SOCIETY IN THE WILDERNESS
Late in the afternoon of June 18th, when the tin supper dishes had been
laid aside and the men were enjoying their after-dinner smoke, the four
closely parked groups of wagons, comprising as many camps separated from
each other by perhaps a hundred feet in distance, seemed for the time to
be in a condition of perfect serenity. The members of each party by
itself were quietly awaiting developments.
Dan and I strolled out toward the fort, and from a distance watched the
movements of mounted men at that post. Soon we observed a long mule
train approaching from the east beyond Kearney. It halted for a few
moments, and then like a huge serpent it slowly circled round the
reservation; and by orders from the guards its wagons were finally
corralled beyond our camp.
As was the custom with all large outfits, the train, although moving in
an unbroken line, consisted of two divisions. On being ordered to
corral, the head wagon of the first division made a sharp _detour_ to
the right, followed by the succeeding teams, and finally turning to the
left, that division formed a great semi-circle. The first team was
halted at a designated point at which was to be the opening of the
proposed corral; and each of the mules of the succeeding teams of that
division was made to swing suddenly to the left after bringing the great
wagons rather close together. On reaching the point from which the first
division made its _detour_, the head team in the second division swung
sharply out in the opposite direction, turning again as it advanced to
meet the leading team in the first division, and before stopping, each
of the teams of the second division was also made to swing suddenly
toward the center of what became a great circle or enclosure in which
all the mules were unharnessed and temporarily confined. This method of
corralling was universal with western freighters.
In case of an unexpected attack, or for other obvious reasons a
fortification of wagons was quickly made, with all the stock massed
within the enclosure, and the work was accomplished in the time required
for the train to travel its own length. The immense wagons of this train
were of the type known as the Espenschied, a kind largely used by the
Government. They were heavily built, with very high boxes projecting
slightly both at the front and rear, like the ends of a scow boat, and
like all wagons used on the plains, were roofed with regulation canvas
tops supported by bows. After the three hundred or more mules of this
train had been unharnessed, they were driven in a herd from the mouth of
the corral several miles from camp, to a place where they might find
some feed in the valleys, there to be guarded through the night by
herders. All the processes in these evolutions were commonplace to any
plainsman, but may not be entirely familiar to modern palace car
travelers.
There also rolled round the Kearney reservation closely in the wake of
the big train, a small outfit consisting of half a dozen wagons with
horse teams. Under directions from the post, it also camped on the
barren bottom land west of the fort. There was, therefore, now camped
upon the arid plain beyond Dobytown a sufficient number of armed men and
wagons to meet the requirements of the War Department for two trains. It
was accordingly ordered that the big mule train should pull out in the
morning, and the remaining outfits should unite and follow in another
body.
The muffled roar of the hoofs of the galloping mule herd, urged on by
the yells of the mounted herders as they were rushing toward the corral,
was the signal for the beginning of activities on the following morning.
By the aid of the men the animals were driven into the enclosure. The
vociferous braying of the mules mingled with the clamorous voices of the
drivers, as each struggled to secure and bring into subjection his own
big team of eight or ten mules. It was with remarkable celerity that the
long-eared animals were harnessed to their respective wagons, and the
command to roll out was given by the captain. Accompanied by the
vehement shouts of the drivers and the cracking of whips, the train of
forty wagons gradually uncoiled itself, stretching slowly out into the
road, and in a solid line perhaps two-thirds of a mile in length
"trekked" westward in a cloud of dust.
The time for our own departure soon arrived, and all who remained of the
campers on the plains of Dobytown were ordered to move on. Doctor
Brown's two wagons and our own teams, lined out in the van, were
followed by the two outfits with the Hostetter's Bitters, and the last
arrival was in the rear. All were found to be properly armed, and all
other requirements of the Government being satisfied, we were soon
following the windings of the trail. Among other items of freight which
were being transported by our combined outfit, was a full wagon load of
whiskey in four-gallon tin-box cans, and another wagon containing
material for a distilling plant to be used in Idaho.
The orders of the War Department did not provide that after leaving any
post a train should thereafter continue as a consolidated organization.
