Lost Lenore Part 15

It was absurd for any one to have enlisted an intelligent-looking young fellow like myself, for any such occupation. Was I not expected to take French leave on the first favourable opportunity? And would I not be thought a "fool" for not doing so?

These considerations did not influence me much, I admit, for the true cause of my desertion, was the knowledge that neither my relatives nor Lenore would ever be encountered in the middle of the great American prairie, and that to find either I must "move on."

One night I was dispatched on patrol duty, to a place some two miles distant from the fort. The sky was dark at the time; but I knew the moon would be shining brightly in an hour.

A better opportunity would perhaps never occur again; and I resolved to take advantage of it and desert.

By going through the wilderness alone, I knew that I should have many dangers and hardships to encounter; but the curiosity, of learning how these were to be overcome, only added to my desire for entering upon them.

My patrol duty led me along the trail of the emigrants proceeding westward; and even in the darkness, I was able to follow it without difficulty, riding most of the way at a trot. When the moon rose, I increased my pace to a gallop, and scarce halted until daybreak, when, perceiving a small stream that ran through the bottom of a narrow valley, I rode toward it. There dismounting, I gave my horse to the gra.s.s--which was growing so luxuriantly as to reach up to his knees.

The horse was more fortunate than I: for the long night's ride had given me an appet.i.te, which I had no means of satisfying. I was hungry and happy--happy, because I was free; and hungry for the same reason! A paradox, though a truth.

There were birds warbling among the trees by the side of the stream. I could have shot some of them with my rifle, or revolver, and cooked them over a fire--for I had the means of making one. But I was not hungry enough to risk the report of a shot being heard; and after tethering my horse, to make secure against _his deserting me_, I lay down upon the long gra.s.s and fell fast asleep.

I dreamt no end of dreams, though they might all have been reduced to one; and that was: that the world was my inheritance, and I was on my way to take possession of it.

When I awoke, the sun was in the centre of the sky. My horse had satisfied his hunger; and, following the example of his master, had laid down to sleep.

I did not hesitate to disturb his repose; and, having saddled and remounted him, I once more took to the emigrant trail, and continued on towards fortune and Lenore!

Volume One, Chapter XVIII.

OLD JOHNSON.

I travelled along the trail all that afternoon and evening, until, just as twilight was darkening into night, I came in sight of some camp-fires. On seeing them, I paused to consider what was best to be done.

To halt at the camp--if, as I supposed, it was a party of emigrants-- might lead to my being taken, in case of being pursued from the fort, for my dress, the U.S. brand on the horse, and the military saddle, all proved them the property of "Uncle Sam."

This determined me to avoid showing myself--until I should have put a greater distance between myself and the fort.

I dismounted on the spot where I had halted, tethered my horse, and tried to take some rest. I soon found that I could not sleep: hunger would not admit of it.

Within sight of me were the camp-fires, surrounded by people, who would probably have relieved my wants; and yet I feared to go near them.

Conscience, or common sense, told me, that emigrants in a wilderness might not look very favourably upon one, employed to protect them, deserting from his duty, and taking property along with him--of which every citizen of the United States believes himself to be the owner of a share. They might not actually repel me. In all probability they would give me something to eat; but they might also give information concerning me--should I be pursued--that would enable my pursuers to make a prisoner of me.

Before daybreak I awoke, having enjoyed a brief slumber; and, silently mounting my horse, I rode beyond the emigrants' camp--deviating widely from the trail to get around them.

I soon recovered the track; and pursued it as fast as my steed was willing to carry me. When, looking out for a place where water could be obtained--with the intention of stopping awhile and killing some bird or animal for food--I came in sight of another party of emigrants, who were just taking their departure from the spot where they had encamped for the night.

I had put one train of these travellers between me and the fort; and now fancied myself tolerably safe from pursuit. Riding boldly up to the waggons, I told the first man I encountered, and in very plain terms that I must have something to eat.

"Now, I like that way of talking," said he. "Had you asked for something in the humble manner many would have done, perhaps you would not have got it. People don't like to carry victuals five hundred miles, to give away for nothing; but when you say you _must_ have something to eat, then, of course, I can do nothing but give it to you.

Sally!" he continued, calling out to a young woman who stood by one of the waggons, "get this stranger something to eat."

Looking around me, I saw a number of people--men, women, and children of every age. There appeared to be three families forming the "caravan" no doubt emigrating together, for the purpose of mutual protection and a.s.sistance. There were five or six young men--who appeared to be the sons of the elder ones--and a like number of young women, who were evidently the daughters of three others of middle age, while a large flock of miscellaneous children, a small flock of sheep, a smaller number of cattle, several horses, and half-a-dozen half-famished dogs completed the live-stock of the train.

"I guess you're a deserter?" said the man, to whom I had first addressed myself, after he had finished his survey of myself and horse.

"No," I answered. "I'm on my route to Fort Wool. I have lost my way, and gone without eating for two days."

"Now, I like that way of talking," responded the emigrant, who appeared to be the head man of the party. "When a man tells me a story, I like it to be a good one, and well told--whether I believe it, or not."

