Читать книгу The Awakening of the Desert - Julius Charles Birge - Страница 10

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"Lives of great men all remind us

We can make our lives sublime,

And departing leave behind us,

Footprints on the sands of time."

IT was in the gray light of the quiet early dawn, when all members of the camp except one were in peaceful slumber, that these familiar lines of Longfellow's heartening lyric were suddenly howled forth from the interior of Fred's tent. Coupled with the ill-mated refrain,

"Co chee co lunk che lunk chelaly,"

that dignified stanza had been often sung by boys like Fred, who persistently turned the serious things of life to levity. Because of frequent showers it had been really decided to make an early morning start, if conditions should prove favorable. Ordinarily Fred did not aspire to catch the worm, and in fact, after rousing the camp he lapsed back into his blanket and was the last man out for further service, in remarkable fulfillment of the famous Scripture. He had brought his companion, Ben, to his feet, who inflicted on him some harmless punishment for his breach of the peace.

Aroused by Fred's ill-timed outburst, I poked my head outside my wagon cover and surveyed the situation. The white-covered prairie schooners were parked in a row, as they had been on the preceding night. The two little tents, one of which sheltered the venerable deacon, stood side by side. Not far distant our horses were picketed by ropes. At this first indication of human activity, the faithful animals one by one scrambled to their feet, shook their manes, and doubtless expected the usual supply of morning oats, in which expectation they were doomed to disappointment, for hereafter they had to make an honest living by foraging on the country. There was sufficient light to reveal the sparkling of the heavy dew upon the grass. Fred's matin song had accomplished its purpose, and many good-natured but vigorous epithets were thundered toward his tent by members of the party as they emerged from their wagons, and he himself was finally pulled forth from his lair.

It seems needless to state that to some members of our party who were early pioneers of Wisconsin, a primeval forest, or a broad, virgin prairie was not an unfamiliar sight. Nevertheless, there was something in the expanse of the Nebraska plains as they then were, before the farmer had desecrated them, that was wonderfully impressive. The almost boundless stretch of undulating green extended in every direction to the horizon, at times unrelieved by a single tree or shrub, and only now and then we observed the winding course of some little stream indicated by a narrow line of small timber half hidden in the valley, whose inclined and stunted growth told of the sweeping winds that had rocked them. Even those thin green lines were few and far between.

Bryant beautifully described this type of scenery when he wrote of the prairies:

"Lo, they stretch

In airy undulations far away,

As if the ocean in its gentlest swell

Stood still, with all its billows fixed

And motionless forever."

We finally reached a little, solitary sod hut, which a pioneer had recently constructed. Not another work of man was visible in any direction. If Cowper sighing "for a lodge in some vast wilderness" had been placed in control of this sequestered cabin, his ardent desire would have been fully realized. It seemed as if it might well afford to any one grown weary of the wrong and outrage with which earth is filled, a spot where he might spend his remaining days in unbroken peace and quietude. But no! this cabin was but a little speck in advance of the on-coming tide of human life whose silent flow we had seen slowly but steadily creeping westward across the Iowa prairies. Thousands of men released from service in the army were turning to the West for homes, and the tens of thousands of foreigners landing at the Atlantic ports were then as now spreading over the country, adding volume and momentum to the westward movement.

