A WORTHY OBJECT REACHED FOR AND MISSED IS A FIRST STEP TOWARD SUCCESS.
Who, among the many persons contributing for a wage, to the convenience
of everyday life in these latter times, is more waited and watched for,
and brings more of joy, and more of sorrow when he comes, than the
postman.
In the days of trailing, our post accommodations were extremely few and
very far between. There were no mailing points, except at the government
forts, Fort Kearney and Laramie being the only two on the entire trip,
soldiers carrying the mail to and from the forts either way. After
leaving Fort Kearney, the next mailing point east, was Fort Laramie.
Before leaving home, I had been entrusted with a package of letters by
Hon. Isaac P. Christiancy, from his wife, to her brother, James
McClosky, who had been on the plains some fourteen years, and who was
supposed to be living near Fort Laramie. When within a couple of days'
drive of the fort we came to a building which proved to be a store, and
which was surrounded by several wigwams. Upon halting and going into the
store, we found ourselves face to face with the man we were wanting to
meet, Mr. McClosky. He was glad to see us, and overjoyed to receive the
package of letters. He stepped out of doors and gave a whoop or two, and
immediately Indians began to come in from all directions. He ordered
them to take our stock out on the ranch, feed and guard it, and bring it
in in the morning. He treated us generously to supper and breakfast,
including many delicacies to which we had long been strangers. In
consideration of my bringing the letters to him, he invited me to sleep
in his store, and, in the morning, introduced me to his Indian wife and
two sons, also, to several other women who were engaged in an adjoining
room, in cutting and making buckskin coats, pants and moccasins,
presenting me with an elegant pair of the latter. His wife was a bright
and interesting woman, to whom he was deeply attached. His two boys were
bright, manly fellows, the oldest of whom, about ten years old, was soon
to be taken to St. Joe or Council Bluffs and placed in school.
At an early hour in the morning, the Indians brought in the stock, in
fine condition, and we hitched up and bade our host goodbye. He sent
word to his sister at home, and seemed much affected at our parting.
This was the first morning when, in starting out, we knew anything about
what was ahead of us; what we would meet, or what the roads and
crossings would be. In fact, every one we saw, were going the same as
ourselves, consequently, all were quite ignorant of what the day might
bring forth. On this morning, we knew the conditions of the roads for
several days ahead, and, that Fort Laramie was thirty-six miles before
us.
Shortly after going into camp toward sunset, a party of horsemen was
seen galloping toward us, who, on nearer approach, proved to be a band
of ten or twelve Indians. When within about one hundred yards, they
halted and dismounted, each holding his horse. The chief rode up to us,
saluted and dismounted. He was a sharp-eyed young fellow, showing
beneath his blanket the dress-coat of a private soldier and
non-commissioned officer's sword. He gave us to understand that they
were Sioux, and had been on the warpath for some Pawnees, also that they
were hungry and would like to have us give them something to eat. After
assuring him that we would do so, he ordered his men to advance, which
they did after picketing their ponies, coming up and setting themselves
on the grass in a semi-circle.
We soon noticed that they carried spears made of a straight sword-blade
thrust into the end of a staff. On two or three of the spears were
dangling one or more fresh scalps, on which the blood was yet scarcely
dry. On pointing to them, one of the Indians drew his knife, and taking
a weed by the top, quickly cut it off, saying as he did so, "Pawnees."
His illustration of how the thing was done was entirely satisfactory.
We gave the grub to the chief, who in turn, handed it out to the men as
they sat on the ground. When through eating, they mounted their ponies,
waved us a salute and were off.
The balance of the day was spent in writing home letters, which we
expected to deliver on the morrow at the post.
About 9 o'clock the next morning, we came to Laramie River, near where
it empties into the North Platte, which we crossed on a bridge, the
first one we had seen on the whole route. At this point a road turns
off, leading up to the fort, about one mile distant. Being selected to
deliver the mail, I rode out to the fort, which was made up of a
parade-ground protected by earth-works, with the usual stores, quarters,
barracks, etc., the sutler and post-office being combined. On entering
the sutler's, about the first person I saw was the young leader of the
Indians, who had lunched at our camp the afternoon before. He was now
dressed in the uniform of a soldier, recognizing me as soon as we met
with a grunt and a "How."
Delivering the mail, I rode out in another direction to intercept the
train. When about one-half mile from the fort I came to a sentinel,
pacing his beat all alone. He was just as neat and clean as though doing
duty at the general's headquarters, with his spotless white gloves,
polished gun, and accoutrements. In a commanding tone of voice, he
ordered me to halt. Asking permission to pass, which was readily
granted, I rode on a couple of miles, when I met some Indians with their
families, who were on the march with ponies, dogs, women, and papooses.
Long spruce poles were lashed each side of the ponies' necks, the other
ends trailing on the ground. The poles, being slatted across, were made
to hold their plunder or very old people and sometimes the women and
children. The dogs, like the ponies, were all packed with a pole or two
fastened to their necks; the whole making an interesting picture.
Overtaking the train about noon, we camped at Bitter Cottonwood Creek,
the location being beautifully described by the author of the novel,
"Prairie Flower."
Our standard rations during these days consisted of hardtack, bacon, and
coffee; of course, varying it as we could whenever we came to a
Government fort. I recall how, on a certain Sunday afternoon, we men
decided to make some doughnuts, as we had saved some fat drippings from
the bacon. Not one of us had any idea as to the necessary ingredients or
the manner of compounding them, but we remembered how doughnuts used to
look and taste at home. So we all took a hand at them, trying to imitate
the pattern as well as our ignorance and poor judgment would suggest.
Well, they looked a trifle peculiar, but we thoroughly enjoyed them, for
they were the first we had since leaving home, and proved to be the
last until we were boarding in California.
One thing was sure; our outdoor mode of living gave us fine appetites
and a keen relish for almost anything. And then again, persons can
endure almost any sort of privation as long as they can see a gold mine
ahead of them, from which they are sure to fill their pockets with
nuggets of the pure stuff. What a happy arrangement it is on the part of
Providence that not too much knowledge of the future comes to us at any
one time! Just enough to keep us pushing forward and toward the ideal we
have set for ourselves, which, even though we miss it, adds strength to
purpose as well as to muscle. A worthy object reached for and missed is
a first step towards success.