule team was made in Concord, and it cost -about $150. Then there were 10,000 tons of hay a -year, at twenty to thirty dollars a ton; and 3,000,000 -pounds of corn and another 3,000,000 pounds of grain, -at several cents a pound; and 2000 mules at seventy-five -dollars each; and the wages of the men—$100 a -month and board for the division agents, $50 and $75 -a month for the drivers, $50 a month for the station -agents, and $40 a month for the hostlers who took care -of the mules.</p> - -<p>But even under this expense it seemed as though the -passenger fare of $125 to Denver and $200 to Salt -Lake (meals extra at a dollar and a dollar and a half), -and the heavy rates on express ought to bring the -company a profit. Davy, trying to figure out the -matter, hoped so. Of course, it was not his business, -but a fellow likes to have his friends successful; and -Dave looked upon Mr. Majors, and Mr. Russell, and -Mr. Waddell as very good friends of his.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_285"></a>[285]</span></p> - -<p>He took a trip, once in a while, on the stage east -with Wild Bill, or west with “Gentleman Bob,” on -quartermaster’s affairs, to some of the stations. There -always was room on the driver’s box, and generally -Wild Bill or “Gentleman Bob” was glad to have him -up there along with the messenger.</p> - -<p>“Gentleman Bob” proved to be as remarkable a -character as Wild Bill Hickok. When approaching -stations Wild Bill signalled with a tremendous piercing: -“Ah-whoop-pee!” and arrived on the run. -Gentleman Bob whistled shrilly. The teams for -either of them had to be changed in less than four -minutes, or there was trouble. The Overland stage -waited for naught.</p> - -<p>Wild Bill passed the news on to Gentleman Bob, -and Gentleman Bob it was who passed it to Davy, as -one fresh, windy morning in this the spring of 1860, -Dave gladly clambered up to the driver’s box to ride -through to the end of the run at Horseshoe.</p> - -<p>“Let ’er go!” yelped Bob, kicking the brake free; -and to mighty lunge and smart crack of lash the coach -jumped forward, whirling away from the station for -another westward spurt.</p> - -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">“This, oh this is the life for me,</div> - <div class="verse indent1">Driving the C. O. C. & P. P.”</div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class="noi">warbled Gentleman Bob, flicking the off lead mule -with the whip cracker. No bull whacker in any Russell,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_286"></a>[286]</span> -Majors & Waddell outfit could sling a whip -more deftly than “Gentleman Bob,” a “king of the -road.” “Do you know what that means, nowadays, -Red—‘C. O. C. & P. P.’?”</p> - -<p>“What, Bob?”</p> - -<p>“Clean Out of Cash & Poor Pay!”</p> - -<p>“Aw!” scoffed Davy. “Is it as bad as that?”</p> - -<p>“Pretty near,” asserted Bob. But that wasn’t his -news. His news followed. “Do you know something -else; what’s going to happen next on this blooming -road?”</p> - -<p>“Pony express!” hazarded Dave.</p> - -<p>Bob turned his head and coolly stared.</p> - -<p>“How’d you find out?”</p> - -<p>“I guessed. Mr. Ficklin spoke about it a long -time ago.”</p> - -<p>“Well, she’s due, and Ben Ficklin and Billy Russell -and Alex Majors and that crowd are back of it. -You saw Billy Russell go through Laramie last month. -He’s been buying hosses—the best in the country, two -hundred of ’em, at from one hundred to two hundred -dollars apiece. Read this advertisement in the paper; -that’ll tell you the scheme.” And reaching in behind -the leather apron which covered the front of the -pocket or “boot” under his seat, Bob extracted a -newspaper. He indicated with his thumb. “Read -that,” he bade.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_287"></a>[287]</span></p> - -<p>It was a “Missouri Republican,” date of March -26. The article said:</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p class="noic">TO SAN FRANCISCO IN EIGHT DAYS<br /> -BY<br /> -THE CENTRAL OVERLAND CALIFORNIA<br /> -AND<br /> -PIKE’S PEAK EXPRESS CO.</p> - -<p>The first courier of the Pony Express -will leave the Missouri River -on Tuesday, April 3, at 5 o’clock p. m., -and will run regularly weekly thereafter, -carrying a letter mail only. -The point of departure on the Missouri -River will be in telegraphic -connection with the East and will be -announced later.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>The letter mail will be delivered -in San Francisco in ten days from the -departure of the Express. The Express -passes through Forts Kearney, -Laramie, Bridger, Great Salt Lake -City, Camp Floyd, Carson City, The -Washoe Silver Mines, Placerville, -and Sacramento.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p class="right"><span class="smcap">W. H. Russell</span>, President.</p> - -<p class="noi"><span class="smcap">Leavenworth City, Kansas</span>,</p> - -<p class="noic">March, 1860.</p> -</div> - -<p>There was more than this to the advertisement, -but these were the paragraphs that appealed to Davy.</p> - -<p>“Pretty slick they’ve all been about it, too,” resumed -Bob, tucking the paper away again.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_288"></a>[288]</span></p> - -<p>“You’re right,” spoke the express messenger—who -was Captain Cricket, again on his way through to -Salt Lake. “They’ve bought the ponies and hired -the riders, sixty of them. The route’s being divided -into runs of seventy-five or a hundred miles, and -stocked with horses, every ten or fifteen miles, for -change of mounts.”</p> - -<p>“Do you think it’ll pay?” asked Gentleman Bob.</p> - -<p>“Pay? No! It can’t pay. But it’ll be a big advertisement -for this company. They count on showing -the Government that the Salt Lake Trail can be -travelled quicker and easier than the old Butterfield -overland trail through Texas, and on taking the mail -and express business away from it.”</p> - -<p>“I’d like to ride one of those runs,” asserted Dave, -boldly.</p> - -<p>Gentleman Bob laughed and cracked his silk lashed -whip, of which he was very proud.</p> - -<p>“I expect you would, Red,” he agreed. “But this -riding a hundred miles or more at a gallop without rest -is no kid’s job, you’d find.”</p> - -<p>“Billy Cody’ll ride, though, I bet a dollar,” returned -Davy.</p> - -<p>Gentleman Bob scratched his cheek with his whip -stock, and deliberated.</p> - -<p>“Well,” he said, “I shouldn’t wonder if he would.”</p> - -<p>Events moved rapidly now after the Pony Express -had been announced. Three new horses were stabled -at the stage station; two were wiry ponies, the other<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_289"></a>[289]</span> -was a mettlesome horse of such extra good points that -Gentleman Bob pronounced him a Kentucky thoroughbred. -The station force of men were increased by -Pony Express employees, and a rider himself arrived -who had been engaged to take the run from Laramie -west to the next “home” station, Red Buttes, ninety-eight -miles. His name was “Irish Tom,” and he did -not weigh more than one hundred pounds; but every -pound of him seemed to be good hard muscle.</p> - -<p>Irish Tom had come in from the west. He said -that he had been one of sixty riders hired at Carson -City, Nevada, by Bolivar Roberts, who was the superintendent -of the Western Division of the Pony -Express. According to Irish Tom every man had to -prove up that he was experienced on the plains and in -the mountains, and could ride. Altogether, there were -eighty riders waiting, stationed all the way across the -continent from St. Joseph on the Missouri to Sacramento -in California; there were over 400 picked horses, -which would gallop at top speed up hill and down, -through sand and mud, snow and water and sun, for at -least ten miles at a stretch.</p> - -<p>The start from both ends of the route, from St. -Joseph and from Sacramento, was to be made (as -advertised) on April 3. Of course there was no way -of knowing at Laramie, for instance, whether the -start had been made; the Pony Express would bring -its own news, for the railroad and the telegraph were -the only things that could beat it, and these seemed<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_290"></a>[290]</span> -a long way in the future. As for the Overland Stage, -the Pony Express was scheduled to travel two miles -to the stage’s one!</p> - -<p>April 3rd passed; so did April 4th and 5th. It was -figured at the post and stage station that on a schedule -of ten miles an hour, including stops, the 600 miles to -Laramie would bring the first rider through early on -April 6th. The west-bound rider would reach Laramie -before the east-bound rider, because the distance from -the Missouri River was the shorter distance.</p> - -<p>Davy was among those who turned out at daybreak -to watch for the first rider. He hustled down to the -stage station. The air was frosty, ice had formed -over night, and the sunrise was only a pink glow in the -east, beyond the expanse of rolling, sage-brush plain. -A group of stage and pony express employees and of -people from the post had gathered, wrapped in their -buffalo-robe coats and army coats, shivering in the -chill air, but waiting. By evidence of this group the -rider had not come; but the fresh horse was standing -saddled and bridled (he was the Kentucky thoroughbred), -and Irish Tom was also standing, ready, beside -it. Irish Tom wore a close-fitting leather jacket and -tight buckskin trousers, and boots and spurs and a -slouch hat tied down over his ears with a scarf. At -his belt were two revolvers and a knife; and slung -to his back was a Spencer carbine, which could fire -eight shots.</p> - -<p>All eyes were directed down the trail.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_291"></a>[291]</span></p> - -<p>“He’s due,” spoke the station agent. And—</p> - -<p>“There he comes!” shouted somebody. “There -he comes!”</p> - -<p>“There he comes! Hurray! There he comes!”</p> - -<p>Upon the dun sandy trail had appeared a black -speck. How rapidly it neared! Every eye was glued -to it; Irish Tom put foot into stirrup, hand upon -mane; his horse, as if knowing, pawed eagerly.</p> - -<p>Now the speck had enlarged into a horseman, -rising, falling, rising, falling, upon galloping steed. -The horse itself was plain—and through the still thin -air floated the heralding beat of rapid hoofs.</p> - -<p>The rider was leaning forward, lifting his mount -to its every stride; the horse’s head was stretched forward, -he was running low and hard, and now the steam -from his nostrils could be seen in great puffs. On -they swept, they two, man and horse, every second -nearer—and suddenly here they were, the horse’s -chest foam-specked, his nostrils wide and red, his legs -working forward and back, forward and back, his -rider a little fellow not much larger than Dave, crimson -faced from the swift pace through the cold night. -He swung his hat, and whooped, exultant. Up rose a -cheer to greet him; and the crowd scattered, for into -its very midst he galloped at full speed.</p> - -<p>He jerked from underneath him a set of saddle-bags, -and ere he had stopped he flung them ahead; -the station agent sprang to grab them, and before the -rider had landed upon the ground had slung them<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_292"></a>[292]</span> -across Irish Tom’s saddle and shouted: “Clear the -way!”</p> - -<p>Into his saddle leaped Irish Tom, tightened lines, -thrust spurs against hide, and at a single great bound -was away, bending low and racing like mad at full -gallop on up the trail for Red Buttes, almost 100 miles -westward again. In an astonishingly brief space of -time he was around the turn and out of sight; but the -rapid thud of his hoofs still echoed back.