The following night found us beside a little brook, on the banks of which wild strawberries were abundant. Our horses were picketed on the range, each being tied with a rope fifty feet in length, attached to an iron pin driven into the ground, as was the usual custom. Aleck Freeman, however, concluded to tie the lariat of one of his horses to the head of a nearby skeleton of an ox. In fact, Aleck commented duly upon his own sagacity in conceiving that idea. All went well until the horse in pulling upon the rope, detached the skull from the remaining vertebrae. The animal seemed to be mystified on observing the head approach him as he receded, and for a moment regarded it thoughtfully and inquiringly. Backing still further away, he gazed with growing apprehension at the white skull, which continued to pursue him at a uniform distance. The horse evidently was unable to comprehend the cause of this strange proceeding and, like a child frightened at an apparition which it does not understand, his first impulse was to escape. He therefore gave a vigorous snort, wheeled, and with head high in the air, suddenly started southward toward the Gulf of Mexico. The faster the horse ran, the louder rattled the skull behind him. An occasional backward glance of the flying animal revealed to him the same white skull still pursuing, and at times leaping threateningly into the air as it was pulled over any slight obstruction; and thus they sped wildly away until they disappeared from sight. Aleck watched the affair from afar with dismay. What could stop the flight of this Pegasus but sheer exhaustion? It was soon many miles away. Securing another steed and starting in pursuit, he too was soon lost to view. In the late hours of the night he returned to camp leading the tired runaway, and himself too tired and hungry to tell his story until morning. It seems that about seven or eight miles away the skull had caught in a cottonwood bush, which was fortunately on an upward grade and the speed of the horse was temporarily slackened. The animal doubtless believed that the skull for the moment had stopped its pursuit, that it also was very weary. The horse when reached was well fastened and easily captured. Aleck urged that the Government authorities should have cottonwood bushes set out on all the hills of Nebraska, and that the heads of all carcasses on the prairie should be securely tied to the rest of the skeleton.

Violent storms of wind and driving rain, accompanied by terrific lightning, forced us at noon to camp in the mud beside a swollen brook. We endeavored to build a fire in the wet grass, for we sighed for coffee. The combined skill of our best hunters failed to start a blaze. We were wet to the skin, and our saturated boots with trousers inside, down which the water ran in streams, were loaded with black Nebraskan mud; for every man had been out in the storm to picket his horses securely, as they were uneasy during the tempest. The few chunks of tough bread culled from the remnant found in the mess box served but little that night to fill the aching voids.

Not far away on a hill slope was an unoccupied frame house not yet completed. This building, which was about twenty-five miles west from Nebraska City, was the last farmhouse that we passed, but even here there was no sign of cultivation. To this, as the day was closing, we plowed our way through the mud, for the storms continued. Its partly finished roof furnished us a welcome protection through the following stormy night. A peck of shavings more or less was equitably distributed among the party for bedding, but there were no facilities for building a fire without igniting the structure itself. On the floor we endeavored, with our internal heat, to steam our garments dry. We had previously observed a few huts built of sod, with roofs of the same material laid upon poles. I ascertained that at least one of those structures was strengthened by a framework of logs, but the scarcity of timber and the expense of transporting it from where it was produced, led to the use of the more available material. The huts were similar in appearance to many that I have seen in Ireland, though the fibrous Irish sod cut from the bogs of the Emerald Isle is more durable—like all else that is Irish!

A few ducks and plover had fallen before the Noachian and were gladly appropriated in the mess department, but we were on the qui vive for bigger game. We had been tantalized daily by dubious reports of antelope alleged to have been seen in the distance, and had been anxiously watching for an opportunity to test our Henry rifles on this elusive game.

Paul Beemer was a veritable Nimrod, always vigilant, frequently scanning the horizon for signs of animal life. Riding ahead of the wagons, he suddenly announced the discovery of antelope on a far away hillside. It was a long detour for Paul to outflank his game and get to the leeward of it. "Not this time, Paul," said Dan, but Paul made the attempt, and the airy creatures, whatever they may have been, were quickly gone from his gaze like a beautiful dream. Noah, who claimed to have had a good view of the animals, declared that they were foxes, but Paul indignantly replied that his own verdict was absolutely final.

After six days' progress through storms and mud, we crossed tributaries of the Big Blue River, where the preceding year numerous Indian raids had occurred and many travelers had been massacred. We had not as yet seen a Red Man since we left Nebraska City. The sun was now shining brightly on the scene of the recent carnage, but we discovered no trace of those disastrous struggles with the savage warriors of the plains. I wandered off from the trail alone. Not a moving object dotted the graceful undulations of the green prairie, which lay peaceful in the June sunlight. Not a sound came from hill or valley. The perfect silence was impressive. It is well now and then to be thus alone, where no distraction turns one's thoughts from the serene face of Nature.