"What reason have you to disbelieve me?" I asked, pretending to be offended at having my word doubted.

"Because I think, from your looks, that you are not a d.a.m.ned fool,"

answered the man, "and no other but a fool would think of staying in a military fort, in this part of the world, any longer than he had a chance to get away from it."

I immediately formed the opinion, that the person speaking to me was the most sensible man I had ever met--myself not excepted: for it was not necessary for him to have seen Lenore, to know that I had done well in deserting.

After my hunger had been appeased, I moved on with the emigrant train, which I found to consist of three Missouri farmers and their families, on their way to the "Land of Promise." The man with whom I had conversed, was named Johnson, or "old Johnson," as some of his juniors called him. He was a sharp, brisk sort of an old fellow; and I could perceive, at a glance there was no chance of his being humbugged by any made-up story. I, therefore, changed my tactics; and frankly acknowledged myself to be a deserter from the United States' troops, occupying the last fort he had pa.s.sed. It was scarce necessary to add, that my destination was California. I finished by proposing: that he would have my services in whatever capacity he might require them, in consideration of furnishing me with food upon the journey.

"Now, I like that way of talking," said old Johnson, when I had concluded, "we just chance to need your help, and that of your horse, too; and we'll try to do the best we can for you. You must expect to see some hard times, before we get through--plenty of work and no great feeding--but do your share of the work, and you shall fare like the rest of us."

I could ask nothing fairer than this; and the next day, found me dressed in a suit of "linsey wolsey," working my pa.s.sage to California, by taking my share with the others, in clearing the track of obstructions, driving the cattle, and such other duties as fall to the lot of the overland emigrant.

The journey proved long, fatiguing, and irksome--much more so than I had expected; and many times a day did I swear, that, if I ever worked a pa.s.sage to California again, it should be by water. I was impatient to get on; and chafed at the slow pace at which we crawled forward. Horses and cattle would stray, or make a stampede; and then much time would be lost in recovering them.

Sometimes we would reach a stream, where a bridge had to be built or repaired; and two or three days would be spent at the work. The draught horses and oxen would die, or, becoming unable to proceed farther, would have to be left behind. The strength of our teams was being constantly weakened--until they were unable to draw the heavily loaded waggons; and it became necessary to abandon a portion of their contents--which were thrown away upon the prairies. The first articles thus abandoned, were carpets and other useless things, not required on the journey, but which to please the women, or at their instigation, had been put into the waggons at starting, and dragged for six or seven hundred miles!

The dogs, that, at the commencement of the journey, had for each mile of the road, travelled about three times that distance, having worn the skin from the soles of their feet, now crawled along after the waggons without taking one unnecessary step. They seemed at length to have reached the comprehension: that the journey was to be a protracted one; and that while undertaking it, the idle amus.e.m.e.nt of chasing birds was not true canine wisdom.

I shall not startle my leaders with a recital of any remarkable adventures we had with the hostile Indians: for the simple reason that we had none. They gave us much trouble for all that: since our fear of encountering them, kept us constantly on the alert--one of our party, and some times more, standing sentry over the camp throughout the whole of every night.

If my readers reason aright, they will give me credit for not drawing on my imagination for any part of this narrative. They may easily perceive that, by thus eschewing the subject of an encounter with Indians, I lose an excellent opportunity for embellishing my true tale with an introduction of fiction.

As we approached the termination of our journey, the teams became weaker--until it took all of them united in one yoke to draw a single waggon, containing only the youngest of the children, and a few pounds of necessary provisions!

The old ladies, along with their daughters, performed the last hundred miles of the journey on foot; and when we at length reached the first settlement--on the other side of the mountains--a band of more wretched looking individuals could scarce have been seen elsewhere. My own appearance was no exception to that of my companions. My hat was a dirty rag wrapped around my head like a turbann while my boots were nothing more than pieces of buffalo hide, tied around my feet with strings. For all this, I was as well dressed as any of the party.

My agreement with old Johnson was now fulfilled; and I was at liberty to leave him. I was anxious to be off to the diggings, where his eldest son, James, a young man about twenty years old, proposed accompanying me. Old Johnson declined going to the diggings himself--his object in coming to California being to "locate" a farm, while the country was still "young."

He furnished us with money to buy clothing and tools, as well as to keep us in food for awhile--until we should get fairly under weigh in the profession we were about to adopt.

I promised to repay my share of this money to his son--as soon as I should earn its equivalent out of the auriferous earth of California.

"Now, I like that way of talking," said old Johnson, "for I'm a poor man; and as I have just come here to make a fortune, I can't afford to lose a cent."

I parted with Mr Johnson and his party of emigrants with some regret, for they all had been more kind to me than I had any reason to expect.

I have never found the people of this world quite so bad as they are often represented; and it is my opinion, that any man who endeavours to deserve true friendship, will always succeed in obtaining it.

I have never met a man whose habit was to rail against mankind in general, and his own acquaintances in particular, whose friendship was worth cultivation. Such a man has either proved unworthy of friendship, and has never obtained it; or he has obtained, and therefore possesses that, for which he is ungrateful.

Volume One, Chapter XIX.

A "PROSPECTING EXPEDITION."