Perhaps we were pretty big boys--Jack and I. In fact, I'm
afraid we were so big that we haven't grown much since. But Ollie
was a boy, anyhow; he couldn't have been more than a dozen years
old, and we looked upon him as being a very small boy indeed;
though when folks saw us starting off, some of them seemed to
think that we were as boyish as he, because, they said, it was
such a foolish thing to do; and in some way, I'm sure I don't
know how, boys have got the reputation of always doing foolish
things. "They're three of a kind," said Grandpa Oldberry, as he
watched us weigh anchor; "their parents oughter be sent fer."
Well, it's hard to decide where to begin this true history.
We didn't keep any log on this voyage of the Rattletrap. But I'll
certainly have to go back of the time when Grandpa Oldberry
expressed his opinion; and perhaps I ought to explain how we
happened to be in that particular port. As I said, we--Jack and
I--were pretty big boys, so big that we were off out West and in
business for ourselves, though, after all, that didn't imply that
we were very old, because it was a new country, and everybody was
young; after the election the first fall it was found that the
man who had been chosen for county judge wasn't quite twenty-one
years of age yet, and therefore, of course, couldn't hold office;
and we were obliged to wait three weeks till he had had his
birthday, and then to have a special election and choose him
again. Everybody was young except Grandpa Oldberry and Squire
Poinsett.
But I was trying to account for our being in the port of
Prairie Flower. Jack had a cheese-factory there, and made small
round cheeses. I had a printing-office, and printed a small
square newspaper. In my paper I used to praise Jack's cheeses,
and keep repeating how good they were, so people bought then; and
Jack used, once in a while, to give me a cheese. So we both
managed to live, though I think we sometimes got a little tired
of being men, and wished we were back home, far from thick round
cheeses and thin square newspapers.
One evening in the first week in September, when it was
raining as hard as it could rain, and when the wind was blowing
as hard as it could blow, and was driving empty boxes and
barrels, and old tin pails, and wash-boilers, and castaway hats
and runaway hats and lost hats, and other things across the
prairie before it, Jack came into my office, where I was setting
type (my printer having been blown away, along with the boxes and
the hats), and after he had allowed the rain to run off his
clothes and make little puddles like thin mud pies on the dusty
floor, he said:
[Illustration: The Voyage First Suggested]
"I'm tired of making poor cheeses."
"Well," I answered, "I'm tired of printing a poor newspaper."
"Let's sell out and go somewhere," continued Jack.
"All right," I said. "Let's."
So we did.
Of course the Rattletrap wasn't a boat which sailed on the
water, though I don't know as I thought to mention this before.
In fact, a water boat wouldn't have been of any use to us in
getting out of Prairie Flower, because there wasn't any water
there, except a very small stream called the Big Sioux River,
which wandered along the prairie, sometimes running in one
direction and sometimes in the other, and at other times standing
still and wondering if it was worth while to run at all. The port
of Prairie Flower was in Dakota. This was when Dakota was still a
Territory, three or four years, perhaps, before it was cut into
halves and made into two States. So, there being no water, we of
course had to provide ourselves with a craft that could navigate
dry land; which is precisely what the Rattletrap was-namely, a
"prairie schooner."
"I've got a team of horses and a wagon," went on Jack, that
rainy night when we were talking. "You've got a pony and a
saddle. We've both got guns. When we drive out of town some stray
dog will follow us. What more 'll we want?"
"Nothing," I said, as I clapped my stick down in the
space-box. "We can put a canvas cover on the wagon and sleep in
it at night, and cook our meals over a camp-fire, and--and--have
a time."
"Of course--a big time. It's a heavy spring-wagon, and there
is just about room in it behind the seat for a bed. We can put on
a cover that will keep out rain as well as a tent, and carry a
little kerosene-oil stove to use for cooking if we can't build a
fire out-doors for any reason. We can take along flour,
and-and--and salt, and other things to eat, and shoot game,
and--and--and have a time."
We became so excited that we sat down and talked till
midnight about it. By this time the rain had stopped, and when we
went out the stars were shining, and the level ground was covered
with pools of water.
"If it was always as wet as this around here we could go in a
genuine schooner," said Jack.
"Yes, that's so. But what shall we call our craft?"
"I think 'Rattletrap' would be a good name," said Jack.
"I don't think it's a very pretty name," I replied.
"You wait till you get acquainted with that wagon, and you
will say it's the best name in the world, whether it's pretty or
not. You don't know that wagon yet. The tongue is spliced, the
whiffletrees are loose, the reach is cracked, the box is tied
together with a rope, the springs creak, the wheels wabble, lean
different ways, and never follow one another."