To avoid unnecessary dust, and for other reasons, it was therefore
mutually agreed among the parties composing our train that we should
separate at our convenience.
With love for the country as God has made it, we gladly rolled out
westward from Kearney City; away from the hybrid civilization, its dirty
dives, its gambling dens and gamesters, who, like the flotsam on the
crest of a rising flood, have too often been upon the surface near the
front of western migration, depraving and demoralizing even the savages.
Although the writer has devoted much time to travel, none of his
journeys has been the source of more profound interest than were the
first months spent in those broad areas of the West in which there were
no visible traces of the white man's presence. The cities and states of
America have struggled to increase their population by immigration,
apparently on the theory that the rate of that increase was to be the
measure of growth in the happiness and prosperity of its people. When
our national heritage shall have been partitioned among the nations of
the earth, and the wild, wooded hillsides shall have been denuded by axe
and fire, giving place for farms and cities, then they whose fortune it
has been in childhood to roam through the primitive forests or over the
yet free and trackless plains, would hardly exchange the memories of
those years for a cycle on the streets of Constantinople or New York.
Impelled by such sentiment, we soon separated from the train, to the
mutual protection of which we had been assigned by the officers at Fort
Kearney, and with the Browns took our chances against the Indians.
As soon as we were well away from the Fort, I again strayed out as I
often did later, and with rifle upon my shoulder was soon striding over
the highlands south of the river. It was a pleasant diversion to get out
of the level valley, which at this point spread out some miles back to
the bluffs. For a brief rest I selected an eligible spot, from which a
wide view of the surrounding country was laid open. The atmosphere was
wonderfully dry, clear, and exhilarating, and there seemed to be no
suggestion of moisture either in the air or in all the broad landscape
except in the muddy waters of the distant Platte. The thin grass, even
thus early in the season, was scanty in growth and brown, as if touched
by autumn.
Along the banks of the river further east we had in places observed
trees, chiefly cottonwood, but from the bluff where I now stood, hardly
a bush was visible save only upon the islands in the river, nearly all
of which, except such newly formed sand bars as from year to year are
shifted by each successive flood, were rather well wooded,--I knew not,
but wondered, why.
Recalling to mind the prairies and openings of the North Mississippi
River country, I remembered that in many cases those prairies ended at
the banks of a stream, on the other side of which a dense and extensive
forest began sharply at the water's edge. Fox, Bark and other rivers, as
they were sixty years ago, were fair illustrations of this fact, but now
even those forests are gone. It seemed to me that timber must at some
time have grown upon all those Nebraska plains and prairies. The fact
that trees still remained where protected by a stream would indicate
that far-reaching and probably repeated fires have swept across those
countries and stopped at the shore. The destruction of large areas of
timber would increase the aridity of the climate, just as the later
cultivation of what was once the plains has caused an increase in
humidity.
The belief to which such reflections seemed to guide me, that those
western plains were once wooded, was strengthened by the discovery of
large sections of petrified wood, which I found on the high and now
treeless land farther west, apparently _in situ_, where they had grown.
My side-trip out upon these uplands was inspired quite as much by a
desire to hunt game, as to formulate theories concerning the prehistoric
conditions of the country. Not strange, then, that I became suddenly
interested in a small herd of antelopes, which I discerned some distance
to the southward, the first that I had seen under favorable conditions.
Knowing their senses of smell and hearing to be wonderfully acute, I
felt confident that no approach could be successfully made from the
windward side, and that my movements must be carefully concealed if I
hoped to get within reach of the vigilant animals, for the Henry rifle
was not a long range gun. Being familiar with the oft repeated story,
that expert hunters frequently attach a bright red handkerchief to the
top of a ramrod, the other end of which is stuck in the ground, and that
this decoy will attract the antelope, I determined to adopt that
stratagem. I had a silk handkerchief, as did many men in that day. As
repeating rifles have no ramrods, and no bush or stick was available, I
propped up the gun, surmounted by the handkerchief, upon a little mound
in sight of the game, and lying on my face, concealed in a slight
depression, waited patiently for developments. The wary animals were not
enticed by the sham allurement.
