"Bring Me His Ears" Part 13

"Ye mebbe war sheddin' a little," laughed Tom, "but you'd 'a' shed them thieves afore ye petered out. Tell me about it."

"Thar ain't nothin' ter tell," replied Hank. "I'm nat'rally suspicious by bein' up in th' Crow country so much o' my time, an' I got ter thinkin' 'bout Schoolcraft. I'm mostly stronger on hindsight than I am on foresight, but this hyar's onct I sorta lined 'em both up an' got a good bead. I snuk up ter his shanty an' heard him an' that thar greaser chawin' tough meat with each other. So I come down hyar, expectin' ter lay fer 'em with Abe; but danged if him an' them warn't at it already! I only got two feet, two han's an' one mouth, an' I had ter waste one foot a-standin' on it; but th' rest o' me jined th' dance. Then you come.

That's all."

"How long war you two holdin' off th' six o' 'em?" demanded Tom of Abe with great interest, and thinking that Cooper's trust was well placed.

"'Twarn't long; two comets an' about six hundred stars, I reckon,"

mumbled the shrinking hero between swollen lips. "I war jest gittin' mad enough to go fur my knife when Hank gits in step with th' music, an'

jines han's with us. What we goin' ter do with 'em?"

"Oh, give 'em a kick apiece an' turn 'em loose without thar weapons,"

suggested Hank.

Tom shook his head. "They come from Schoolcraft; let's take 'em back to him," he suggested.

"Go ahead!" enthused Abe. Then he scratched his head. "But who's goin'

ter watch th' goods while we're gone? Jake ain't due fer couple o' hours yet."

"You air!" snorted Hank. "You need a rest, an' us two is sh.o.r.e enough."

He prodded the figures on the ground with the toe of his moccasin. "Git up, you squaw dogs!" he ordered.

In a moment five thoroughly cowed men were plodding before their guards.

The sixth, who was still wandering about on the far side of the boundary of consciousness, was across Tom's shoulder. Reaching the horse-dealer's shanty, the prisoners opened the door by the simple expedient of surging against it as they shrunk from the p.r.i.c.ks of Hank's skinning knife. The two men inside escaped the crashing door by vaulting over a small table, and before they could recover their wits in the face of this amazing return of their friends they were looking down the barrels of two six-shooters.

Tom dumped his burden onto the table, kicked a chair through a closed window, swept an open ink bottle onto Schoolcraft's manly stomach, and made a horrible face at the pop-eyed Mexican. "Hyar they air, polecat,"

he growled. "Any more raids on our goods an' I trail ye an' shoot on sight. Don't give a cuss who does it, or why; _I'll git you_. If I miss, Hank won't; an' we both got good friends. Come on, Hank, it stinks in here."

Tom turned and stalked out, but not so Hank. He backed out behind his newfangled weapon, pleasantly thinking of its six ready shots, slid along the outside of the shack and then waited with great hope for a head to pop out of the door. Having had no chance to try out the Colt he was curious regarding its accuracy. No head popped, however, and after a moment he sighed, slipped along the corral wall and crossed the street when far enough away to be covered by the darkness. Hank had no faith in hostile humans and did not believe in showing off. The thieving, treacherous Crows agreed that the brave who took Hank Marshall's scalp would be ent.i.tled to high honors; with the mournful reflection that by the time it was taken, if ever, the tribe would have paid a very high price for it.

CHAPTER IX

THE CARAVAN

At last came the day, and the dawn of it showed a cloudless sky, a sleeping town and a little caravan winding, with rattle of chains and squeak of harness, past the silent, straggling houses, bound westward for the "prairie ocean." Despite the mud and the slowness of the going high spirits ruled the little train. Youth was about to do and dare, eager for the gamble with fate; and age looked forward to the lure of the well-known trail even as it looked backward in memory for faces and experiences of the years gone by. The occasion was auspicious, for the start was prompt to the minute and earlier than any they would make later. They were on the luxuriant and better wooded eastern rim of the great plains, and would be on it for several days.