Despite all this apparent serenity, we knew not what enemy might lurk in those unseen valleys, which lately were the hiding places of bands of the subtle Sioux. We had already perfected our organization for protection, as was then the practice with all trains in the West. Each man took his turn standing guard at night, the first watch being until midnight, when the next in order was called to remain on duty until the cook for the week was summoned in the morning. Deacon Cobb was excused from this service, despite the Gospel injunction on all to watch as well as pray, as was also the cook during his week of service.

This cooking "proposition" presented something of a problem. The training which we had received in domestic science was rude and elementary, even compared with that now given in colleges for women. The so-called bread, which was in general the only article that was prepared and baked for our use, was seldom fit for human nourishment. The flour was stirred with water. A little shortening and soda were introduced with no well defined idea as to the proper quantity of each. This chemical compound was put into a skillet, a cast iron pan having a cover of the same material, with a short handle. It was then placed upon the open camp fire, which was made of such combustible substances as the country afforded, rarely wood. The duration of the baking process was regulated by that inestimable faculty which Yankee housewives call "gumption." Few if any of our party were endowed therewith in high degree. Sometimes our bread was of the consistency of putty; at other times the surface of the loaf was burned to a blackened crisp. But we did improve by practice, profiting by the censorious comments of the disgusted eaters who for the time were not managing the mess. We had no vegetables, milk, butter, or eggs. Bacon was the staple article of diet. The coffee was boiled in an open kettle, and served as black as night and strong as it was black. The earth was our table and all our tableware was tin. There were no lines of caste by which the cook was relegated to a lower social level than the banqueters, and if any one should too severely criticise the flavor of his coffee the cook would be apt to rise to the dignity of his office, seize the iron skillet, and threaten to terminate the existence of persistent grumblers. And Deacon Cobb highly relished this diet of bread nearly as tough as cork and took it with fresh air as a possible specific for dyspepsia and therewithal professed to be truly thankful.

Later observations made after we reached the main line of travel indicated that similar fare and experience were enjoyed or endured by other travelers. It was a matter of common remark that those who in seriousness did the most kicking concerning the food were such as either drank the most whiskey or did the least work, yet it is also true that both the mind and the maw must be in prime condition to respond uncomplainingly at all times to the rough fare of camp life, such as we provided. Very interesting it was to watch the rapid cleansing of the culinary utensils after breakfast, for an early start was usually desired. There were three methods of accomplishing this work, which in our camp were technically known as sanding, grassing and washing. The first two processes were regarded as preferable, chiefly by reason of the fact that the work involved could be accomplished with greater expedition. It may be explained that sanding consists in revolving the dish or kettle in the soil, preferably sand,—which is certainly an economical method. Grassing is simply the use of grass or any similar material for the same purpose. Washing is a more complicated and laborious process, as the water sometimes must be brought some distance, and water without soap fails to develop any chemical affinity for the residuum of fried bacon. An occasional sanding kept the plates in such excellent condition that at times it could be plainly seen or at least gravely suspected that they were tinware. The sanitary condition of the culinary department was as good as circumstances would permit. The provisions which may have been cooked and were being transported to another camp, or articles which had been prepared for cooking, were carried on the tail end of the wagon in what was known as the mess box, a simple box with a lid. No flies or other insects were permitted to enter the box except such as could pass through the half-inch opening beneath the cover; and any accumulated dust that had gathered upon the food during the day's journey was carefully shaken from it, at least in good measure.