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_293"></a>[293]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="XXI">XXI<br /> -<small>“PONY EXPRESS BILL”</small></h2> -</div> - - -<p>The name of the rider who had just arrived was -Charley Cliff. As he stiffly swung from the saddle, a -dozen hands were thrust at him to clap him on the -shoulder and to shake his hand in congratulation.</p> - -<p>“What did you make it in?”</p> - -<p>“What time is it?” he panted.</p> - -<p>“You arrived at five ten.”</p> - -<p>“Is that so? Then I made the last twenty miles in -sixty-two minutes.”</p> - -<p>The horse looked like it. It staggered, weak-kneed, -as the hostler carefully led it to the stable. Charley also -slightly staggered from stiffness as he walked away -with the agent through a lane of admirers, for breakfast -and sleep.</p> - -<p>Before the east-bound mail arrived on its swift -journey from California to the Missouri River, Davy -and everybody else at Laramie knew just how the -system was being worked. Charley had been well -questioned.</p> - -<p>Only the best horses were used—horses that could -beat Indian horses or anything else on the road. The -Pony Express riders were supposed not to fight but<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_294"></a>[294]</span> -to run away. Their Spencer carbine and two revolvers -and knife were carried for use only in case -that they couldn’t run away. They all had to sign the -regular Russell, Majors & Waddell pledge, and each -one was given a calf-bound Bible, just as with the bull -trains. Small horses were preferred, and a very light -skeleton saddle was used. A set of saddle-bags called -a mochila (mo-cheela) was hung across the saddle; each -corner was a pocket for the mail. The pocket flaps -were locked by little brass keys, and could be unlocked -only by the station agents. The mochila was -passed from rider to rider, and the mail was taken out -or put in along the route. Of course, the most of the -mail was through mail, from the East to the Coast, -and from the Coast to the East. The rate was five -dollars a half ounce, and most of the letters were written -on tissue paper; the New York and St. Louis papers -also were to be printed on tissue paper for mailing by -the Pony Express. The limit was twenty pounds. -Charley thought that he had brought about three -pounds. The letters were wrapped in oiled silk, so -that they would not soak with water, and were in Government -Pony Express envelopes, which cost ten cents -apiece. Later Dave saw some of these letters, directed -to Laramie. Several addressed to the post sutler, for -instance, from merchant houses, had as much as -twenty dollars in postage stamps and Pony Express -stamps on the envelopes!</p> - -<p>Gradually the names of the Pony Express riders<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_295"></a>[295]</span> -passed back and forth along the line. There were -eighty of the riders, forty carrying the news in one -direction, forty carrying it in the other. Out on the -west end—the Pacific Division—were riding Harry -Roff and “Boston,” and Sam Hamilton (through -thirty feet of snow on the Sierra Nevada mountain -range!) and Bob Haslam, and Jay Kelley, Josh Perkins, -Major Egan. In and out of Laramie rode Irish -Tom, and Charley Cliff, who was only seventeen years -old. In and out of Julesburg rode Bill Hogan, and -“Little Yank,” who weighed a hundred pounds and -rode 100 miles without a rest. Further east, down the -Platte, were Theo Rand and “Doc” Brink, and Jim -Beatley, and handsome Jim Moore, and little Johnny -Frye—who took the first trip out of St. Joe.</p> - -<p>Their names and the names of other riders travelled -from mouth to mouth—and soon tales were being -told of storms and Indians and outlaws and accidents -that tried to stop the express but couldn’t. No -matter what conspired to stop him, the Pony Express -rider always got through. The first relays had carried -the mail from the Missouri River to Sacramento, California, -1966 miles, in nine days and twenty-three hours—one -hour under schedule! And after that the mail -went through, both ways, on schedule time or less.</p> - -<p>So, regularly as clockwork, into Laramie galloped -the rider from Mud Springs, with the west-bound mail, -and the rider from Red Buttes with the east-bound -mail; in fifteen seconds the saddle bags were changed<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_296"></a>[296]</span> -from horse to horse and out galloped the fresh riders. -Davy burned to vault aboard the saddle, like Irish Tom -or Charley, and scurry away, on business bent, to carry -the precious saddle bags to the next rider.</p> - -<p>But meanwhile, where was Billy Cody?</p> - -<p>The question was soon answered by Billy himself -when, one afternoon, into Fort Laramie pulled a Russell, -Majors & Waddell bull outfit with Government -freight from Leavenworth; also with Billy Cody riding -beside Wagon Boss Lew Simpson! Never was sight -more welcome to Dave, who from the quartermaster’s -office espied the familiar figure and immediately rushed -out to give greeting.</p> - -<p>Billy looked a little thin after the strenuous time -that he had had on the trapping expedition when he was -disabled and snowed in helpless; but he could shake -hands and exchange a “Hello,” before he swung from -his mule and made for Jack Slade.</p> - -<p>Mr. Slade was division superintendent of the stage -and Pony Express, with headquarters at Horseshoe -Station, thirty-six miles west from Laramie. Just now -he was coming across the grounds and Billy stopped -him.</p> - -<p>“How are you, Mr. Slade?”</p> - -<p>“How are you?”</p> - -<p>“My name’s Billy Cody, Mr. Slade. I want to -ride pony express. Mr. Russell’s sent me out to your -division with a letter.” And Billy extended the letter.</p> - -<p>Mr. Slade was a straight, muscular, rather slender<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_297"></a>[297]</span> -man, with smooth-shaven face, high cheek-bones, cool, -steady gray eyes and thin straight lips. He had the -reputation of being a dangerous man in a fight, and -already he had driven Old Jules, down at Julesburg, -into hiding. He was rapidly cleaning his division of -outlaws and thieves.</p> - -<p>Without opening the letter he scanned Billy from -head to foot. Billy stood stanch.</p> - -<p>“You do, do you?” presently said Mr. Slade. -“You’re too young for a pony express rider, my boy. -It takes men for that business.”</p> - -<p>Evidently he did not know Billy Cody.</p> - -<p>“I rode a while on Bill Trotter’s division, sir,” -responded Billy, eagerly. “I filled the bill there, and -I think I can do as well or better now.”</p> - -<p>Mr. Slade seemed interested.</p> - -<p>“Oh! Are you that boy who was riding down there -a short time back, as the youngest rider on the road?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, sir. I’m the boy.”</p> - -<p>Mr. Slade proceeded to read the Russell letter. It -must have recommended Billy highly, for Mr. Slade -appeared to be satisfied.</p> - -<p>“All right,” he said. “I’ve heard of you. I -shouldn’t wonder if it would shake the life out of you, -but maybe you can stand it. I’ll give you a trial, anyhow; -and if you can’t stand up to it you can tend stock -at Horseshoe. I’ll let you know your run in the morning.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_298"></a>[298]</span></p> - -<p>He walked away, and Billy turned to Dave with -face aglow.</p> - -<p>“I’ve got it!” he asserted. “Hurrah! It’s on the -toughest division west of the mountains, too! I tell -you that’s no joke, riding pony express—making eighty -or a hundred miles at a dead gallop night and day, and -changing horses every ten miles or so in less than two -minutes.”</p> - -<p>What luck! Or, no, not luck; Billy had earned it. -That evening Dave and he had a great old-time visit -exchanging news. Dave did not have much, it seemed -to him, worth while to report, but Billy was full of -adventures, as usual. Davy heard again all about the -trapping trip of last winter, and how another Dave—Dave -Harrington—had fought a heroic fight with the -snow to find Billy in the dug-out, and rescue him. -Billy was all right now; and after having had a short, -rather easy, pony express run down the line, was here -anxious to tackle something harder.</p> - -<p>Mr. Slade went on to Horseshoe early the next -morning, but he saw Billy before he left, and Billy -got the assignment. He hailed Dave in high feather.</p> - -<p>“I’m off,” he announced. “But I’m on, too. I’ve -got the run between Red Buttes and Three Crossings! -Seventy-six miles—about the hardest run on the -toughest division of the trail! Reckon maybe he thinks -he has my scalp, but he hasn’t. I’ll go through like -greased lightning. That’s an Injun and outlaw country -both; and I have to ford the Sweetwater three<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_299"></a>[299]</span> -times in sixty yards! Slade’s a hard man to work for, -too, they say. He won’t stand for any foolishness. -But I’ll get along with him all right as soon as he finds -out I do my duty. So long, Red. I’ll see you later. -You’ll hear from me, anyway. I told you I was going -to ride pony express, remember? I used to think I’d -be president; but I’d rather have this run than be boss -at Washington all the rest of my life!”</p> - -<p>He hastily shook hands. Dave envied him heartily, -but he also wished him success. Nobody deserved success -more than Billy. Of course, to be the youngest -rider on the whole route from St. Joe to Sacramento -was a big thing, and nobody can blame Davy for a -trace of honest envy. He went back to his day’s -routine. The bull train pulled out at once, and Billy -started with it for his new job.</p> - -<p>Soon word from him travelled back to Laramie -and Dave by Irish Tom, who received the saddle bags -from him at Red Buttes, and by Gentleman Bob, who -heard from him through the other stage drivers. -“Pony Express Bill” he began to be called; the “kid” -rider between Red Buttes and Three Crossings, on -the Platte and Sweetwater Rivers of the Salt Lake -Trail in what is to-day south central Wyoming but -which was then western Nebraska Territory.</p> - -<p>Great things were reported of Billy. One time -when the rider west of him was killed, Billy rode his -own run and the other run, too, and all the way back<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_300"></a>[300]</span> -again—322 miles at a stretch! When Mr. Slade -learned of this he said: “That boy’s a brick!” and -he gave Billy extra pay.</p> - -<p>Another time bandits stopped Billy and demanded -his express package, which they knew contained a large -sum of money. But Billy was smart. He had hidden -the real package under his saddle, and now he threw -them a dummy package containing only paper. When -they stooped to pick it up and examine it he spurred -his horse right over them and was away, flying up -the trail—and although they fired at him they never -touched him!</p> - -<p>Another time the Sioux Indians ambushed him, -and when he dashed past they chased him. But he lay -flat on his pony’s back while the arrows whistled over -him, and he rode twenty-four miles without stopping.</p> - -<p>Another time one bandit halted him in a lonely -canyon.</p> - -<p>“You’re a mighty leetle fellow to be takin’ sech -chances,” said the bandit, while he held his gun pointed -at Billy’s head.</p> - -<p>“I’m as big as any other fellow, I reckon,” answered -Billy, coolly.</p> - -<p>“How do you figure that?” asked the bandit.</p> - -<p>Billy tapped his Colt’s revolver.</p> - -<p>“I may be little, but I can shoot as hard as if I -were General Jackson,” he warned.</p> - -<p>“I expect you can, an’ I reckon you would,”<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_301"></a>[301]</span> -chuckled the bandit, tickled with Billy’s nerve; and he -let him ride on.