IN DIRE DISTRESS.
Some days later the party reached the great salt plains dreaded by all
overland travellers. The sight of the vast, white prairies, utterly
destitute of vegetation, with no plant or shrub visible, and no evidence
that any had ever existed, was depressing enough.
“If we should get out of provisions or water here, Heaven help us!” said
Tom apprehensively.
“How far will we have to go before we reach the borders of the plain?”
asked Grant.
“I don’t know, but I have heard that it is very extensive.”
“How are we off for provisions?”
“That is what makes me anxious. Our supply is quite scanty.”
“And there is no chance to replenish it here?”
Tom shook his head.
“Don’t tell mother,” he said. “It would make her worry. It will be time
for her to learn it if worse comes to worst.”
On the sixth day they were startled by a sight calculated to increase
their fears.
It was a stranded wagon, with three gaunt, emaciated bodies stretched
near it, all of them quite dead. There were two men and a woman.
“They must have died of hunger, or thirst, or both,” whispered Tom.
“What can have happened to them?” asked Mrs. Cooper compassionately.
“Perhaps they were weak, and unable to go farther,” said Tom evasively.
“It seems terrible that they should be exposed to the elements. Suppose
some wild beasts should come and mangle their bodies.”
“Wild beasts are too sensible to be found in this region,” said Tom.
“Why?” asked his mother.
“Because,” answered Tom, hesitating, “the country is so barren and
unattractive.”
“You seem to think wild animals appreciate fine scenery, like human
beings.”
“Well, yes, in a measure,” and Tom nodded significantly at Grant, as if
to caution him against saying anything that would reveal to his mother
his real meaning.
[Illustration: A HORRIBLE DISCOVERY.—DEATH FROM STARVATION.]
“Tom,” said his father, “don’t you think we had better bury these
unfortunate persons?”
“Yes, father. I will help you do it.”
“And I,” added Grant.
“First, however, let us see if we can find any letters or documents
disclosing their identity. We ought to let their friends know what has
become of them.”
In the pocket of one of the men Tom found letters showing that it was a
party from Taunton, in Massachusetts. One of the men had a silver watch,
and upon another was found a small sum of money.
“I will take charge of the watch and money,” said Mr. Cooper, “and when
we reach any point where it is possible, I will send them on to their
friends in Taunton, for that appears to have been their home.”
“What about the wagon, father?”
“We must leave it. We have all we can do in transporting our own.”
A grave was dug, and the three bodies were deposited therein. Tom looked
sober, for he couldn’t help asking himself, “Suppose this should be our
fate!”
He quietly examined the wagon to see if he could find any provisions,
but there was not a scrap, or crust to be found.
“It was as I thought,” he whispered to Grant. “The poor wretches died of
starvation.”
A week later the same problem confronted them.
“Grant,” said Tom, “I have been examining our food supply, and find that
we have only enough to last us two days.”
Grant looked startled.
“And then?” he asked.
“I don’t know. Unless we get a fresh supply we must die, like those poor
people whom we buried a week since.”
“Shall you tell your mother?”
“I must. She is entitled to know, for she is in danger like ourselves.”
Mrs. Cooper turned pale, but seemed calm and composed when told of the
state of affairs.
“We must make our provisions last as long as possible,” she said.
“But how?”
“We must be placed on allowance.”
“Half rations?”
“Yes. That will give us some additional time. We must make our two days’
supply last over four days, and who knows what may happen in four days?”
“That is a sensible suggestion, mother, but let it only extend to Grant,
father and myself. I don’t want you to be stinted.”
“What do you think of me, Tom? Do you suppose I would consent to fare
better than my husband and son, and this boy, who seems like one of us?
No, Tom, you should judge your mother better.”
“You have shut me up, mother. I can’t say anything in answer to that.”
“I will show you that a woman has as much fortitude as a man. Besides, I
do not have to work as hard as you. I can bear the deprivation better.”
The days following were days of intense anxiety. Every morning, when
they set out on their daily march, there was a prayer in the heart of
each that something would happen before the sun set that would relieve
them from the haunting fear of famine.
But in all these days they met no one, and overtook no one. The sun rose
hot and fiery, making the great alkali plain seem still more arid and
cheerless. So far as they could see, they were the only people in the
world; for, look as they might, they could see no other evidence of
human habitation. But in the distance it was a relief to perceive some
low rising hills, and by night time they reached an oasis, and, what
cheered their hearts, a small stream of water, for they were very nearly
out, and had felt the need of economizing. Now the oxen, and the horse,
as well as themselves, were allowed to drink _ad libitum_. The animals
drank with evident gratification, and looked sensibly cheered and
relieved.
“Now, if we could only find some food, I should be perfectly happy,”
said Grant.
Only a few crackers were left, but these, dipped in the water, became
palatable. But the serious question arose: “What would they do when
these were gone?” It was a question that none of them could answer.
“I have often wondered, Grant,” said Tom, “what it was like to want
food. I begin to understand it now. I remember one day a poor tramp came
to our door, who said he had not tasted food for forty-eight hours. I
looked at him with curiosity. I could not understand how this could
happen to any one. All my life I had never known what it was to want
food. I even doubted his word; but when mother invited him into the
kitchen and set a plate of meat and bread before the poor fellow, the
eagerness with which the famished wretch ate satisfied me that he had
told the truth. Now, Grant, I will make a confession.”
“What is it, Tom? Have you murdered any one?” asked Grant, with forced
hilarity.
“Not that I remember. My confession is of a different nature. For four
days—during the whole time that I have been on half rations—I have felt
a perpetual craving for food.”
“And I too, Tom.”
“And now I feel weak and exhausted. It has been an effort to drag myself
along to-day. The fact is, machinery can’t be kept in working trim
without fuel.”
“I realize that, too, Tom.”
“I presume father and mother have felt the same way, but I haven’t dared
to ask them. They say ‘misery loves company,’ but when the companions in
misery are your own father and mother, it doesn’t apply. Though I have
to suffer myself, I wish they were spared the same privations that have
undermined my strength.”
It will be seen that Tom was better educated than the majority of young
men born and brought up in the country. He had attended an academy in a
neighboring town for a year, and had for a season taught the district
school at Crestville. Grant found him pleasant and instructive company.
That night, when they went to bed, they were utterly without food. What
were to be their experiences on the morrow they could not foresee, but
there was plenty of room for grave apprehension.
“Grant, if we can get no food, I have decided what we must do,” said
Tom, as they lay down to rest at a short distance from each other.
“What is it, Tom? Have you thought of anything?”
“Yes; I suppose you know that horseflesh, though not to be compared with
beef, is still palatable?”
“Yes.”
“It is our last resource. Poor old Dobbin must die!” and the young man
sighed.
At that moment the old horse whinnied.
“It seems as if he knew what we were talking about,” said Tom.
“That will last us some time,” remarked Grant, with renewed hope.
“Yes; I suppose the poor old fellow won’t be very tender, but it is the
only way he can serve us now. We can cook up quite a supply while the
meat is fresh, and take it with us. It will give us a new lease of life,
and something may happen before that supply is exhausted.”
Tom consulted his father and mother, who, though at first startled,
decided that it was the only thing to be done.
And so poor Dobbin’s fate seemed to be sealed!