Joe Cooper, driving the small wagon with Patience seated at his side, led the way, eager and exultant. Following him closely came his two great Pittsburg wagons with their still spotless new sheets, each loaded with nearly three tons of selected merchandise, their immense wheels grumbling a little as they slid a fraction of an inch along their well-greased axles, their broad, new tires squashing out twin canyons in the mud. Next came two emigrant wagons, their proprietors fearing that they would not reach the Oregon-bound train at its rendezvous in time to leave with it. Under their stained and patched canvases two women slept as though in a steady bed, their children at their sides. Weeks of this traveling had given to them the boon of being able to fall asleep almost at will. Then came Enoch Birdsall and Alonzo Webb, sober and gay, abusing each other humorously, each in his own wagon, handling their strung-out teams with nonchalant ease. Close to the rear of the last wagon came the eight mules of Tom Boyd and Hank Marshall, four to a string, followed by their horse-mounted owners; and behind them were Jim Ogden and Zeb Houghton, each driving two mules before them.

The road was in execrable condition, its deep ruts masked by a mud as miry as it appeared to be bottomless, and several times the great wagons were mired so hard and fast that it took the great ox teams of Alonzo and Enoch, hooked on in addition to the original mule teams, to pull them out; and the emigrant wagons, drawn by over-worked oxen, gave nearly as much trouble. The story of their progress to Council Grove would be tiring, since it would be but little more than a recital of the same things over and over again--the problems presented by the roads.

At Round Grove they said good-bye to the emigrants, who joined the rear guard of their own caravan at this point. Along the so-called Narrows, the little ridge forming the watershed between the Kansas and Osage rivers, for a stretch extending quite some distance westward from Round Grove, the roads were hardly more than a series of mudholes filmed over and masked by apparently firm ground. In some of these treacherous traps the wagons often sank to the hubs, and on two occasions the bottom of the wagon-box rested on the mud. It was hopeless to try to pull them out with the animals so deep in mud, and only by finding more firm ground along the side of the trail, the use of long chains and the aid of every draft animal in the train were the huge wagons dragged out. The men themselves waded into the traps, buried at times almost to the waist, and put their shoulders to wheels and wagon-boxes and pushed and heaved and floundered; and they kept their spirits high despite the penetrating cold of the mire. Under these conditions stops were frequent to rest both teams and men, the "noonings" were prolonged, camp made earlier in the evening than was usual and left later in the morning. The tally of miles was disheartening, and to make matters worse a heavy downpour of chilling rain fell half a day before they reached 110 Mile Creek which, besides making everyone miserable and spoiling the cooking, swelled the stream so much that it was crossed only with the greatest difficulty.

One of the few things they were grateful for was the fact that they did not have to keep regular guard watches at night, for while the Kaws and Osages might steal an animal or two in hope of receiving a little whiskey, powder, or tobacco for its return, there was no danger of wholesale stampeding, and a man or two was sufficient to watch the camp.

One pleasant incident occurred when they pulled in sight of Switzler's Creek, where they found another section of the caravan in camp. The augmented train now numbered about twenty-six wagons and formed a rear guard worthy of the name. The weather had cleared again and the sun shone brightly all the way to Council Grove. To offset the pleasant effect of joining the other train, it was at Switzler's Creek that a hard-pushed mule train overtook them. With it came the little Mexican and half a dozen of his compatriots, and several of Ephriam Schoolcraft's chosen bullies. At their appearance Hank Marshall found a new interest in life, and there was very little occurring in the new mule train that he missed. His habits now became a little similar to those of the cat tribe, for he resorted to his old trick of dozing while riding, catching naps at the noonings, before dark and after dawn. With him awake at night and Tom awake during the day, and with Jim Ogden's and Zeb Houghton's nocturnal prowlings thrown in the balance, it looked as though Hank's remark about "n.o.body ketchin' these beavers asleep"

would be fully justified.

Council Grove was reached one noon, and they learned that they would have plenty of time to do the many little things neglected on the way, for they would stay here two days. This was welcome news, as it gave them an opportunity to let the draft animals rest and feed well in preparation for the long prairie haul ahead.

Council Grove of the caravan days is worthy of notice. It was the meeting place as well as the council place for those who were to cross the prairies together. To it ran the feeding roads, gradually growing as strands feed a rope, the loose and frayed ends starting from the Missouri River points and converging as they neared the grove. Named from a council and a treaty which took place there between a government commission sent out to survey a wagon road to the Arkansas River, and a tribe of Osages, in which safety for the traders was obtained from these savages, it was doubly well named because of the yearly councils which were held between the traders themselves to perfect the organization of the caravan.