</p> - -<p>So it was not long before “Pony Express Bill” -was drawing $150 a month pay, which was the top -wages paid on the road.</p> - -<p>Meanwhile Dave felt that his work at Fort Laramie -was rather tame. It was just the same thing day after -day, with only ordinary pay, and three meals a day, -and a good bed at night, and a lot of friends—and—and—that -seemed about all, except that he was learning -all the time from books and from the people about -him; and he knew that he was growing inside as well -as outside. To tell the truth, he was doing first-rate -and getting ahead, and was being given more and more -responsibility and showing that he could carry it; -but of course he wanted to prove his pluck by riding -pony express. That <em>seemed</em> bigger—whether it really -was or not.</p> - -<p>His chance came, as it generally does to everybody -who waits for it and holds himself ready. All the -summer there had been talk among the army officers -at the post and between them and the stage passengers -who passed through of affairs in the East, where -a presidential campaign was being hotly carried on. -It appeared, by the talk and by the papers, that a man -named Abraham Lincoln was a candidate of the -North, and that Stephen A. Douglas was a candidate -of the South, and that if Mr. Lincoln was elected South<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_302"></a>[302]</span> -Carolina and other Southern States threatened to -withdraw from the Union. They claimed that each -State had the right of governing itself, and that States -and Territories should decide for themselves whether -or not they would own slaves within their borders.</p> - -<p>The question as to whether Kansas should be -“slave” or “free” had caused fighting when that -territory was being settled; and Billy Cody’s father, -who was a “Free State” man, had been so badly -stabbed that he never recovered. The settlement of -Nebraska Territory also had brought on much bitter -feeling between North and South—for the North was -against the extension of slavery. So was Abraham -Lincoln. The army officers at Fort Laramie, some of -whom were Northerners and some Southerners, declared -that the election of Lincoln would mean war; -according to the Northern officers, if the Southern -States tried to withdraw; according to the Southern -officers, if the Southern States were not permitted to -withdraw.</p> - -<p>The election was to be held on November 6, and it -would be November 10 before the news of who won -could reach Laramie by the Pony Express. That -was a long time at the best when such important events -were occurring; but even at that Davy (who was as -impatient as anybody) found that he might be disappointed, -for he was ordered by Captain Brown to -take the stage west in the morning and go up the line -to Horseshoe Station on Government business.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_303"></a>[303]</span></p> - -<p>When the stage left, early, Irish Tom was still -standing ready beside his horse to take the saddle bag -from Charley Cliff. Charley had not come—and it -was learned afterward that the mail was late in starting -from St. Joseph because it had waited for the -election news.</p> - -<p>So Dave mounted the driver’s box on the C. O. C. -& P. P. stage beside Gentleman Bob, and they drove -away and left the unknown news behind them.</p> - -<p>However, not for long. They had gone scarcely -fifteen miles when Gentleman Bob, who had been constantly -glancing over his shoulder, exclaimed: “There -he comes! Look at him, will you!”</p> - -<p>By “he” could be meant only one person—the -Pony Express rider. Yes, the Pony Express it -was—a dark spot, rising, falling, rising, falling, pelting -up the dusty trail.</p> - -<p>“He’s certainly going some,” commented the stage -messenger, who this time was not Captain Cricket, but -was Jack Mayfield.</p> - -<p>Bob flung his lash over the backs of his four mules -and broke them into a gallop. But although the stage -was empty this trip and the mules fresh, and the road -smooth, the pony express closed in as fast as if the -coach were standing still.</p> - -<p>“Going to pass us,” laughed Bob, and slowed his -team.</p> - -<p>And the pony express <em>did</em> pass them. There was<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_304"></a>[304]</span> -sudden staccato of hoofs, like a long roll of a drum—a -rush, a whoop—“Who’s elected?” yelled Bob, -turning in his seat to meet the onswoop.</p> - -<p>“Lincoln. New York gives fifty thousand majority,” -shouted back Irish Tom; and in a cloud of -dust he was away, leaving a flake of froth on the coach -box at Davy’s feet.</p> - -<p>“Lincoln, huh?” remarked Gentleman Bob. -“Well, I wonder what’ll happen now. But that boy’s -sure riding,” and he gazed reflectively after Irish Tom.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_305"></a>[305]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="XXII">XXII<br /> -<small>CARRYING THE GREAT NEWS</small></h2> -</div> - - -<p>“Lincoln’s elected!” The words continued to -ring in Davy’s ears, and the flying shape of the Pony -Express, bearing the great news, was constantly in his -eyes as at trot and gallop the stage rolled along the -Salt Lake Overland trail from Fort Laramie on. Irish -Tom and his hard pushed pony were out of sight, but -they were not forgotten.</p> - -<p>The trail was almost deserted this morning; only -one emigrant train was passed, and, drawing aside -to let the stage by, it cheered to the three persons on -the box: “Hooray for Lincoln!”</p> - -<p>Davy cheered back; but Gentleman Bob and Messenger -Mayfield looked straight ahead and said -nothing. That was the fashion. Emigrant trains and -bull trains were considered beneath the notice of the -stage coach box.</p> - -<p>However, in another mile something did attract -the notice of Gentleman Bob, whose eyes were ever -on the lookout, although he usually spoke little.</p> - -<p>“Looks like trouble, yonder,” he remarked, pointing -with his whip. “How’s your gun, Jack? O. K.?”</p> - -<p>“Yes.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_306"></a>[306]</span></p> - -<p>“Better have it ready. Red, you get down in the -boot under the seat and stay there, when I say so. -You’re liable to be shot full of holes.”</p> - -<p>Bob gathered his lines tighter and peered keenly. -His jaw set, as, holding up his mules, prepared for -sudden dash, he sent them forward at brisk trot. -Messenger Mayfield shifted his short double-barrelled -gun loaded with buckshot from between his knees to -his lap and pulled down his hat.</p> - -<p>Half a mile before, in the hollow of the sweeping -curve which the coach was rounding, was a riderless -horse moving restlessly hither-thither in the brush beside -the trail; he was equipped with saddle and bridle—at -least so Bob muttered, and so the messenger agreed, -and so Davy believed that he, also, could see—but of -the rider there was no sign <em>yet</em>.</p> - -<p>Indians! Then why hadn’t they taken the horse? -Or road agents, as the bandits were called! The rider -must have been shot from the saddle. And would -the coach, passing, find him? Or were the Indians, -surprised in the act, ambushed and waiting? Or what -<em>had</em> happened, anyway?</p> - -<p>“That’s the Pony Express horse, gentleman,” said -Bob, quietly. “I know the animal. There’s been bad -work.”</p> - -<p>Mr. Mayfield, who was as nervy as Bob himself, -nodded; Davy breathed faster, his heart beating -loudly; Bob flung his lash, straightened out his team,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_307"></a>[307]</span> -and with brake slightly grinding descended the hill at -a gallop.</p> - -<p>“I see him!” exclaimed Messenger Mayfield. -“At the edge of the road. He’s hurt, but he can -move.”</p> - -<p>Davy, too, could see a dismounted man—Irish Tom -or somebody else—half raising himself from the -ground, and crawling into the trail, where he sat waving -his handkerchief.</p> - -<p>With rattle and shuffle and grinding of brake the -coach bore down, prepared to stop—and prepared for -anything else that might befall.</p> - -<p>Yes, it was Irish Tom, the Pony Express rider, and -that was his horse, the saddle bags still on it, fidgeting -in the brush. Tom was half lying, half sitting, supporting -himself with one arm and waving with the -other. His hat was gone, his uplifted hand bleeding, -one leg seemed useless, and altogether he appeared in -a sad state.</p> - -<p>In a cloud of dust from the braced hoofs and -locked wheels Gentleman Bob halted with the leaders’ -fore hoofs almost touching Tom.</p> - -<p>“What’s the matter here?”</p> - -<p>Tom’s face, grimy and streaked and pinched with -pain, gazed up agonizedly, but he did not mince words. -The Pony Express rider was superior even to a stage -driver.</p> - -<p>“Catch that horse for me. I’ve broken my leg.”</p> - -<p>Down from the box nimbly swung Mr. Mayfield;<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_308"></a>[308]</span> -jamming his brakes tighter and tying the lines short, -down swung Gentleman Bob. Down clambered Dave.</p> - -<p>“How’d it happen?”</p> - -<p>“Fell and threw me. Catch him and help me on; -and hurry up.”</p> - -<p>“Catch him, Jack; you and Dave,” bade Bob, -crisply. “Where’s it broken, Tom?”</p> - -<p>“High up, but that doesn’t matter. I’ll ride if it -kills me. I’m late now.”</p> - -<p>Luckily the horse was easily caught; his dragging -lines, entangled in a sage clump, held him until Mr. -Mayfield laid hand upon them. When Dave, with Mr. -Mayfield leading the horse, returned into the road -and hustled back to Bob and Tom, Bob was arguing -tensely.</p> - -<p>“But you can’t, Tom! You can’t do it, man! You -can’t fork a saddle with your hip broken.”</p> - -<p>Tom struggled to sit up—and the great beads of -sweat stood out on his red brow.</p> - -<p>“You help me on, and tie me there; that’s all I -ask. I’ll make it. I’ve <em>got</em> to.”</p> - -<p>“We’ll take you on to the next station, and the -saddle bags, too,” retorted Bob. “That’s the quickest -way. Strip that horse, Red. Give me a lift with Tom, -here, Jack. Open the coach door.”</p> - -<p>“But there’s nobody except the agent at the next -station, Bob!” appealed Tom, wildly. “Who’ll take -the express?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_309"></a>[309]</span></p> - -<p>“Then we’ll go through to the next station. They -can send somebody from there, I reckon.”</p> - -<p>Suddenly a great thought struck Davy—and he -wondered why the same hadn’t occurred to the others.</p> - -<p>“I’ll ride it, Tom! I’ll ride it, Bob! Let <em>me</em>.” -And he sprang for the express pony.</p> - -<p>Bob slapped his dusty thigh: The idea struck him.</p> - -<p>“Go it,” he exclaimed. “Take those lines. Unbuckle -your guns, Tom, old man, while I hold you.”</p> - -<p>“Somebody put my spurs on him,” panted Tom, -tugging at his belt buckle.</p> - -<p>Words had been rapid, fingers worked fast; and -almost in less time than it takes to tell it, after the -halting of the coach, Davy was in the Pony Express -saddle, with the final orders filling his ears.</p> - -<p>“Now ride, boy; ride!”</p> - -<p>Scarcely yet settled into the stirrups, he bounded -forward (the jerk of the mettlesome pony almost -snapped his head loose), and was away.</p> - -<p>“Ride, boy; ride!”</p> - -<p>Davy jammed tighter his hat; his feet clinging to the -stirrups, he half turned in the saddle and waved his -hand to the little group behind. They would see that -he was all right. They were grouped just as he had left -them: Mr. Mayfield standing, where he had strapped -the spurs to Davy’s heels after Dave had mounted; -Gentleman Bob half erect, over Tom, from whom he -had passed the revolver belt.