Later.--The boys came back very much discouraged after working an hour,
and said: “The blood will not flow, and he is swelling frightfully. I
fear he will die, for when the blood will not run and the animal begins
to swell, they cannot be saved.”
Mother said: “We will not let him die without further effort, at least.
Come on, Sarah, let us try what we can do for him.”
We melted a quart of lard and put it in a long-necked bottle (that we
had brought for the purpose of drenching horses or cattle), cut up
a lot of fat bacon into strips, put on our big aprons, and taking a
bucket of cold water, we were ready. Hillhouse said: “Don’t give him
water.” I answered, “You never mind, who is doing this?”
We were not long finding poor Joe. He seemed to be suffering
dreadfully. His nose was as hot as fire. It actually burned my hands
when I took hold of it to drench him with the lard. He seemed to
know we were trying to help him, and did not resist at all when I put
the bottle in the side of his mouth to pour the lard down his throat.
He looked at us with his great, soft, patient eyes in such a docile,
knowing manner, I felt sure he would not bite me, so I put my hand
away down his throat to make him swallow the strips of fat bacon. He
swallowed them as patiently as if he knew what they were for. We then
bathed his nose with the cold water, without letting him drink any, and
before we came away he seemed relieved, and the swelling had stopped
and he breathed much better. I believe he will live.
* * * * *
Saturday, August 27.
Joe did not die. This morning when Hillhouse went to see about him,
expecting to find him dead, he was grazing, and seemed as well as ever,
except his nose, which looks as if it had been scalded.
We came to Snake River ferry this morning, six miles from where we
camped last night. We paid eight dollars for our outfit crossing on the
ferry. As Nellie Bower and I were standing on the bank of the river
watching the wagons being ferried over, holding our ponies by their
bridles, a gentleman came near. Lifting his hat and bowing politely,
he said to me: “I will give one hundred dollars in clean gold dust for
that pony.” “This pony is not for sale, sir, at any price.”
We came from the ferry about two miles, and stopped for lunch. I told
Hillhouse what the man said.
“If I were you, I would certainly sell him, so many seem to want him.
He will very likely be stolen.”
“Oh, I can’t sell my pony.”
After lunch the men folks went to fish in Snake River. They had been
gone but a few minutes, when the man that wanted Dick rode into camp.
He rode straight to our wagons, and said:
“I will give you one hundred and ten dollars for that pony.”
I had begun to relent somewhat. I felt that it would not do to be
sentimental under existing circumstances. We had spent almost all our
money for toll, ferrying and other expenses on the road. It might
prove to be a serious matter to be in a strange place without money,
and if we fail to get employment we will be obliged to sell something,
and there is nothing we can spare so well as Dick. I knew the man had
offered all and more than I could expect to get for him.
But as Hillhouse was gone fishing and I could not think of selling my
pony myself, I said to the man:
“My brother is not here, and I cannot let him go.”
“Tell your brother to bring him to the ferry, and I will send you the
pay for him.”
“I think you need not expect him, for I am sure he will not come.”
He went away without Dick, and Hillhouse did not take him back, so I
have my pony yet. We came five miles and camped, as too long a drive is
not good for the poisoned cattle. I wish there was a longer distance
between us and the man that wants my pony.
Mr. Grier sold his riding horse at the ferry. He says:
“There is a party of half a dozen gentlemen going to the States
horseback. They are all supplied, except the man that wants your pony.
He has waited, trying to find a horse with an easy gait, and Dick is
the only one that has suited him. Oh, he will be back again, Miss
Raymond, and make another offer, and if you do not let him have him, I
don’t know what he will do, for he seems determined to get him.”
If he does come I will not dare to refuse him, but I do hope we are out
of reach of temptation. Dick is as fat as when we started. I comb and
brush him every day, and he shows his keeping. He always looks nice
and sleek. He is a bright bay, with heavy black mane and tail.