Alone in Track's End I repent of my hasty Action: with what I do at
the Headquarters House, and the whole Situation in a Nutshell.
When I came to think of it afterward I thought it was odd, but the
first thing that popped into my mind when I saw that the fire had gone
out was that perhaps there were no matches left in the town. I ran to
the match-safe so fast that I bumped my head against the wall. The
safe was almost full, and then it struck me that there were probably
matches in half the houses in town, and that I even had some in my
pocket.
I went over and peeped out of one corner of a window-pane where the
wind had come in and kept back the frost. The snow was driving down
the street like a whirling cloud of fog. I could hardly see the bank
building opposite. An awful feeling like sinking came over me as I
realized how matters stood; and the worst of it was that I had
brought it upon myself. I rushed into the dining-room and looked out
of a side window to see if the train might not be coming back; but
there was only the whirlwind of snow. I went back in the office and
threw myself on a lounge in one corner.
If any one says that I lay there with my face in a corn-husk pillow
and cried as if I were a girl, I'm not going to dispute him. If any
girl thinks that she can cry harder than I did, I'd like to see her
try it. But it, or something, made me feel better, and after a while I
could think a little. But I could not get over knowing that it was all
my own fault, and that I might be riding away on the train with
friends, and with people to see and talk to. I realized that it was
all my quick temper and stubbornness which was to blame, and
remembered how my mother had told me that it would get me into trouble
some day. "If Tom hadn't come at me so suddenly," I said out loud,
with my face still in the husk pillow, "I'd have agreed to it. Dear
old Tom, he meant all right, and I was a fool!"
When at last I sat up I found it was so dark that I could hardly see.
The wind was roaring outside, and I could feel fine snow against my
face from some crack. I was stiff and cold, and just remembered that I
had not had above a quarter of a meal all day. I thought I heard a
scratching at the door, and opened it. Something rushed in and almost
upset me; then I knew it was Kaiser, Sours's dog. I was never so glad
to see anything before. I dropped down on my knees and put my arms
around his neck and hugged him, and for all I know I may have kissed
him. I guess I again acted worse than a girl. I remember now that I
_did_ kiss the dog.
I got up at last and felt around till I found the match-safe, and lit
the wall lamp over the desk. I thought it made it so I could actually
see the cold. Kaiser seemed warm in his thick coat of black hair, and
wagged his tail like a good fellow. I don't know why it was, but I
thought I had never wanted to talk so badly before. "We're glad
they're gone, aren't we, Kaiser?" I said to him; then I thought that
sounded foolish, so I didn't say anything more, but set to work to
build the fire.
When I went to the shed at the back door for the kindling-wood I found
another friend, this time our cat, a big black-and-white one. I don't
think I was quite so foolish about her as I had been about the dog,
but I was glad to see her. After the fire was started I got a shovel
and cleared the snow out of the office. Outside it was already banked
halfway up the door, and the storm was still raging.
As I turned from putting some coal on the fire I happened to see the
hotel register lying on the desk. Another foolish notion seized me,
and I took up the pen and as well as I could with my stiff fingers
headed a page "December 17th," and below registered myself, "Judson
Pitcher, Track's End, Dakota Territory." I think the excitement must
have turned my brain, because I seemed to be doing silly things all
the time.
But I managed to stop my foolishness long enough to get myself some
supper; which I guess was what I needed, because I acted more sensibly
afterward. Everything in the house was frozen, but I thawed out some
meat, and ate some bread without its being thawed, and boiled a couple
of eggs, and had a meal which tasted as good as any I ever ate, and
with enough left for Kaiser and the cat, who was named Pawsy, though I
can't imagine where such a name came from.
The office was by this time quite comfortable. I had brought a small
table in from the kitchen and eaten my supper close to the stove.
Though it was pitch-dark outside, it was not yet six o'clock, and as I
felt calmer than I had before, I sat down in front of the fire to
consider how matters stood. I think I realized what I was in for
better than before, but I no longer felt like crying. If I remember
aright, it was now that I gave the first thought to Pike and his
gang.
"Well," I said, speaking out loud, just as if there was somebody to
hear me besides a cat and a dog, "I guess Pike won't do much as long
as this storm lasts. But after that, I don't know. Maybe I can hide if
they come." I thought a minute more and then said: "No, I won't do
that--I'll fight, if I have a chance. They won't have any way of
knowing that I am here alone, and if I can see them first I'll be all
right." That is what I _said_; but I remember that I felt pretty
doubtful about it all. I think I must have been trying not to let
Kaiser know that I was afraid.
After a while I fell to thinking of home and of my mother. When I
thought of how she would worry when she didn't hear from me, it gave
me an idea of leaving Track's End and trying to make my way east to
civilization. It seemed to me that with a few days of good weather I
ought to be able to get through if no more snow came; though I had no
idea how far I might have to go, since for all I knew Lac-qui-Parle
might also be abandoned; and, even if it were not, I knew that it had
no trains and that I would probably have to travel overland to the
other side of the Minnesota line before I could reach a settlement
with any connection with the outside world. I was before long very
gloomy thinking about my troubles; then I happened to remember the
horses and cow about which I had tried to quarrel with poor Tom Carr,
and I put on my overcoat and went out to look after them.
I thought the wind would carry me away, and I had to shovel ten
minutes by the light of a lantern half blown out before I could get
the door open. But when I did get in I found them glad to see me; and
I was glad to see them. And while shoveling away the snow I had
shoveled away my fit of the blues; and from that day to this I've
taken notice that the best way to get rid of trouble and feelings you
don't want is to go to work lively; which is a first-class thing to
remember, and I throw it in here for good measure.
The cow mooed at me, and even the horses whinnied a little, though
they were not what you might call children's pets, being broncos, and
more apt to take a kick at you than to try to throw you a kiss. The
chickens had gone to roost and didn't have much to say. They refused
to come down for their supper, but the horses and the cow were very
glad to get theirs. Then I milked the cow, told them all good-night,
made everything about the barn as snug as I could, and shouldered my
way through the storm to the house. I found both Kaiser and Pawsy wide
awake and waiting for me. I don't think they liked the house being so
deserted and lonesome. I gave them both some of the warm milk, and
took a share of it myself.
I was beginning to realize that I was tired by this time, and sat
down in a big chair before the fire. The stove was a round, cast-iron
one, shaped a good deal like a decanter. It burned soft coal, and, as
it was going well, and was warm enough in the room, I threw the door
open, making it seem very like a fireplace. I was over the excitement
of the day, and fell to looking at the situation again. This is the
way I made it out, to wit:
First, that I was alone, except for the animals, and in charge of a
whole town; that it was very improbable (as the blizzard still held)
that any train would or could get through very soon--perhaps not
before spring.
Second, that the animals consisted of one large, shaggy, black dog
(breed uncertain) named Kaiser; one large black-and-white cat named
Pawsy; one cow named Blossom; two bronco horses, one named Dick, the
other Ned; twenty-two hens and one rooster, without any particular
names except that I called one of the hens Crazy Jane.
Third, that there was enough hay in the barn for the horses and cow,
though other feed would be short unless I could find more about town
somewhere; that I ought to be able to scare up enough food for myself
by going through the stores, though some kinds might be short; that
there was plenty of coal.
Fourth, that there were guns of all kinds, and probably a good supply
of ammunition.
Fifth, that there might be $20,000 in a safe across the street.
Sixth, that there was a gang of cutthroats somewhere about who wanted
the money, and would come after it the minute they knew I was alone;
and might come sooner.
By this time I was sleepy; so I covered up Kaiser on one end of the
lounge, the cat on the other, put out the lamp, and went up-stairs and
popped into bed.