A short distance west of the Big Blue, we made a descent upon a village of prairie dogs, the first that we had seen. Paul and I quickly despatched two of the inhabitants. Scores of the little rodents sat upon the mounds, which were only a few feet apart, marking the entrances to their subterranean homes, into which many of them would instantly drop like a flash on the slightest cause of alarm. These were the alert and vigilant sentinels which until danger threatened sat upright and motionless upon their earthworks and appeared like inanimate objects. The heroic few, which after an alarm faithfully remained upon their parapets, uttered frequent shrill, short barks, each accompanied by a vigorous wiggle of their dark little tails. What useful function this wiggling subserved I know not, unless it was a semaphoric signal to their comrades in the intrenchments beneath, but the wiggle aided in making the little animals more conspicuous and therefore easier marks. The prairie dog villages in that day frequently covered areas of sixty or seventy acres and undoubtedly sheltered a dense population. We frequently inspected the exterior of their premises, but during that investigation all was as silent as a city of the dead, and one would hardly suspect that a labyrinth of corridors abounding in active life existed beneath the surface.

In the middle of one forenoon, out upon that treeless, rolling prairie, all were riding lazily along, when someone observed a covered wagon far off at the right, just as it was descending behind a gentle slope. Was it possible that there could be another trail to the North? If there was, it was equally true that we might be on the wrong course, for we were supposed to be steering for the Platte River, which was also in the same direction. An investigation revealed the fact that one of our wagons was missing. Mounting a horse I rode rapidly over the prairie and in half an hour overtook the prairie schooner which was marking an entirely new trail of its own across the virgin green. Riding up beside the horses and looking in beneath the canvas, I discovered one occupant, and that was Uncle Simeon Cobb, who in a sleep as peaceful as that of childhood was unconscious of the fact that in his advanced years he was wandering far away from the true path out into an unknown wilderness.

"Hello, Deacon," I shouted, and the old gentleman slowly roused himself from his slumbers and after rubbing his eyes looked out upon the pathless prairie. "Well, by George," he remarked, passing to the extreme limit of his profane vocabulary, "I must have been asleep." His horses being halted, I explained to him how he happened to be discovered. Our little train was already out of sight and he promptly admitted that he was unable to tell from which side of the trail his horses had turned; and the tracks of his light wagon not being distinct he could hardly have retraced his course. The deacon was invariably calm and self-possessed and with a keen sense of the humorous in every situation. He therefore gravely stated that it seemed providential that he should be reclaimed from his wanderings in time for lunch. Having been escorted back to the train, it was decided that in the future he should not drive at the tail end of the procession, as he had done previous to that time.

The night of the 16th was glorious with a waxing moon. It was my turn on guard for the watch until midnight. As I sauntered off toward where the stock was picketed, with my rifle on my shoulder, my attention was called to the incessant yelp of the prairie wolves. In my timid excursions into Greek mythology I had read something of Orpheus and his lyre. The recollection of the alleged power of his melodies over animate and inanimate objects, led me quietly to enter our wagon and take out the violin with which I had occasionally whiled away an hour; and seated on the ground I drew the bow to the best of my ability. The night was so still that the sound was doubtless carried a great distance and evidently reached the sensitive ears of numerous wolves on their nocturnal prowl. The response was certainly tremendous. In a few minutes I had an enthusiastic audience in the not far distance, which might have been regarded as highly complimentary had it not been quite so demonstrative. Strangely enough, the music failed to calm their spirits until I had ceased for a time to torture the catgut. Whenever the sound of the instrument reached them, the din of yelps was returned from all points of the compass. The prairie wolves are simply scavengers and though possibly subject to pleasurable emotions (probably otherwise in the instance just given) yet their chief concern is to supply their ravenous appetites. Like vultures they scent the carrion from afar, and as it was Paul's week to cook they may have sniffed the aroma of his burnt bacon wafted to their acute olfactory nerves through the still air of the night. After the camp is vacated, and the wolves can find no food in a more advanced state of decomposition than the few morsels which the camper leaves behind, they will then regale themselves on the scraps left around the abandoned campfire.

On the following day, after crossing many deep gullies, we struck the Platte River trail from Omaha, which follows near the southern bank of that stream.