</p> - -<p>But even as Davy looked, they all moved, preparing<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_310"></a>[310]</span> -to lift Tom into the coach. Davy faced ahead and -settled to his work.</p> - -<p>“Ride, boy; ride!”</p> - -<p>Well, he <em>could</em> ride! he knew how; and if he didn’t -know how he was bound to stick, anyway. There were -the plump saddle bags under him, crossed by his legs; -he was carrying the fast mail—and Lincoln was -elected!</p> - -<p>The pony ran without a break and needed no urging. -He was trained to his work—a stanch, swift, apparently -tireless animal. The wind smote Davy in the -face, bringing water to his eyes; the sandy, beaten -trail flowed backward beneath them like a dun torrent, -the sage and rocks reeled dizzily past on either hand, -and amidst the rhythmic beat of hoofs the pony’s -breaths rose to snorty grunts.</p> - -<p>Now another emigrant train for Salt Lake City -and the Mormon colony dotted the trail before. Past -them thudded Dave, and as he raced down the line he -yelled shrilly:</p> - -<p>“Lincoln’s elected! Lincoln’s elected!”</p> - -<p>“By how much?”</p> - -<p>“New York gives him fifty thousand!”</p> - -<p>Dave was not certain what this conveyed, exactly, -but it had sounded important from Irish Tom.</p> - -<p>Some of the train cheered, some growled, but he -speedily left both cheers and growls behind him.</p> - -<p>The first of the stations appeared ahead—a blot -of darker drab beside the trail. This was one of the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_311"></a>[311]</span> -way stations—the stations where horses were changed -in less than two minutes. Two minutes was the limit, -but frequently the change was made in fifteen seconds.</p> - -<p>Dave’s pony seemed to know where he was and -what was at hand. He snorted, and at pick of spur -let himself out a little longer in his stride and doubled -and stretched a little faster.</p> - -<p>The station swiftly enlarged. A poor place it was, -Dave remembered: a low log cabin, sod roofed, with -rude log stable close behind it, and a pole corral. The -station man would be about as rude in appearance: -unshaven, well weathered, dressed in slouch hat, rough -flannel shirt, red or blue, belted trousers and heavy -boots. There he lived, by the roadside, 700 miles into -the Indian country, alone amidst the unpeopled, rolling -sagy hills through which flowed the North Platte -River and extended, unending, the ribbon-like road. -Dave could see him standing in front of the buildings, -holding the relay horse and peering down the trail for -its rider. The stations were required by the company -to have the fresh horse saddled and bridled and ready -half an hour before the express was due.</p> - -<p>Dave knew his duty, too. Not slackening pace, he -loosened from the fastenings the saddle bags under -him. Up at full gallop he dashed, and even before -he had pulled his pony to its haunches, he tore the -saddle bags from beneath him and tossed them ahead. -Then he was off in a twinkling, staggering as he landed.</p> - -<p>“Quick!” he gasped, out of parched throat.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_312"></a>[312]</span></p> - -<p>The station man had stared, but he grabbed the -saddle bags.</p> - -<p>“Who are you? Where’s Tom?”</p> - -<p>“Hurt. Coming on stage.”</p> - -<p>The saddle bags were clapped on the other saddle. -Dave grasped the bridle lines.</p> - -<p>“Bad?”</p> - -<p>“Leg broken.” And Davy, thrusting foot into -stirrup, vaulted aboard almost over the station man’s -head.</p> - -<p>One last twitch to the saddle bags.</p> - -<p>“What’s the news?”</p> - -<p>“Lincoln’s elected. New York gives him fifty -thousand majority.” And away sprang Dave, headlong -on the next leg of his route.</p> - -<p>Thudding through the sand, clattering over the -rocks, echoing through short defiles, ever urging his -pony, rode Davy. He was resolved to go clear through, -to the home station at Red Buttes, over sixty miles. -The stations ahead had no means of knowing that an -accident had befallen the regular rider; and to mount -another substitute, at short notice, would consume valuable -time. At Red Buttes Billy Cody would take the -saddle bags—and to give them to Billy he must.</p> - -<p>At the next station, fourteen miles, the station man -had helpers in the shape of two hostlers or stable -hands. They also gazed, astonished at sight of Dave -instead of Irish Tom; but no one wasted precious moments -in explanations. The conversation was much<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_313"></a>[313]</span> -the same as before—and on his fresh horse Dave -spurred again up the long, long trail. He passed a -toiling bull train. “Lincoln’s elected,” he shrieked as -before; but he was going so fast that he did not catch -their response. He only noted them wave their whips -in salute.</p> - -<p>Horseshoe Station hove into view. This was headquarter’s -station for the division. Here stayed, when -not on the trail, Mr. Slade, the division superintendent; -and he was in front of the station cabin with the -other men, peering down the road.</p> - -<p>Davy galloped in. He was assailed by a volley of -queries—until Mr. Slade cut them short.</p> - -<p>“No matter,” he bade curtly. “Fasten that -mochila. Now ride, my lad; you’re half an hour late!”</p> - -<p>“Lincoln’s elected,” gasped Davy, spurring away.</p> - -<p>He was getting tired. His feet were growing -numb, and his ankles were being chafed raw. Before -he arrived at the next station, the Platte River had to -be forded. As he passed through, a man sprang into -sight, in the trail at the farther bank. Dave’s heart -leaped into his throat. The man was partially screened -by willows. He was armed. With ears pricked, the -horse forged ahead, and the man waited. To leave -the stream bed required a little climb up the rather -steep bank, and as Dave reached it out whipped the -man’s revolver and the muzzle was trained true at -Dave. It seemed to him that the round hole covered -every inch of his body. His horse shied and balked.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_314"></a>[314]</span></p> - -<p>“Throw off that mail bag.”</p> - -<p>The man was “Yank,” assistant wagon boss -under Charley Martin! Dave recognized him at once, -although the slouch hat was pulled low. But beneath -the brim the eyes were those of “Yank.”</p> - -<p>“No,” panted Dave, trying to hold his voice steady -and think of what Billy Cody or Irish Tom would do. -“It’s only election news.”</p> - -<p>“Throw off that mail and be quick, too,” ordered -“Yank,” with a string of curses.</p> - -<p>Hardly knowing what he did, but resolved to do -something, Dave plunged his spurs into his pony’s -heaving flanks. With a great snort and a long leap -the pony lunged forward straight up the bank. -“Yank” uttered a sudden vicious exclamation and -dived aside; but the horse’s shoulder struck him, hurled -him aside, and at the instant veering sharply into the -fringe of willows Dave sent his mount crashing -through. The willows slapped him in the face and on -the body. He bent low—in a moment more they were -out of the willows, again into the trail, and tearing -onward. He heard a shot—just one; but the bullet -went wide, and thudity, thudity, he was galloping safe. -A little shaky, Dave laughed; he felt like giving a -whoop—although he could not spare breath for even -that. He imagined, though, how mad “Yank” must -be, and this was what had made him laugh.</p> - -<p>Even with the excitement of the hold-up that failed, -the road began to seem wearisome, the ride one monotonous<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_315"></a>[315]</span> -pound. The chafing stirrups tortured his ankles -almost beyond endurance—but not quite; no, not quite. -The saddle chafed his thighs. His mouth was parched, -he could scarcely breathe; he could scarcely see, when, -ever and anon, his head swam giddily. He forded -the river again. From throbbing pain, his ankles -changed to the relief of numbness, and his feet, blistered, -and his blistered thighs gradually ceased to be -his; they felt as if they belonged to somebody else.</p> - -<p>He had vague recollection of arriving at the way -stations, of staggering from horse to horse, of being -helped into the saddle, of voices hailing him, and hands -and voices forwarding him on again. Once he passed -the east-bound stage—and again he passed it, or another: -and he piped to the staring faces: “Lincoln’s -elected. New York gives fifty thousand majority.” -The words issued mechanically, and he did not know -what effect they had.</p> - -<p>He had vague recollection that a bevy of Indians -yelled at him and flourished their bows, and that he -heard the hiss of arrows travelling even faster than -he; but he could not stop to argue. The one fact that -stuck in his mind was that he was nearly on time. -“Three minutes late,” he thought that somebody said -at the last station where he changed horses. And—“Go -it, lad! You’re a plucky one.”</p> - -<p>“Three minutes late” was all. The thought buoyed -him up and glued him to his saddle. Gallop, gallop, -over rock and sand, through brush and through the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_316"></a>[316]</span> -bare open and through occasional scrubby growth of -trees; through shaded canyons, and through the burning, -windy sunshine.</p> - -<p>Was that Red Buttes? Was that really Red -Buttes at last—the end of his trip, where waited Billy -Cody? Supposing Billy wasn’t there; would they want -<em>him</em> to continue riding, riding, forever? He uttered -a little sob of despair, but he set his teeth hard, and -resolved that he’d do it; he’d do it, if he <em>had</em> to.</p> - -<p>The road was hilly and his horse flagged. He -spurred ruthlessly and struck with his hat. If he did -not arrive on time he would be ashamed, for nobody -could know how hard he had tried. Up the hill he -forced his pony and would not let him relax into a -trot. Down the grade he galloped—every forward -jump a torment. Red Buttes—that <em>must</em> be Red -Buttes—wavered strangely amidst the level expanse -before. But he reached it. At least he thought that -he reached it, and he fumbled at his saddle bags to -loosen them.</p> - -<p>Somebody rushed forward as if to meet him and -help him; and he saw, lined plainly amidst the confused -other countenances and figures, the astonished face of -Billy.</p> - -<p>“It’s Red! Look out! He’ll fall off!” Billy’s -voice rang like a trumpet.</p> - -<p>“Where’s the regular man?” they demanded.</p> - -<p>“Tom’s hurt—away back. I took his place.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_317"></a>[317]</span> -Quick, Billy! Go on. Election news. Lincoln’s -elected.”</p> - -<p>Billy vented an exclamation. He was into the -saddle atop the saddle bags; he sprang away.</p> - -<p>“Take good care of that kid,” he called back. -“He’s a good one.”</p> - -<p>“You bet we will.”</p> - -<p>“Am I on time?” wheezed Davy, vaguely, unable -to see straight.</p> - -<p>“Two minutes ahead of time, lad.”</p> - -<p>Then they picked up Davy and carried him in, -for he had fallen. He felt that he was entitled to fall. -Besides, he could not have walked to save his life, now -that he was done with the saddle bags.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_318"></a>[318]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="XXIII">XXIII<br /> -<small>A BRUSH ON THE OVERLAND STAGE</small></h2> -</div> - - -<p>Davy was so stiff and sore that for several days -he moved around very little; but he learned that the -news which he had brought in was being rushed westward -at a tremendous rate. Billy Cody had ridden -the last ten miles of his own run in thirty minutes; -and by special rider from Julesburg the tidings “Lincoln’s -elected!” had been taken into Denver only two -days and twenty-one hours out of St. Joseph—665 -miles.