Any earnest hunter is willing to subject himself to any reasonable
humiliation to achieve success. Therefore, upon my knees with rifle in
one hand I crawled abjectly for a full hour over the gravelly soil,
keeping to the leeward as much as possible. This devotional exercise was
continued until I discovered that my trousers were worn through to the
skin, and that the tissues were beginning to yield to abrasion, which
threatened soon to reach through to the bones of my knees.
The mess certainly needed meat; therefore I adopted other tactics.
Abandoning the fruitless efforts to reach the game by stealth, I rose to
my feet but was instantly discovered. I sent two or three shots at a
venture as the little herd faced me, but the bullets fell short of the
mark, and with a few bounds the game was over the hills and far away. It
became clear to me that the capture of the alert antelope, on the open
plain, is quite a different undertaking from the shooting of deer in the
forest. It would have been a far greater pleasure, and quite as easy, to
have written that I went back to the trail for horses, and again
returned with two fine antelope which were proudly exhibited amid the
grateful plaudits of the admiring camp!--but the statement would lack
veracity if not verisimilitude. It is true, however, that we did secure
several antelope later.
A description of this out-of-door life would be incomplete if it failed
to give at least a glimpse of a certain type of unanticipated events,
which now and then were unfolded in our pathway; exotics quite out of
their native setting, like an oil painting in a woodshed. Now, on that
very night, Doctor Brown had pitched his big tent about a mile south of
our camp. In the stillness of the evening, we heard issuing from it the
sound of several voices in well rendered music. The familiar melodies
were like a letter from home and in pleasing contrast with the yelping
of prairie wolves, to which we had grown accustomed.
In the morning, when we moved out into line the Browns were in advance.
The ladies sat upon their horses gracefully, as Kentucky girls usually
do, using old-fashioned side saddles. The cow-girl saddle even in the
West appears then not yet to have come into use. Fred addressed the
young ladies, expressing appreciation of the music we heard on the
preceding evening. They did not seem to have suspected that their voices
would be heard at so great a distance. One of the boys, who rarely
attempted to produce any music (except now and then a rollicking negro
melody), spoke to the young ladies in unqualified praise of the music
sometimes discoursed in our camp, whereupon the Doctor at once invited
us to come over that evening and bring any noise-producing instruments
that we might boast. With some proper if not necessary apology for the
undeserved compliment from our companion, we accepted the invitation,
stating that we should come, not indeed in hope of contributing anything
of value to the music, but in the pleasant expectation of meeting Mrs.
Brown and also of gaining more knowledge from the Doctor, who appeared
to be a man from whom we might learn very much, as he seemed to be well
informed in botany and geology. Incidentally (!) we hoped to meet the
young ladies again.
The regular evening chores having been performed, the boys proceeded to
shave, and otherwise to prepare for the evening call. The bottom of
their "pants" remained tucked in their long-topped boots, but
shoeblacking was a luxury not to be obtained. Flannel shirts without
coats and waistcoats were regarded as _costume de rigueur_ for the place
and occasion. Thus attired we sauntered over to the Browns just as the
sun was sinking in the west. The young ladies had put some fresh ribbons
in their hair, and were attractively dressed for such an _al fresco_
gathering. The wagon seat was placed upon the ground and along with some
boxes and a couple of camp chairs served us admirably. The preparations
for the evening entertainment have been described in such detail solely
that the events of the coming night may be better understood.
We returned to our camp at a seasonable hour. The air of the early
evening had been unusually soft and still. Fred having already pitched
his little tent, had turned into it with Ben for sleep, while I sought
an eligible spot on the open ground, and rolled up in my blankets. Not
long after midnight Paul, who was on guard, was startled by a vivid
flash of lightning in the southwest. The sleepers were aroused, and
peering out from their blankets saw signs of an approaching storm, for
the fleecy clouds, which often presage the coming tempest were rolling
in a threatening manner. It was thought prudent at once to drive the
stakes of the tent more firmly, and tie down the wagon covers; this done
we watched the rising clouds. We did not wait long, for hardly ten
minutes had passed when the squall suddenly burst upon us with great
fury, accompanied with a deluge of driving rain. The wagon covers
creaked, and in two or three minutes the little tent was lifted and
overturned. The horses picketed near-by were seen to run hither and
thither in alarm, and some of them broke away. In the midst of the
severest gust, a woman's voice in a tone indicating great alarm, came
from the direction of the Doctor's camp.