The grove itself, of oak, ash, hickory, elm, and many other kinds of trees, was about half a mile wide and extended along the sides of the little valley of Council Grove Creek, a large tributary of the Neosho River. With its dense timber, its rich bottom pastures, and fine, high prairies it made an ideal spot for a rendezvous; and it was about the last of the really fine and productive country seen from Independence.

Here were hard woods in plenty, the last to be found on the long trip, from which to obtain replacements for broken axles and other wagon parts. This also was the farthest point reached by the trains without real organization, for from here on every important movement was officially ordered.

Scattered about the beautiful, green little valley were wagons great and small, and piles of mule packs, each camp somewhat by itself. There was much calling and getting acquainted, fun and frolic, much hewing of trees, mending of gear, and, in general, busy preparation for the journey over the land of the short buffalo gra.s.s. Tenderfeet wasted their time and ammunition at target practice or in hunting for small game, and loafed to their hearts' content; but the experienced traveler put off his loafing and play until he knew that he had done everything there was to be done. There were horse races and mule races and even ox-team races; tugs of war, running, jumping, and, in fact, everything anyone could think of to help pa.s.s the time.

After a good night's sleep the Cooper party found there was little to do except to get timber for "spares," and notwithstanding that a spare axle was slung from under each of the huge freighters, Uncle Joe insisted that each wagon carry another, and he personally superintended the cutting. They had been obtained and slung in place beside the others when a bugle was heard and criers pa.s.sed among the little camps calling everyone for roll call. Nearly two hundred persons answered, all but one of them being men, and then the electioneering began for the choice of captain. To be a success a caravan must have one head, and the more experienced he was the better it would be for the caravan.

Now came the real excitement of the day, for party spirit was strong and insistent, and the electioneering was carried on with such gusto that several fights grew out of it. There were four parties at first, among which was Mike Wardell's, comprising the rougher, more lawless frontier element. He was a close friend of Ephriam Schoolcraft and he had his admirers outside of his own cla.s.s, for a group of tenderfeet which was impressed by his swaggering, devil-may-care manners backed him in a body; and another group which was solidly behind him was composed of the poorer Mexican traders. The second of the larger parties with a candidate in the field, who had been nominated by a series of caucuses, was made up of the more experienced and more responsible traders, veterans of the trail who put safety and order above all other considerations. This party nominated Zachary Woodson, who had more wagons in the caravan than any other one man, therefore having more at stake, and who had not missed his round trip over the route for a dozen years. His nomination split the Mexicans, for half of them had wagons and valuable freights, and were in favor of the best leadership.

At first Woodson flatly refused to run, sneeringly reminding his friends of the lack of cooperation he could expect from the very men who needed law and order and leadership most. He knew by bitter experience that the captain of a Santa Fe caravan had no real authority and that his orders were looked upon as mere requests, to be obeyed or not, as the mood suited. He was obdurate in his refusal until a split occurred in the other strong party and resulted in a disgraceful fight among its members, which was kept from having disastrous results only by the determined interposition of the more resolute members of his own party.

This caused the two smaller factions to abandon their own candidates and throw themselves against Wardell, and resulted in the overwhelming election of the man best suited for the position.

His first act after grudgingly accepting the thankless leadership was to ask for a list of the men, wagons, and pack animals, and he so engineered the division of them that each section had as its lieutenant a man whom he could trust and who did not lack in physical courage so much needed to get some kind of order and to keep it. The great train was divided into four divisions, at the present to join so as to march in two columns; but later to spread out and travel in divisional order of four straight columns abreast, far enough apart so that the width of the whole front roughly would equal the length of a column.

Next came the arrangement of the watches, the most cordially hated of all caravan duties. In this train of nearly ninety wagons there were nearly one hundred and eighty men physically able to stand a guard, and no one who was able to stand his trick was let off. The captain preferred the regular and generally accepted system of two watches, each of four squads, which put one squad on duty for three hours each alternate night; but there were so many men for this disagreeable task that he allowed himself to be over-ruled and consented to a three watch system, six squads to the watch, which put one watch of nine men and a corporal on duty for two hours every third night. Almost any concession was worth making if it would arouse a little interest and a sense of duty in this very important matter of guarding the camp. The corporal of each squad arranged to shift up one tour each time their squad went on, which would give no one squad the same hours for its successive tours of duty. Nothing could have been fairer than this, but there were objectors in plenty. Each one of the kickers had his own, perfect plan. Some wanted smaller squads with the same number of watches so that each tour of duty would be less; some wanted two watches and smaller squads, to the same end, both of which would have caused endless changing of the guard, endless awakenings all night long, with practically continuous noise and confusion. Captain Woodson, having abandoned the regular and tried system so as to let the men feel a sense of cooperation, flatly refused to allow any further changes, and in consequence earned the smoldering grudges of no small number, which would persist until the end of the trail and provide an undercurrent of dissatisfaction quick to seize on any pretext to make trouble.