</p> - -<p>When Davy was on his way back to Laramie he -heard, at Horseshoe Station, that the news had been -carried through to California in eight days—two days -less than schedule! That was riding! And although -he never again was on Pony Express, he felt that to the -end of his life he would be proud of having ridden it -once and of having performed well.</p> - -<p>The people at Fort Laramie appreciated what Davy -had done, and if he had not been a sensible boy the -praise that he got would have turned his head. Captain -Brown it was who summoned him over to the -Brown quarters one evening and asked flatly:</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_319"></a>[319]</span></p> - -<p>“Dave, how would you like to go to West Point -and be educated for a soldier?”</p> - -<p>Dave gulped, in surprise, and blushed red. Such -an education had been beyond his dreams.</p> - -<p>“You have the right stuff in you, boy,” continued -the captain, eyeing him. “You’ve made a good start, -but you can’t continue knocking around this way. -The frontier won’t last forever. When the telegraph -comes through, connecting the West with the East, -the Pony Express will have to quit; and there’ll soon -be a railroad, and then the stage coach business will -have to quit. If we have war (and things look like -it), I’ll be ordered out; so will the other officers and -men here, and what will happen to you is a problem. -See? If you want to go to West Point you ought to -begin preparing, so as to be ready when you’re old -enough to enter. It’s no easy matter to take the course -at the Academy; but it’s the finest education in the -world, even if you don’t stay in the army. I don’t want -you to go there with the idea of being a fighting man. -Army officers are the last persons of all to wish for -fighting. The army has a great work to do outside -of war. We’re supposed to civilize the country and -keep it peaceful. At West Point your body is built -up, and what you learn, you learn thoroughly. You -come out fit to meet every kind of emergency. What -do you say? If you say ‘yes,’ then I’ll make application -for you to the President direct and ask him to<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_320"></a>[320]</span> -appoint you ‘at large,’ as he has a right to do, just as -if you were my own son.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, sir,” stammered Davy, red. “I’d like to -go.”</p> - -<p>“Good!” exclaimed the captain, shaking with him. -“I’ll make arrangements so that if I’m ordered out -you’ll be in the right hands.”</p> - -<p>Events seemed to occur fast. By Pony Express -dispatches and the tissue newspapers it was learned -that South Carolina had withdrawn from the Union -and that the other Southern States were following -suit. Abraham Lincoln in his inauguration address -besought peace but stood firmly for a United States. -His address was carried from Saint Joseph to Sacramento, -1966 miles, in seven days and seventeen hours—a -new record. But when arrived the word that -on April 12 the South Carolina troops had bombarded -Fort Sumter, then everybody knew that the war had -begun.</p> - -<p>Another important thing, also, occurred. Before -spring a stranger who created considerable talk came -through by stage bound west. He was Mr. Edward -Creighton—a pleasant gentleman with an Irish face; -and was on his way to Salt Lake looking over the -country with a view to putting in a telegraph line -through to Salt Lake City. A California company was -to build from California east to Salt Lake and it was -rumored that the Government offered a payment of -$40,000 a year to the company that reached Salt Lake<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_321"></a>[321]</span> -the first. This meant, of course, a line clear across -from the Missouri to the Pacific coast.</p> - -<p>In the hurly-burly of troops preparing to leave for -the front in the East, Davy had the idea that he, too, -should go as a drummer boy, maybe. The sight of -Billy Cody hurrying through was hard to bear.</p> - -<p>Billy appeared unexpectedly on the stage from -Horseshoe Station, where he had been an “extra” -rider under direct orders of Superintendent Jack -Slade himself.</p> - -<p>“Hello, Billy!”</p> - -<p>“Hello, Dave.”</p> - -<p>“Where are you going now, Billy?”</p> - -<p>“Back home. I haven’t been home for a year, and -my mother wants to see me. She’s poorly again. I -guess I’d better be where things are boiling, too. This -war won’t last more than six months, they say; but -Kansas is liable to be a hot place with so many Southerners -just across the border in Missouri. I ought to -be on hand in case of trouble around home.”</p> - -<p>That was just like Billy—to be on hand! Dave -had more than half a mind to accompany him to -Leavenworth, and Captain Brown, about to leave himself, -had about decided that Leavenworth would be the -best place, when the matter was solved by the appearance -of the Reverend Mr. Baxter, who arrived on the -next stage from the west.</p> - -<p>“Gee whillikins!” exclaimed Dave, overjoyed, -rushing to meet him. “What are <em>you</em> doing here?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_322"></a>[322]</span></p> - -<p>“Oh, merely coming through on my way from -Salt Lake back to Denver,” laughed Mr. Baxter. “I’m -messenger on the stage between Julesburg and Denver, -but I’ve been off on a little vacation with a survey -party for a new stage road. I heard you were here. -You’re celebrated since you made that splendid ride, -Davy.”</p> - -<p>Davy blushed again. He hated to blush, but he -had to.</p> - -<p>“What are you doing these days?” demanded Mr. -Baxter.</p> - -<p>As soon as he heard of Davy’s plans and present -fix, he insisted that Davy travel down to Denver with -him and stay there.</p> - -<p>“Room with me, Dave?” he proffered generously. -“I need a bunky. You can get work easy enough—I -know the very place where they can use a boy who -can write and figure—and I’ll tutor you. It will do -me good to brush up a little in mathematics and all -that.”</p> - -<p>Captain Brown agreed, and the matter was -promptly settled. Away went Dave, and the next day -Captain Brown himself left for Fort Leavenworth, -and then—where? His going would have made Laramie -rather empty for Dave.</p> - -<p>Denver had grown amazingly. There was now no -“Auraria”; all was Denver City—and what had been -known as “Western Kansas” and the “Territory of -Jefferson,” was the Territory of Colorado. On both<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_323"></a>[323]</span> -sides of Cherry Creek many new buildings, two and -three stories, some of the buildings being brick, had -gone up; potatoes and other produce were being raised, -and the streets, busier than ever, were thronged with -merchants and other real citizens, as well as with -miners and bull whackers.</p> - -<p>Mr. Baxter took Davy over to see the lots that they -had bought for the sack of flour two years before. -Then, the lots had been out on the very edge of town; -now they were right in the business district. The -Jones family had not cared for them; had sold them -for a mere song and had pushed on to “get rich -quick” mining. The Joneses had gone back to the -States, poor; but the lost lots were being held by the -present owners at $1000 apiece.</p> - -<p>Mr. Baxter made good his promise, and Dave -found a niche (which appeared to have been made -especially for a red-headed boy, with spunk, who could -read and write as well as take care of himself on the -trail) in the Elephant Corral. This was a large store -building and yard for the convenience of merchants -and overland traffic. It dealt in flour and feed and -other staples consigned to it, and was headquarters -for bull outfits arriving and leaving.</p> - -<p>The war excitement continued. Colorado, like -Kansas and Nebraska, sent out its volunteers in response -to the calls of President Lincoln. Mr. Baxter -tried hard to be accepted as a chaplain, but the examining<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_324"></a>[324]</span> -surgeons refused him, he confided to Davy, -because he had a “bum lung.”</p> - -<p>“So, Davy boy,” he said, “you and I will have to -fight the battle of peace, and win our honors there, -at present.”</p> - -<p>They heard that Captain Brown had been made -a general, and Billy Cody and Wild Bill, too, were -serving on the Union side as scouts and despatch -bearers in Kansas and Missouri. As for Davy, he -pegged along, rooming and boarding with Mr. Baxter, -doing his work at the Elephant Corral and studying -evenings.</p> - -<p>Meanwhile, the staging and freighting across the -plains and to Salt Lake continued, when not interrupted -by the Indians. The Butterfield “Southern -Overland,” through Texas and New Mexico and -Arizona to California, which had been carrying the -Government mail for two years, had to be discontinued -on account of the war and the Apache Indians; -and the contract was given to the “Central” route, -operated by Russell, Majors & Waddell. This meant -$400,000 a year from the Government, and it looked -as though the Central Overland, California & Pike’s -Peak need no longer be called the “Clean Out of Cash -& Poor Pay”; but soon the word came that the whole -line had been bought in by a big creditor, Ben Holladay.</p> - -<p>Great things were expected of Ben Holladay. Dave -had seen him once or twice—a large, heavy man, with -square, resolute face; clean-shaven cheeks, and gray<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_325"></a>[325]</span> -beard. He was a veteran freighter and trader on the -plains, and had been in business in Salt Lake, California, -St. Louis and New York, and was a hustler. -He hastened to increase the service of his stage line. -No expense or trouble was too much for him. The -line was known now as “Ben Holladay’s Line,” and -“The Overland Stage.” The old route north from -Julesburg and around by Fort Laramie was changed -to a shorter route (the route which Mr. Baxter had -helped survey for Russell, Majors & Waddell at the -time when he picked up Dave at Laramie), which from -Latham, sixty miles north of Denver, veering northwest -crossed the mountains at Bridger’s Pass for Salt -Lake. At Salt Lake the celebrated Pioneer Stage Line -continued with passengers and mail and express for -Placerville, California.</p> - -<p>The very fall after Dave arrived in Denver Mr. -Creighton finished his telegraph line into Salt Lake -City, and won the $40,000 a year prize offered by the -Government. The California company met him there; -the first message was flashed through from coast to -coast (“The Pacific to the Atlantic sends greeting,” -it said; “and may both oceans be dry before a foot of -all the land that lies between shall belong to any other -than a united country”); and, as Captain Brown had -predicted, the Pony Express must stop. The Holladay -stages carried the mails.</p> - -<p>Every morning at eight o’clock sharp they left -Atchison below St. Joseph on the Missouri River;<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_326"></a>[326]</span> -at Latham the Salt Lake coaches proceeded on to Salt -Lake and the Denver coaches turned south to Denver—and -usually got in with such regularity that Denver -people set their watches by them! There never had -been such a stage coach magnate as Ben Holladay. -His six- and nine-passenger Concord coaches were the -best that could be built—and on the main line alone -he used 100. His horses were the best that could be -bought—and of these and of mules he had, on the -main line, 3000. His drivers were paid the best salaries—$125 -and $150 a month. And for carrying the -mails he received from the Government $650,000 a -year. When, several times a year, he went over his -whole lines he travelled like a whirlwind and caused a -tremendous commotion.