"They are in trouble over at the Browns," said one.
"And why not?" was the reply, as the tempest shrieked and the driving
rain poured upon us. We could now do no good service where we were and
therefore started rapidly in the direction of the Browns' tent,
shouting, so as to be heard above the roar of the storm, that we were
coming. Sure enough the family had been sleeping in their large wall
tent, and the squall had lifted it into the air, leaving it flapping in
the wind and held by one tent pin.
Everything that had been within it was drenched with rain. The Browns
were soaked and we were soaked, but what was worse, the gale had carried
away upon its wings many light articles likely to be much needed in the
morning. They had not arranged their wagons for sleeping, as we had
arranged ours, having relied upon their tents for such purposes. There
they stood helpless in the driving storm, each of the ladies wrapped in
such blanket or covering as she happened to snatch when the tent was
lifted from over their heads.
Each flash of lightning revealed for an instant the pitiable condition
in which they were left. But they had doubtless passed through even
greater trials than this in their exile from their old Kentucky home
during the Civil War. When satisfied that the worst had passed, they
forced a laugh in contemplating their ridiculous situation, and proposed
to climb into their wagon and await the dawn. Mrs. Brown suggested that
possibly they had a few dry articles there, but in the saturated
condition in which they all were, with the water running down their
wrappings, they would deluge everything in the wagon. We then informed
the Doctor that Uncle Simeon Cobb, one of our party whom he had already
seen, and a fine old gentleman, on a slight cessation of the storm
would cheerfully migrate to another wagon from his own, an arrangement
that would afford all the ladies fair protection until morning. The
Doctor, remarking that this reminded him of some phases of his life in
the Confederate Army, gratefully accepted the offer. He decided to go
with us, and then return to watch out the night and protect the family
effects as best he could. The storm had nearly passed when the little
party slowly made its way over the wet plain through the darkness
to the Deacon's wagon, where Uncle Simeon was safe and dry in his
double-covered prairie schooner. He had heard the crashing of the
thunder and the shrieking of the gale, and readily comprehended the
situation on a brief explanation. His matches and lantern enabled him to
light his apartment; and in the course of time he donned his waterproof,
and came forth amid the ladies' expressions of deepest regret that they
had been compelled to disturb his comfort. But they were thankful for a
harbor of refuge.
It was a great involuntary shower bath they had taken. One end of the
Deacon's wagon was wet in the morning. When the day began to dawn, the
sky was clear and bright. The Doctor then made many trips between the
two camps. The dry clothes of the ladies which he excavated from the
trunks in their wagon were transported in chunks, here a little and
there a little, but in his clumsiness and ignorance of woman's
requirements he seemed unable to produce the right articles. There were
too many of one kind of garment or too few of another to clothe his
family fully, in the conventional manner. As he tucked a tight bundle of
white or colored goods under the Deacon's wagon cover, after but a
moment of delay there came back through the canvas many sounds of
distress indicating the conviction that everything in the trunks was
topsy-turvy and that garments were strung along his entire pathway. It
was fully two hours before a full complement of apparel had been
transported the half mile between the camps, so that the feminine
members of the Brown family were able to emerge from under the wagon
cover. Scattered around in the wagon there remained for future rescue
many mysterious garments, diaphanous or bifurcated, all entirely out of
place in the Deacon's apartment, but possibly of some use in the future
society life in Denver. When the sun had dried the surface of the
ground, these and some others found elsewhere were collected, and the
girls now arrayed in town clothes, having filed back to their camp soon
appeared to be taking an inventory of what are conveniently termed
dry-goods but which were now very wet. In the meantime the boys, jumping
upon horses, rode in the direction taken by the storm; and here and
there, caught upon stunted grubs or bushes, were found various articles.
One of the straw hats had been carried fully two miles. During the
forenoon both camps had the appearance of laundry establishments, a
multitude of garments being spread out to dry in the sun.