Cattle-Ranch to College Part 7

For half an hour they moved along without a word being spoken; their new friend relapsed into his huddled-up position, Ben lay asleep in the bottom of the wagon, and John communed with himself. He wondered what his mother thought of their absence, and he felt the responsibility of an elder brother. He knew that the horses would turn up riderless, and that his father would send back over the trail that had been covered by the train, but would not find them. The thought of their anxiety made him doubly impatient at the slow progress made. He longed for Baldy to gallop on and set their minds at rest. Still, they moved along at a pace little faster than a walk. Each step of the weary beasts seemed as if it must be the last.

At length John, who was the only person awake, noticed that the off horse began to sway as he stumbled along. He roused the man at his side and told him he thought the animal was about done for. But the words of warning were hardly out of his mouth when the poor beast dropped like a lump, made a few fruitless attempts to regain his feet, and then lay quiet.

Here was a pretty mess for all hands!

The man, with one f.a.gged horse and one almost as bad, ten miles from camp, with no food or water, on a trail over which hardly any one pa.s.sed.

The boys, footsore from the long tramp, with a gnawing hunger and parching thirst and nothing to satisfy either, their destination they knew not how far off, and no means of reaching it other than afoot.

There was but one thing to do: set out once more and trust to Providence that the camp would be found at the junction of the two trails and that their strength would hold out long enough to accomplish the journey.

John promised to send some one back with horses and food, if the stranger did not turn up within a reasonable time, and the youngsters then resumed their weary march, John almost carrying his brother.

The moon had come out and showed the boys the deeply marked road. They had but to follow the track, so it became simply a question of endurance and pluck. The simple, hardy life they had always led, and the constant exposure to heat and cold had toughened their little bodies and had given them a reserve fund of strength which now responded to the call upon their utmost powers. Strained as every faculty was, they plodded on doggedly, hour after hour. Just after midnight they topped a little rise, and involuntarily cried out in unison. There ahead of them was a blaze that gave them new life. They had reached the junction of the two trails, and the camp. The wagons were drawn in a circle just as they had pictured to themselves, the camp fire was burning brightly in a shallow pit (to prevent its spread to the surrounding prairie) and some of the men, wrapped in their blankets, were lying like long, b.u.mpy bundles on the ground, while a bunch of mules were feeding at a little distance, guarded by the "night wrangler."

In the centre of the enclosure, where the ruddy light of the campfire brought out their anxious faces in strong relief, stood the boys' father and mother. John and Ben ran forward as fast as their tired legs could carry them. They shouted--as loud as their dry, dust-coated throats would allow.

It made them gulp simultaneously to see how the expression of the two faces changed; the woman's growing wholly tender and joyful, the man's altered to that of relief rather than joy. John knew from past experience that while the mother would be glad to comfort and caress, the father would not permit any such soft treatment. They would be lucky if they got off with a sharp rebuke.

Mrs. Worth rushed to meet them, but her husband restrained her. "You boys go over to the cook-wagon and get something to eat, then turn in.

We've got to get off soon after daybreak. I'll see what you have to say for yourselves to-morrow."

The cold supper John and Ben indulged in that night would probably not interest the ordinary pet dog of your acquaintance. It consisted of cold, greasy pork and beans, poor cold coffee without milk, and soggy bread, but they thought it was food fit for the G.o.ds. Hunger satisfied and thirst quenched, they were glad enough to curl under a wagon, a blanket their only covering and a saddle for a pillow.

Before getting to sleep they heard the teamster who had befriended them come into camp; his team had revived enough to painfully cover the remaining distance to the Worths' outfit.

They had hardly dozed off, it seemed to them, when they heard the cook's shrill call, "Grub p-i-i-i-le," and knew that breakfast was ready and all hands must be astir.

After the blankets had been made into a neat roll and put away in a wagon, breakfast was despatched promptly, for cook, even on the frontier, is an autocratic person, not to be kept waiting.

The meal was much like the supper of the previous night, except that the food was hot. The boys then went down to the creek and soaked off the dust that had gathered during their long tramp. In an incredibly short time the train had broken camp and was on the move again. The cook's few dishes and pots were given a hasty rinse in the creek and packed, the mules and horses driven in, and the fresh ones harnessed and saddled.

The "day wrangler" took the place of the "night wrangler," who promptly lay down in one of the wagons and went to sleep.

The procession fairly moving, John and his brother were called up to explain their absence of the afternoon and night before. This John did with fear and trembling, for he feared his father's wrath. He got off, however, with a severe reprimand and positive orders not to go out of sight of the wagons at any time, and the boys went off congratulating themselves on their lucky escape.

All that day the caravan travelled steadily, stopping only at noon for dinner and for water. Towards evening they came near their destination, reaching a clear creek bordered with green. Up from the stream rose a hill, and half way up was a strange-looking house, part of which seemed to be buried in the side of the slope.

The boys were somewhat surprised when they were told that this was to be their home for the winter.

"Look, John," exclaimed Ben, "we're going to live in a hole in the ground."

CHAPTER V.