</p> - -<p>But speedily the regular operation of the Holladay -Overland Express was badly interrupted, for the Indians -began to ravage up and down. All the way -from central Kansas to the mountains they destroyed -stations and attacked stages. The stages ran two at -a time, for company, and were protected by squads -of soldiers; but even then they did not always get -through, and Denver was cut off from the outside -world for weeks at a time. Whenever Mr. Baxter -started out as messenger Dave was afraid that he -would not come back alive; but somehow he managed -to make the trip, although he was apt to return in a -coach riddled with arrows and bullets.</p> - -<p>The summer of 1864, when Davy was almost seventeen<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_327"></a>[327]</span> -and old enough to enter the Military Academy, -was the worst season of all for Indian raids. Stations -and ranches for hundreds of miles at a stretch were -pillaged, and the stages ceased altogether between the -mountains and the Missouri. Then, in the fall, there -came a lull—of which Dave was heartily glad, for he -had been ordered to report at Fort Leavenworth for -examination. His appointment had come, signed by -Abraham Lincoln.</p> - -<p>“I’ll see you through to Atchison, Dave,” said -Mr. Baxter; “and to Leavenworth, too. The return -trip will be my last run.”</p> - -<p>“Why so, Ben?” asked Davy, astonished.</p> - -<p>“Because I’m going to change to a more permanent -business while I can. The railways are coming. The -Central Pacific’s building a little every year east out -of California, and as soon as the war’s over the Union -Pacific will start from its end, at the Missouri. When -the two roads meet, with trains running across the -continent, this staging business will be knocked flat, -and we messengers will be stranded. I’ve got my -health now; I’m as good a man as anybody, and when -I get back from Atchison I’ll go into something different. -I’ve several offers pending. See?”</p> - -<p>That sounded like sense; but Dave was pleased -that Mr. Baxter had not quit before this trip, for he -had counted on going out in Ben’s coach.</p> - -<p>The fare from Denver to the Missouri River was -up to $175, but Davy had saved this, and more. The<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_328"></a>[328]</span> -stages left from the Planters’ Hotel. The first stage -out, after the long interruption, created much excitement. -At least fifty passengers clamored for places, -but there was room for only nine in the body—and -even they were crowded by mail sacks. Dave sat on -the driver’s box with Ben and the driver, who was -Bob Hodge.</p> - -<p>Everybody on the line knew Bob Hodge; he was one -of the “king whips,” and very popular. The Holladay -stage drivers out of the principal stations dressed -the best that they could, for they were persons of consequence. -Polished boots, broadcloth trousers tucked -in, soft silk shirts with diamond stud, rakish hat and -kid gloves were none too good for them. Bob wore a -suit of buckskin—with its decorations of beads and -fringes, the finest suit in Denver. As he stepped from -the hotel he elegantly drew on a pair of new yellow -kid gloves. He nodded to Ben and Dave, and tucked -a brass horn, which was his pride, in the seat. On this -horn he was accustomed to perform when he wanted -amusement and when he approached stations. His -other pride was his whip—of ebony handle inlaid with -silver. All the Holladay stage drivers owned their -whips and would not lend them.</p> - -<p>Bob climbed aboard, Ben and Dave followed. Two -hostlers held the six-horse team by the bits; another -handed up the lines to Bob—who condescended to receive -them.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_329"></a>[329]</span></p> - -<p>“Think she’ll get through, Bob?” queried several -voices, referring to the coach.</p> - -<p>“Oh, I reckon. She’s been through several times -before,” drawled Bob.</p> - -<p>And by the looks of “her,” she evidently had been -through something. It had been a beautiful coach, in -the beginning, painted a glossy bright green, trimmed -with gilt; but now it was scarred by storm and Indians. -The very boot curtain behind Dave’s feet was punctured -in two places by arrows, and there were other -holes through the coach sides.</p> - -<p>Bob glanced at his gold watch. He grasped lines -and whip, nodded at the hostlers (they sprang from the -leaders’ bits), released the heavy brake with a bang; -to the crack of his whip forward leaped the six gray -horses, whose harness was adorned with ivory rings. -The watching crowd gave a cheer, and, driving with -one hand, Bob played what he called “Into the Wilderness.”</p> - -<p>Bob’s run was only to Latham, sixty miles down -the Platte. Here he descended, in lordly fashion, from -his seat—and out of the coach must issue the passengers, -much to their disgust. The mails from the -west had been piling up for six weeks, and were of more -importance than people. Forty-one sacks were stored -aboard by the station agent, until the coach was heaped -to the roof, and the big boot was overflowing. The -coach now carried a ton of mail—and Ben, Davy and -the driver.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_330"></a>[330]</span></p> - -<p>Express messengers rode an entire division, such -as between Atchison and Denver, between Denver and -Salt Lake, and between Salt Lake and Placerville of -California. So Ben continued on, with Dave as his -guest. The new driver was “Long Slim”—another -odd character. “Long Slim” was six feet three inches -tall, and so thin that he claimed when he stood sideways -he wouldn’t cast a shadow. He was much different -from dandy Bob Hodge; for he wore cowhide -boots, a blue army overcoat, and a buffalo fur cap.</p> - -<p>Long Slim drove to Bijou Station, and here another -driver took charge. Stage drivers drove forty or -fifty miles, or from “home” station to “home” -station. In between, about every ten miles, were the -“swing” stations, where the teams were changed. -Meals were served at the home stations.</p> - -<p>The change of drivers was interesting, and really -made little difference to Dave, for none of them talked -much; and as the coach rolled further eastward into -the Indian country the talk was less and less. At the -swing stations the teams were always standing, harnessed -and waiting. The driver grandly tossed down -the lines and yawned; the old team was whisked out -in a jiffy, the new team trotted into place without being -told, the station men handed up the lines to the box, -and away went the stage again.</p> - -<p>At the home stations the driver—“Long Slim,” -or “Deacon,” or “Dad,” or “Mizzou,” or whatever -he was called, followed his lines to the ground, said<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_331"></a>[331]</span> -(if he chose): “All quiet so far, Hank,” and strolled -into the station. If he mentioned a drink of water, -half the station force rushed to get it for him. He was -a king, was the driver on the Overland Stage!</p> - -<p>At Bijou Station, six soldiers of the Colorado cavalry -picked up the stage and escorted it, riding three -on a side, for about 100 miles. At least they were -there when Davy peeked out of the boot under the -driver’s seat, where he slept, curled in a ball, very comfortably, -while the coach rocked and swayed through -the night.</p> - -<p>The Seventh Iowa Cavalry next took the stage, -galloping and trotting beside it down the trail along -the Platte River.</p> - -<p>The stage stations and the ranches looked as if -they had been having a tough time. Most of the ranch -buildings were in ruins and abandoned; many of the -stage stations had been burned, and the station men -were living in dug-outs, some of which were merely -holes in the ground, roofed over with a pile of dirt -loop-holed for rifles. Meals at the home stations were -$1.50, cooked by the station agents’ brave wives or -by the men themselves. Some of the meals were very -poor, too—and some astonishingly good.</p> - -<p>All went well with the stage until between Cottonwood -and Fort Kearney the driver, who was known -as “Waupsie,” pointed to the south with his whip.</p> - -<p>“There they are,” he said quietly; and instantly -flung out his lash.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_332"></a>[332]</span></p> - -<p>The silken snapper cracked like a pistol shot, and -out launched the team. Down from a low row of -sandy buttes half a mile to the south and ahead were -speeding a bevy of dark dots. Davy’s heart skipped -a beat. The dots were making for the trail, as if to -cut off the coach. They were Indians, sure.</p> - -<p>“What’ll we do, Waupsie?” asked Ben, coolly. -“Beat ’em in?”</p> - -<p>“We’ll do the best we can. Six miles to go is all,” -answered Waupsie, in grim manner. And he yelled -to the cavalrymen: “You’ll have to ride faster than -that, boys.”</p> - -<p>The corporal in charge of the squad had spoken -gruffly. Three before, three behind, the soldiers were -rising and falling in their stirrups and urging on their -horses. The grade was slightly down hill, and it was -evident that the cavalry horses were no match for the -stage team—six splendid blacks, grain fed and long-legged. -Soon the coach gradually drew even with the -leading soldiers and began to pass them in spite of their -efforts.</p> - -<p>“Can’t wait,” yelled Waupsie, “Goodby. Fact -is,” he remarked, half to himself, “I can’t hold ’em. -Drat their skins!”</p> - -<p>The whoops of the Indians were plainly heard; the -breeze was from the south, and as if smelling the red -enemy the stage horses were wild with fear. Braced, -Waupsie sawed on the lines; his foot pressed the brake -hard, but he might as well have saved his strength.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_333"></a>[333]</span></p> - -<p>Waupsie had no time or opportunity to use a gun; -his business was to drive. Ben cocked his shot-gun -lying across his knees.</p> - -<p>“Get in the boot, Dave,” he bade.</p> - -<p>Davy started to slide under, but stopped ashamed. -In a rush the Indians, whooping and frantically brandishing -bows and lances, charged the trail, cutting in -behind, and racing on both sides before. The cavalry -squad were now far in the rear.</p> - -<p>With a thud an arrow landed full in the coach side; -another quivered in the flank of the off wheel horse—and -he leaped prodigiously.</p> - -<p>“Steady! Steady, boys!” besought Waupsie.</p> - -<p>The arrows were hissing and thudding. The -painted Indians looked like demons. Ben flung up his -gun, took hasty aim, and at the report the nearest -Indian on the left (a particularly determined fellow) -swerved away, reeling in his saddle pad. Red spots -could be seen on his side where the buck-shot had -struck. At the rear the cavalrymen were shooting -vainly, and suddenly Waupsie gave an exclamation.</p> - -<p>“Take these lines, quick!” he said. “Confound -it!”</p> - -<p>An arrow had pinned his right arm to his side. He -jerked at it and could not budge it, and Ben grabbed -the lines.</p> - -<p>“You take my gun, Dave,” he ordered. “Don’t -shoot unless you have to; and then shoot the ponies. -Fight ’em off.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_334"></a>[334]</span></p> - -<p>Dave promptly seized the gun from Ben’s lap, and -at once he saw the reason in the last order. The Indians -were racing on either side; whenever he raised -the gun to aim every Indian on that side ducked to the -opposite flank of his horse, and left only a moccasin -sole in sight. That was a small mark at which to aim -from a jolting coach. Dave aimed and aimed again; -whenever he paused, up bobbed the Indians; when he -pointed the gun at them, down they ducked; and all -the time they were shooting from underneath their -ponies’ necks or from the saddle.