For the division officers he chose the four men he had in mind, after over-ruling a demand for a vote on them. As long as he was responsible for the safety of the caravan he declared that it was his right to appoint lieutenants whom he knew and could trust. The bickering had fresh fuel and continued strong all day, and it would last out the journey.

Arranging the divisions so far as possible to put friends together, with the exception of some of the tenderfoot parties, they were numbered, from left to right, as they would travel, and he was careful to put the more experienced plainsmen on the two outside ranks and, where possible, the better drivers in the two inner columns. These latter had a little more complex course to follow in case of sudden need to corral the caravan. For corralling while traveling in two columns, he instructed the drivers to follow the wagon ahead and to stop when his own wagon tongue came even with the rim of the rear wheel of the wagon he was following. In case of corralling in face of danger, they were to swing their teams to the inside of the leading wagon, so as to have all the animals on the inside of the corral; in ordinary camping they were to swing their teams in the other direction, so the animals would be ready to graze outside of the corralled wagons. They were to pay no attention to direction or to sudden inspirations, but were blindly to follow the wagon in front of them and to close up the gaps. The leading driver of each column would set the curving track which would bring the wagons into a great ellipse or a circle while moving in the two column formation.

The first and fourth columns were commanded by Jim Ogden and Tom Boyd, while the two inner columns were under a trader named Haviland and a sullen, mean-tempered trader of Independence and a warm friend of Schoolcraft. His name was Franklin, and while his personal attributes were unpleasant and he was a leader of the Schoolcraft element, he was a first cla.s.s caravan man and had proved his coolness and resourcefulness in many a tight place. His appointment also served in a measure to placate the rebellious element, which nursed the thought that it could do about as it pleased in its own column. Whether they were right or wrong in this remained to be seen. While the two column formation was in use the first and second divisions made up one of them; the third and fourth, the other. To Tom's delight he found that the Cooper wagons had been a.s.signed to his own division; but as an offset to this two wagons belonging to gallivanting tenderfeet had been placed directly behind them. It was not pleasant to think of these dandified city sports being so close to Patience Cooper all the way to Santa Fe.

Like many men in love, he was p.r.o.ne to discount the intelligence and affections of the loved one and to let his fears threaten his common sense.

The first great watch went on duty at seven o'clock that night, more for the purpose of breaking the men in to their work than for any need of defense, for no Indian troubles, despite the rumors afloat in Independence, were to be looked for so far east. There was a great deal of joking and needless challenging that night and very little attempt to follow instructions. An Indian likes nothing better than a noisy, standing sentry; but this savage preference hardly would be shown in the vicinity of Council Grove. Woodson knew that discipline could not be obtained and that every man would do as he pleased until the encampment received a good scare, but his own sense of responsibility impelled him to make an effort to get it.

The next day was pa.s.sed in resting, in placing the wagons in their order of march, and in drilling the drivers in caravan tactics; and that night the guard was as noisy as it had been the night before. The squad which went on duty at one o'clock contained two tenderfeet and between them they succeeded in shattering the monotony.

A quarter of an hour after the guard had been changed tenderfoot Number One thought he heard a sound and saw a movement. He promptly challenged and fired in the same instant. His weapon was a double-barreled fowling piece charged with buckshot, and there was no doubt about the deadly efficiency of such a combination when the corporal found the carca.s.s of a mule with a hole in it nearly as big as a hat. The camp was thrown into an uproar, guns flashed from the wagons to the imminent peril of the rest of the sentries, and only the timely and rough interference of a cool-headed trapper kept the two four-pounders from being fired. They were loaded with musket b.a.l.l.s and pebbles and trained on three wagons not fifty yards from them. Orders, counter orders, suggestions, shouts for b.a.l.l.s, powder, flints, caps, patches, ramrods, and for about everything human minds could think of kept the encampment in a pandemonium until sense was driven into the panicky men and the camp allowed to resume its silence.