IN A MINING CAMP.

"More like a tunnel with a porch to it, I should say," said John, as they approached the "dug-out."

Indeed, the Worths' new home was an unprepossessing abode even after the familiar furniture was in position, the bunks made ready for use, and a fire built in the fireplace.

As its name showed, it was merely a hole or tunnel in the slope of the hill, with a small log house built out from it. But though it was not luxurious, it was warm in winter and cool in summer, the earth protecting it from extremes of both heat and cold. The bare ground packed hard served for a floor, and the fireplace was set far back in the underground portion of the room, its smoke outlet being a chimney of sod projecting through the roof.

Into this new and strange dwelling the household goods were carried, a fire was built, and in a short while the place began to a.s.sume the appearance of a home. While this was being done, the men looked up their own habitations, and found that other dug-outs, not so large or well finished, but fairly comfortable, were all ready for occupancy. The mine had been opened already, and the workmen had previously constructed these huts, half caves, half houses, for themselves and for the "boss's"

family.

It was all a new experience for the boys, and they investigated everything with great interest. The idea of living in a hole in the ground struck them for quite a while as very funny, and they made jokes without end about it to each other.

The wagons had been placed in the wide creek "bottom"--the s.p.a.ce cut out of the bank by the current, which had since retreated to its present narrower channel. This "bottom," for years and years the stream's bed, was well supplied with rich alluvial soil, and was in consequence luxuriantly covered with fresh gra.s.s and vegetation of all kinds.

"I tell you, Jack," called Ben, when the boys scrambled down the steep path to the creek, "this is something like. Why, I can see bottom--and I declare, if I didn't see a fish sneak out of that rooty place there."

He hopped on one foot and then on the other in his excitement, and then, somehow--neither he nor John could ever explain it--he suddenly found himself splashing in the clear stream. John caught hold of his heels and dragged him out face down. His head had sc.r.a.ped the soft bottom and his nose had made a beautiful furrow in the mud.

"What were you trying to do?" inquired John, as soon as he could get his breath. "Catch the fish in your mouth?"

When Ben turned, spitting mud and digging it out of his nostrils, John almost exploded with laughter. "Maybe you think it's funny," spurted the younger boy, "but wait till you come to make a mud scow of yourself; then you won't laugh quite so much."

John struggled to suppress his mirth, and after a while succeeded--as long as his brother's mud-be-plastered visage was not in sight.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Instantaneous sketches of the positions in slipping and diving.]

Face washed and good humor restored, the boys wandered further down the stream on a trip of discovery. New delights opened at every turn. A mile or so below the camp a beaver dam was found, and as they drew near, one of those clever, industrious little beasts shot down the slide they had constructed, with a _kerflop_ into the pool. Here was sport indeed. The boys wondered how many of the curious animals the brown, mud-plastered, dome-shaped houses contained. The doors to these houses were under water, and only the second story was above its level.

"I tell you what," said John, "we'll have to catch some of those beggars. Their skins are worth money." And so they vowed to remember the spot and capture some of the inhabitants of this semi-submarine village.

A little further along they came to a clearly marked path, the edge of which (the centre was beaten hard) was indented with small hoof prints of deer and antelope. They saw, too, the cushioned print of the great prairie wolf. Evidently this was the haunt of game of all kinds.

On the way back the boys had little leisure to examine the paradise they had discovered, for the sun was sinking fast and they had wandered further than they realized. An inviting pool was noted, however, that would serve for a swimming hole, and Ben unhesitatingly dubbed this "plumb bully." John prevented him from plunging into it right away only by main force and the reference to his ducking, but he could not keep him from taking off his moccasins and wading in whenever an opportunity occurred.

As they neared the camp the last rays of the sun glinted down on them.

The preparations for the evening meal were in full swing: the clatter of tin dishes mingled with the clatter of tongues, and the smoke pouring from the sod chimneys bore a most savory odor that made the boys realize they were hungry.

"I wish we had a rifle," John was saying. "We could have got one of those ducks we saw down the creek for supper."

"Well, I'm going to have one, and a repeater, too," returned Ben. "I'll have one if I----"

"Look out!" yelled his brother, interrupting him. At the same moment he jumped to his side and pulled him violently back. Ben almost fell, but his brother held him up and dragged him still further.

"Look!" he said, breathless with excitement.

Ben's eyes followed the direction of his pointing finger. There in the trail on which they had been walking, on the exact spot where he had been about to plant his bare foot, lay a big diamond-backed rattler, asleep in the last rays of the setting sun.

"Phew! that was a close call," exclaimed John. "You want to keep a sharp lookout when you go barefoot. I can't watch out for you all the time."

The younger boy, pretty badly scared, put on his moccasins without delay and kept his eyes on the trail after that. The rest of the way was covered in almost absolute silence, for the escape had been a narrow one, and both were sobered by it.

The plain, wholesome supper over, the boys were glad enough to turn in, and though the bunks were anything but soft and the surroundings unfamiliar, the exertions of the day before and the hardships of the night preceding it put them to sleep in short order.