</p> - -<p>“<a href="#i_fp334">That’s right. Fight ’em off, Davy.</a> It’s as good -as emptying your gun,” panted Ben, hanging hard to -the lines. Waupsie was plying the whip—now and -then to drop it and level his revolver.</p> - -<div class="figcenter" id="i_fp334"> - <img src="images/i_fp334.jpg" alt="" title="" /> - <div class="caption"> - <p class="noic"><a href="#Page_334">“THAT’S RIGHT. FIGHT ’EM OFF, DAVY”</a></p> - </div> -</div> - -<p>“Fight ’em off, Davy!”</p> - -<p>A sharp shock almost paralyzed Dave’s right arm, -and through shoulder and arm surged a red-hot pain. -He nearly dropped the gun. He glanced at his shoulder -and saw a flush of crimson dyeing his shirt. But no -arrow was sticking there as he had feared. It was -only a gash. All right.</p> - -<p>“Hurt, Dave?” queried Ben.</p> - -<p>“No, not much,” said Davy, firmly.</p> - -<p>“We’ll make it,” uttered Waupsie. “Got to. -Fight ’em off, boys!”</p> - -<p>The sandy plain flowed past; another horse had -been wounded and the coach was fairly bristling with -shafts. But the gallant team never slackened their<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_335"></a>[335]</span> -furious pace, and suddenly with a final chorus of -whoops and a last volley, the Indians turned and raced -away; for yonder, around the turn, appeared the home -station.</p> - -<p>“Humph!” muttered Waupsie. “Those Injuns -are just on a lark. Now I’ll get quit of this arrow.”</p> - -<p>The cavalry squad did not arrive until after the -coach had left; another squad escorted it to Fort -Kearney, and by the time Atchison was reached, two -days afterward, Dave’s shoulder was beginning to -heal.</p> - -<p>“It doesn’t hurt much, really, Ben,” he insisted; -but he was proud of his wound. The scar he carries -to-day and other scars besides.</p> - -<p>From Atchison he and Ben went down to Leavenworth. -On the street at Leavenworth a hand clapped -him on his shoulder (fortunately his well shoulder), -and looking up he looked into the face of Billy Cody.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_336"></a>[336]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="XXIV">XXIV<br /> -<small>BUFFALO BILL IS CHAMPION</small></h2> -</div> - - -<p>It was not “Little Billy Cody” now—the slender -boy whose boots had seemed too large for him even -when he was riding Pony Express. It was “Scout -Cody”—a man with wide, piercing brown eyes, long -wavy yellow hair, a silky light-brown moustache, a -pair of broad shoulders above a wiry waist, and an -alert, springy step. But he was “Billy Cody” after all.</p> - -<p>He and Wild Bill Hickok had been serving together -with the Union army in Missouri and Arkansas; and -now he was at Leavenworth on a furlough from detached -duty at St. Louis.</p> - -<p>He could give Davy only a half hour; Davy heard -some of his adventures and learned also that “Mother -Cody” had gone (what a brave, sweet woman she had -been!), and that the Cody home in Salt Creek Valley -had been broken up. Truly, the West was undergoing -great changes.</p> - -<p>Greater changes still occurred in the next three -years. Dave entered West Point in June of the next -summer, 1865, and for the succeeding two years he -studied hard. When he was given his furlough he -spent part of it with General Brown, who, luckily, was -stationed at Fort Leavenworth.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_337"></a>[337]</span></p> - -<p>The two years at the Military Academy had formed -a different boy of Dave. The strict discipline had -taught him how to make the most of his time, and the -constant drill exercises had straightened him up and -trained all his muscles as well as his mind. He felt -quite like a man as he shook hands with the general -and met his approving eye.</p> - -<p>One of his first questions to the general, after the -greetings and polite inquiries, was about Billy Cody.</p> - -<p>“‘Billy’ Cody, you say?” laughed the general. -“Haven’t you been reading the papers?”</p> - -<p>“I’m afraid I haven’t, general,” confessed Dave. -“We don’t have much time to read the papers at the -Academy, you know.”</p> - -<p>“That’s so,” chuckled the general. “You don’t. -But your friend and mine, Billy Cody, has a new name. -He’s now ‘Buffalo Bill.’ He’s been supplying buffalo -meat to the grading contractors on the Kansas Pacific. -They need about twelve buffalo a day, and he took the -job for $500 a month. It’s been a dangerous business, -and he hunts alone out on the plains, with one -man following in a wagon to do the butchering and -load the meat, and the Indians are always trying to get -Bill’s scalp. So far he’s outwitted them, and he’s been -bringing in the meat so regularly that at night when -he rides in the boys in the camps yell: ‘Here comes -old Bill with more buffalo!’ and ‘Buffalo Bill’ he is. -He’s been married, too, you know.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_338"></a>[338]</span></p> - -<p>“Oh, has he?” And Dave spoke impulsively. -“I’d like to see him mighty well.”</p> - -<p>“You can. The railroad’s running trains about -500 miles west from the river, nearly to Sheridan, and -you’ve got here just in time to go along with us and -see a big contest between Buffalo Bill and Billy Comstock, -the chief of scouts at Fort Wallace there. -They’re to hunt buffalo together for eight hours, and -the one who kills the most wins a nice little purse of -$500, gold. Billy Comstock is a fine young fellow, a -great hunter and a crack shot—but I’ll back Buffalo -Bill.”</p> - -<p>So, thought Dave, loyally, would he, too.</p> - -<p>The contest had excited great interest. An excursion -for friends of the rivals and for sight-seers -was to be run clear through from St. Louis. Every -army officer and soldier who could leave was going -from Fort Leavenworth. Leader of all was General -George A. Custer, the famous “Boy General with the -Golden Locks” (as during the war the newspapers -had called him), who with his fighting Seventh Cavalry -had arrived at Fort Leavenworth after a summer’s -campaign on the plains. Of course, everybody in army -circles knew about General Custer, the dashing cavalryman, -with his curling yellow hair and his crimson tie. -Introduced to him by General Brown, Dave blushed -and stammered and felt that he must cut a very poor -figure.</p> - -<p>It seemed strange that a railroad actually was on<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_339"></a>[339]</span> -its way across the plains. In fact, there were two railroads -jutting out from the Missouri River for the -farther West. Northward from Omaha the celebrated -Union Pacific had built clear to Julesburg, and -was hustling along to Utah at the rate of five and six -miles a day. It followed the old Overland Trail up -the Platte, and ate the stages as it progressed.</p> - -<p>Here at the southward the Kansas Pacific, or -“Eastern Division” of the Union Pacific, was reaching -westward out of Leavenworth for Denver. It -followed the Smoky Hill Fork Trail taken by the Hee-Haw -Express—the memorable outfit of Dave’s and -Billy’s and Mr. Baxter’s, and all, to the “Pike’s Peak -Country” and the “Cherry Creek diggin’s.” Yes, it -did seem strange to Dave to be riding that trail in a -train of cars drawn by a snorting steam-engine and -crowded with laughing, shouting people—travelling in -an hour a distance that would have required from the -Hee-Haw Express a day, perhaps! But the Hee-Haw -Express had not been such a bad experience after all, -and it had been fun as well as work.</p> - -<p>Gracious, how Kansas had settled! The Salt Creek -Valley, people said, was all taken up by farms. The -railroad route from Leavenworth down to the Kansas -River at Lawrence certainly passed through nothing -but farms and settlements, and on up the Kansas to -the Smoky Hill Fork at Junction City all the country -was farms, farms, farms, punctuated by towns and -cities.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_340"></a>[340]</span></p> - -<p>Along the Smoky Hill Fork trail a number of new -forts had been established, protecting the way for the -railroad. First beyond Fort Riley, which Davy remembered -from the time when the Hee-Haws passed -it, was Fort Harker, next would come Fort Hays, and -then Fort Wallace near Sheridan.</p> - -<p>The train left Leavenworth early in the morning; -the run to the end of the track would take about -twenty-five hours, with stops for meals. It would -appear, from the looks of the country between Lawrence -and Junction City across the river from Fort -Riley, that there were no more wild Indians and buffalo; -but westward from Junction City things suddenly -changed; and when Dave awakened from a brief -doze here were the same old brown plains again, ready -for the bull whacker, the stage coach, the buffalo and -the Indians.</p> - -<p>The train was jammed with all kinds of people -from St. Louis, Kansas City, Leavenworth, Lawrence, -Topeka—everybody having a good time. In the last -car were Mrs. Cody and little daughter Arta. Davy -had a glimpse of her—a handsome woman with glowing -dark eyes. Buffalo Bill had met her during the -war, in St. Louis, and they had been married two years -now. She and little Arta and General Custer were -the main attraction on the whole train.</p> - -<p>The train was a travelling arsenal. At the front -end of Davy’s car was a stand containing twenty-five -breech-loading rifles and a large chest of cartridges,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_341"></a>[341]</span> -with the lid opened. The conductor (who, people -said, was an old Indian fighter) wore two revolvers -at his waist, and carried his rifle from car to car. -Almost every man was armed with some sort of a gun, -and all the passengers and train crew were constantly -on the lookout for “Injuns” and buffalo. As the -train roared onward further into the plains, its snorty, -busy little engine sounded five short whistles. Out -from the windows down the line of coaches were thrust -heads. Men who had no gun made a rush for the -stand of arms, and grabbed rifles and cartridges.</p> - -<p>“Buffalo! Buffalo!”</p> - -<p>“Where? Quick!”</p> - -<p>“There they go!”</p> - -<p>“Where? Oh, I see them!”</p> - -<p>“Mercy, what monsters!”</p> - -<p>There were people aboard who actually never had -seen a buffalo.</p> - -<p>“What beards!”</p> - -<p>“Are those really buffalo?”</p> - -<p>“Shoot!”</p> - -<p>“Conductor! Stop the train!”</p> - -<p>Bang! Bangity-bang! Bang! Bang! Everybody -who could get a glimpse poked his gun out of a -window and fired. Two big buffalo bulls were racing -the train; heads down, tails up, trying to cross in front -of it. The rain of bullets had not touched them. One -crossed; but the other suddenly whirled on the track -and charged the engine. The cow-catcher lifted him<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_342"></a>[342]</span> -high—Davy had sight of his great shaggy shape turning -a somersault in the air, and funny enough he -looked, too, with mane and tail flying. He landed with -a thump; people laughed so that they forgot to shoot -again until too late; and gazing back Davy was glad -to witness him scramble to his feet, shake himself, and -glare after the train and bellow defiance.</p> - -<p>It struck Dave as rather of a shame to pepper the -buffalo from the windows of a moving train—which, -he heard, sometimes did not even stop to make use -of the meat, but left the carcasses lying for the wolves. -Dusk soon settled, so that there was little more shooting. -With a stop for water and supper, on through -the darkness rumbled the train. The passengers slept -in their seats—an uncomfortable way, but they did -not mind. Judging from the looks of Forts Harker -and Hays, which were merely log cabins with sod -roofs, the cars were the best place.