Tenderfoot Number Two heard and saw an Indian approaching him and fired his pistol at the savage. This took place near the end of the same guard tour. Only his fright and the poor light which made his wobbling aim all the more uncertain saved the life of his best friend who, restless and lonely, was going out to share the remainder of the watch with him.

Again pandemonium reigned and weapons exploded, but this time the cattle stampeded in the darkness, doing the best they could with their handicap of hobbles.

At dawn the caravan was astir, the blast from the bugle not needed this time, for almost every man had animals to hunt for and drive in, and as a result of this breakfasts were late and the whole day's operations were thrown out of step. Finally after all the stampeded animals had been rounded up and the morning meal was out of the way, and things done at the last minute which should have been done the day before, preparations were started to get under way. Mules and horses broke loose and had to be chased and brought back; animals balked and kicked and helped to turn the camp into a scene of noisy confusion. Several parties found that they had neglected to cut spare axles and forthwith sallied off to get them. Others frantically looked for articles they had misplaced or loaned, one wagon being entirely unpacked to find a coffee pot and a frying pan which someone else later discovered at the edge of the creek where they had been dropped after they had been washed, their owner having left them to get a shot at a squirrel he thought he saw.

The forehanded and wiser members of the caravan took advantage of the delay and turmoil to cut an extra supply of firewood against a future need, add to their store of picket stakes and also to fill their water casks to keep them swelled tight beyond question, against the time when the much dreaded dry stretch should be reached.

At last from the captain's camp the well-known summons of "Catch up!"

was heard, and pa.s.sed on from group to group along the creek. Those who had not yet hitched up their teams, almost at every case old hands at the game who were wise enough to let their animals graze until the last minute, now exultantly drove in their teams and filled the little valley with the rattle of chains, the clicking of yokes, the braying of indignant mules, and their own vociferations. Soon a teamster yelled "All's set!" and answering shouts rolled up and down the divisions. At the shouted command of "Stretch out!" whips cracked, harness creaked, chains rattled and wagons squeaked as the shouting drivers straightened out their teams. "Fall in!" came next, and the teams were urged into the agreed-upon order, the noses of the leaders of one team close to the tailboard of the wagon ahead. The second and third divisions, falling in behind the first and fourth, made two strings rolling up the long western slope of the valley toward the high prairie at its crest.

Songs, jokes, exultant shouts ran along the trains as the valley was left behind, for now the caravan truly was embarked on the journey, and every mile covered put civilization that much farther in the rear.

Straight ahead lay the trail, beaten into a plain, broad track leading toward the sunset, a mark which could not be mistaken and which rendered the many compa.s.ses valueless so far as the trail itself was concerned.

The first day's travel was a comparatively short one, and during the drive the officers rode back along the lines and again explained the formation which would be used at the next stopping place. This point was so near that the caravan kept on past the noon hour and did not stop until it reached Diamond Spring, a large, crystal spring emptying into a small brook close to a very good camping ground. The former camp no sooner had been left than the tenderfeet began to show their predilection to do as they pleased and to ride madly over the prairie in search of game which was not there, finally gravitating to a common body a mile or more ahead of the wagons, a place to which they stuck with a determination worthy of better things.

At Diamond Spring came the first clash against authority, for the captain had told each lieutenant to get his division across all streams before stopping. The word had been pa.s.sed along the twin lines and seemed to have been tacitly accepted, yet when the wagons reached the brook many of the last two divisions, thinking the farther bank too crowded and ignoring the formation of the night encampment, pulled up and stopped on the near side. After some argument most of them crossed over and took up their proper places in the corral, but there were some who expressed themselves as being entirely satisfied to remain where they were, since there was no danger from Indians at this point. The animals were turned loose to graze, restrained only by hobbles until nightfall, the oxen in most cases yoked together to save trouble with the stubborn beasts until they should become trained and more docile.

They were the most senseless of the draft animals, often stampeding for no apparent cause; the sudden rattle of a chain or a yoke often being all that was needed to turn them into a fleshy avalanche; and while the Indians did not want oxen, they seemed to be aware of the excitable natures of the beasts and made use of their knowledge to start stampedes among the other animals with them, much the same as fulminate of mercury is used to detonate a charge of a more stable explosive.