Five small wooden huts originally brought from England and later
hauled forty miles or more across a camp on bullock-wagons to start
a new colony next to Indian territory. Each hut is about eight feet
square and they are a foot apart with the high grass cut off around
about in case of prairie fires. Three men from one end hut have
gone shooting deer or emus or whatever turns up, leaving a heap of
powder-flasks, guns, saddles, and clothes in one corner of their
shanty; blankets, etc., hanging out of the lower bunk, half-cover
and open box on the floor with eight pounds of loose powder in it.
The next hut is empty except when the owner comes to lie down, gasp,
and perspire. It is so hot that you can break a piece of grass, and
he is digging, with scarcely any clothes on, the first big corral
ditch. Once as he lies half stupidly, listening lazily to a crackling,
thinking that if he had sense enough he would wonder what it could
be. Then he gets up to see. Fire had started in some way in the heap
of clothes and was running up the thin boards to the roof. There is
not much room but there is a fork with which he begins to shovel out
the burning heap, and yell for water, which his brother, asleep in a
further hut, brings when he realizes what is wanted. This water was
thrown into the box of powder, but all this time the sparks have been
falling into it and the man wants to know why everything was not blown
to kingdom come before that water came.
[Illustration: A "Prairie" Fire.]
When the shooters got home there were remarks. Reminded me of the
story of two roughs in London who were talking over an article in a
paper about the improvement of the lower classes which one read to
the other, who remarked: "Yes, we're a bad lot, Bill, but we 'as our
fun. The other day there was a bloody fire and the bloody fire engine
come down the bloody street to the bloody 'ouse an' there was a bloody
ole fool standin' at the top winder, an' I says, jump, ye bloody fool
and me an' my mate Bill'll ketch yer in our blanket, an' the bloody
fool 'e jumps an' e' breaks 'is bloody neck--we 'adn't got no bloody
blanket."
[Illustration: "And Said as Plain as Whisper in the Ear, the Place is
Haunted."]
[Illustration: Sampans on the Yellow River.]