</p> - -<p>The talk among the passengers was mainly of buffalo -and of the Indians (who had been fighting the -advance of the railroad through their hunting-grounds), -and of the match between Buffalo Bill Cody -and Scout Will Comstock.</p> - -<p>As for Will Comstock, the people said that he was -a young fellow with the figure of a mere boy and the -face of a girl—but that no braver scout ever rode the -plains. However, Billy Cody seemed to have the majority. -He had been making a great record since the -war. He had driven stage for a little while on the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_343"></a>[343]</span> -Overland Trail; then he had married; and soon he was -scouting again for the army on the Smoky Hill Trail. -He had guided General Custer on a dangerous trip -out of Fort Harker, and had been guide and dispatch -bearer out of Fort Hays, and nobody except Wild Bill -(who was a scout on this line, too) was thought to be -quite his equal.</p> - -<p>Almost as famous as Buffalo Bill were his buffalo -horse, Brigham, and his rifle, Lucretia; against these -three Billy Comstock, good as he was, did not stand -much show.</p> - -<p>It was a jolly excursion crowd this: soldiers and -civilians, city people and country people, residents and -tourists, men, women and some children, all packed -tight and bent on seeing the “big match” advertised -to take place between Buffalo Bill Cody and Will -Comstock, the other famous scout.</p> - -<p>Early in the morning the tracks ended about twenty -miles this side of Sheridan. And here, on the open -prairie, were gathered an astonishing amount of vehicles, -animals and horsemen. The spot looked like a -land opening—or a picnic. Davy recognized Billy -Cody at once.</p> - -<p>With a group of army officers, scouts in buckskin, -and other horsemen, Billy was sitting on his horse at -the edge of the mass of carriages. The train-load of -excursionists fairly burst from the cars, even climbing -out through the windows, and made a rush for the -vehicles. Davy forged ahead for Billy Cody. Billy<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_344"></a>[344]</span> -had left his horse and when Davy saw him next he was -gallantly escorting his wife and little daughter to an -army ambulance; as he came back Dave caught him.</p> - -<p>“Hello, Billy.”</p> - -<p>“By thunder! That name sounds familiar, -Dave! Well, I’m certainly glad to see you.”</p> - -<p>They gripped hands. As Buffalo Bill, Billy looked -older than he had as Scout Cody, even, during the war. -His face had been bronzed deeper by hard plains -riding, day and night, and on his firm chin he wore a -little goatee. His suit of Indian tanned buckskin was -beaded and fringed, and fitted him to perfection. A -fine figure of a man he was, too; every inch of him.</p> - -<p>There was little time to exchange greetings or -words. Everything was confusion—and the day -would soon pass.</p> - -<p>“Go in and win, Billy.”</p> - -<p>“You bet I will, Dave.”</p> - -<p>And with that Billy strode hastily back to his -horse—brushing by the many hands held out to stay -him a moment.</p> - -<p>The match was to last from eight in the morning -to four in the afternoon if buffalo could be found. -Slim and active, and as picturesque as Buffalo Bill -himself, General Custer, from horseback, announced -in a loud voice that the spectators were to follow the -hunters until the herd was sighted and then must stay -behind so as not to alarm the buffalo, until the shooting<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_345"></a>[345]</span> -had begun. After that they might go as near as -they pleased.</p> - -<p>Buffalo Bill and Scout Comstock led away; behind -them rode the horsemen, chiefly scouts and army officers. -A large bunch of cavalry mounts had been sent -out from Fort Wallace, near Sheridan, for the visitor -officers, and Davy (who was almost an officer) was -accorded the courtesy of one. So he was well fixed. -Trailing the horsemen came the excursionists in army -ambulances and old coaches and spring wagons and -even buggies—raked and scraped from far and near.</p> - -<p>Thus they all proceeded across the rolling prairie. -The scene resembled a picnic more than ever.</p> - -<p>Buffalo Bill, the talk said, was riding Brigham, his -favorite buffalo runner—and a scrubby looking horse -Brigham was, too, for a hunter and a racer. Billy’s -gun was a heavy, long-barrelled single-shot—a breech-loading -Springfield army gun of fifty calibre.</p> - -<p>Will Comstock was apparently much better -mounted and better armed. His horse was a strong, -active, spirited black, and his gun was a Henry repeating -carbine. He himself seemed a young fellow -to be chief of scouts at Fort Wallace; his face was -smooth and fair, his eyes roundly blue, and his waist -was as small as a girl’s.</p> - -<p>Suddenly Buffalo Bill raised his hand; and at the -instant a hum of excitement welled from the crowd. -There were some buffalo—there, about a mile ahead -on the right, a good-sized herd, peacefully grazing.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_346"></a>[346]</span> -Away sped Buffalo Bill and Scout Comstock and two -other horsemen, to get to the windward. The two -other horsemen were the referees, one to accompany -each hunter and keep tab on him.</p> - -<p>The rest of the crowd followed slowly, so as to give -the hunters plenty of time to begin.</p> - -<p>On and on spurred the group of four. They -swerved for the buffalo herd; and separating, as if by -agreement, into pairs, dashed into the herd that way—Buffalo -Bill and his referee on the right, Scout Comstock -and his referee on the left. As soon as the first -shot echoed back across the prairie, the cry went up: -“They’re in! They’re in!” and wildly excited, -straight for the field broke the eager spectators.</p> - -<p>The wagons jounced and bounded, the horses and -mules snorted, women screamed, men shouted—and -better equipped than those other excursionists, on horseback -amidst his army friends Davy forged to the -front.</p> - -<p>When they arrived the contest was well under way. -Scout Comstock had ridden almost out of sight, pelting -along and shooting into the rear of his bunch. He -had left a trail of dead buffalo, as if he had made every -shot count. Buffalo Bill, however, was right here, -working by a different system. Evidently he had -hastened to the head of his bunch first, and turned them—until -now he had them all actually running in a -small circle. He was riding around the outside at an -easy lope on Brigham, and steadily firing, oftentimes<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_347"></a>[347]</span> -without raising his gun from across the saddle horn.</p> - -<p>Brigham’s bridle lines were hanging loose. He -needed no guiding. He knew just what was to be done. -He loped to the side of a buffalo and stayed there a -moment until the gun went “Bang!” Then, even before -the buffalo had fallen, he loped on to another, put -his master in good position, and at the report of the -rifle continued to the next!</p> - -<p>“A wonderful horse! A wonderful horse!” -ejaculated General Brown. “Why, teach that horse -to shoot and he wouldn’t need a rider. Bill could sit -and look on!”</p> - -<p>“He nurses the buffalo together and all Bill has to -do is to load and fire. He scarcely needs to aim,” said -another officer.</p> - -<p>Presently Buffalo Bill had shot down every buffalo -in the bunch; there were thirty-eight, dead as doornails. -When Bill Comstock returned, his horse blown, -from chasing his bunch as far as he could, his referee -reported twenty-three as that count.</p> - -<p>The horses were rested until another herd appeared. -Out of this Buffalo Bill killed eighteen with the help -of old Brigham, and Billy Comstock killed fourteen. -So at noon the score stood: Buffalo Bill (and -Brigham), fifty-six; Billy Comstock only thirty-seven.</p> - -<p>Luncheon was spread out on the prairie by the excursionists -and everybody ate. The opinion was that -Buffalo Bill had won; Billy Comstock never could catch -up—not even if they traded horses!</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_348"></a>[348]</span></p> - -<p>After luncheon Buffalo Bill suddenly stood, and, -going to Brigham, quickly stripped him of saddle and -bridle.</p> - -<p>“Ladies and gentlemen,” announced Billy, “in -order to give my friend Comstock a chance I’m going -to finish my hunt without saddle and bridle—and -even then I’ll wager I’ll down more buffalo than he -will.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, Mr. Cody! Please don’t!” begged one of -the women excursionists, who had been nervous all -along. “You’ll certainly be hurt.”</p> - -<p>Buffalo Bill smiled and shook his head.</p> - -<p>“There’s not the slightest cause for alarm,” he -said. “I’ve ridden this way many a time. Old -Brigham knows as well as I what’s to be done—and -sometimes a great deal better.”</p> - -<p>Riding thus without saddle and bridle, out of the -next herd Buffalo Bill, so cleverly guided by Brigham, -easily killed thirteen more buffaloes. The last he drove -with a rush straight toward the spectators, and laughed -as he downed it almost at their feet. Slipping from -his bareback seat, he doffed his hat and bowed.</p> - -<p>“You see?” he bade.</p> - -<p>Scout Comstock came in with a count of only nine.</p> - -<p>“I’m done,” he said frankly. “How many in all, -Bill?”</p> - -<p>“Sixty-nine.”</p> - -<p>“Forty-six here.” And he shrugged his slender -shoulders. “Well, Bill, you’re a wonder. There’s not<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_349"></a>[349]</span> -another man on the plains could have done it. Ladies -and gentlemen,” he called, “three cheers for Buffalo -Bill Cody, the boy ‘extra,’ the kid express rider, the -champion buffalo hunter, and the best man that ever -rode the plains.”</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>The excursion train returned that night, and Davy -returned with it. But Buffalo Bill stayed out on the -plains, scouting for the army against the Indians. -Davy kept track of him, for the name of “Buffalo -Bill,” dispatch bearer and guide, was constantly in the -papers. When in June, 1869, Davy graduated from -the Military Academy, and soon was assigned to the -Fifth Cavalry in Nebraska, Buffalo Bill had been appointed -by General Phil Sheridan as chief of scouts -to serve with it.</p> - -<p>This spring the Union Pacific Railway had met the -Central Pacific Railway in Utah and the tracks joined. -The Overland Trail had been spanned at last by iron -rails; but there was still much work to be done to make -the plains safe for the settler, his home, his church and -his school-house; and helping to do it, Dave and -Buffalo Bill often rode together, man and man.</p> - - - - -<hr class="chapv" /> -<div class="tnote"> -<p class="noi tntitle">Transcriber’s Notes:</p> - -<p class="smfont">Except for the frontispiece and portrait, illustrations have been - moved to follow the text that they illustrate, so the page number of the - illustration may not match the page number in the Illustrations.</p> - -<p class="smfont">Printer’s, punctuation and spelling inaccuracies were silently - corrected.</p> - -<p class="smfont">Archaic and variable spelling has been preserved.</p> - -<p class="smfont">Variations in hyphenation and compound words have been preserved.</p> -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BUFFALO BILL AND THE OVERLAND TRAIL ***</div> -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>This file should be named 64231-h.htm or 64231-h.zip</div> -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>This and all associated files of various formats will be found in https://www.gutenberg.org/6/4/2/3/64231/</div> -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will -be renamed. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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