"Do they all turn in the same direction?" I asked.
"I don't believe they do. It would be just like one to turn
backward while the other three were going forward."
"We'll call our craft the Rattletrap, then. Good-night."
"Good-night," said Jack; and we parted, each to dream of our
approaching cruise.
[Illustration: Preparations]
In a week we were busy getting ready to start. I found, when
I looked over the wagon as it stood back of the cheese-factory,
that it was much as Jack had described it, only I noticed that
the seat as well as the springs creaked, and that a corner was
broken off the dash-board. But we set to work upon it with a
will. We tightened up the nuts and screws all over it, and wound
the broken pole with wire. We nailed together the box so that the
rope could be taken off, and oiled the creaking springs. We had
no trouble in finding a top, as half the people in the country
had come in wagons provided with covers only a year or so before.
We got four bows and attached them to the box, one at each end,
and the other two at equal distances between. These bows were
made of hard-wood, and were a quarter of an inch thick and an
inch and a half wide. They ran up straight on either side for two
or three feet, and then rounded over, like a croquetwicket, being
high enough so that as we stood upright in the wagon-box our
heads would just nicely clear them. Over this skeleton we
stretched our white canvas cover, and tied it down tightly along
the sides. This made what we called the cabin. There was an ample
flap in front, which could be let down at night and fastened back
inside during the day. At the rear end the cloth folded around,
and was drawn together with a "puckering-string," precisely like
a button-bag. By drawing the string tightly this back end could
be entirely closed up; or the string could be let out, and the
opening made any size wanted. After the cover was adjusted we
stood off and admired our work.
"Looks like an elephant on wheels," said Jack.
"Or an old-fashioned sun-bonnet for a giantess," I added.
"Anyhow, I'll wager a cheese it'll keep out the rain, unless
it comes down too hard," said Jack. "Now for the smaller parts of
our rigging, and the stores."
On the back end we fastened a feed-box for the horses, as
long as the wagon-box was wide, and ten or twelve inches square,
with a partition in the middle. We put stout iron rings in the
corners of this, making a place to tie the horses. On the
dash-board outside we built another box, for tools. This was
wedge-shaped, about five inches wide at the top, but running down
to an inch or two at the bottom, and had a hinged cover. We put
aboard a satchel containing the little additional clothing which
we thought we should need. Things in this line which did not seem
to be absolutely necessary were ruled out--indeed, for the sake
of lightness we decided to take just as little of everything that
we could. We made another box, some two feet long, a foot deep,
and fourteen inches wide, with a hinged cover, which we called
the "pantry," for our supply of food. This we stood in the wagon
with the satchel. Usually in the daytime after we started each of
these rode comfortably on the bed back of the seat. This bed was
a rather simple affair, made up of some bed-clothing and pillows
arranged on a thick layer of hay in the bottom of the wagon-box.
Our small two-wick oil-stove we put in front next to the
dash-board, a lantern we hung up on one of the bows, and a big
tin pail for the horses we suspended under the wagon.
"Since you're going to be cook," I said to Jack, "you tend to
getting the dishes together."
"They'll be few enough," he answered. "I don't like to wash
'em. Tin mostly, I guess; because tin won't break."
So he put a few knives and forks and spoons, tin plates and
cups, a frying-pan, a small copper kettle, and a few other
utensils in another box, which also found a home on the bed.
Other things which we did not forget were a small can of
kerosene; two half-gallon jugs, one for milk and one for water; a
basket for eggs; a nickel clock (we called it the chronometer);
and in the tool-box a hatchet, a monkey-wrench, screw-driver,
small saw, a piece of rope, one or two straps, and a few nails,
screws, rivets, and similar things which might come handy in case
of a wreck.
"Now for the armament and the life-boat," said Jack.
For armament Jack contributed a double-barrelled shot-gun and
a heavy forty-five-calibre repeating rifle, and I a light
forty-four-calibre repeating rifle, and a big revolver of the
same calibre (though using a slightly shorter cartridge), with a
belt and holster. This revolver we stored in the tool-box,
chiefly for use in case we were boarded by pirates, while the
guns we hung in leather loops in the top of the cover. In the
tool-box we put a good supply of ammunition and plenty of
matches. We also each carried a match-box, a pocket compass, and
a stout jack-knife.
"Now, how's your life-boat?" asked Jack.
I led her out. She was a medium-sized brown Colorado pony,
well decorated with brands, and with a white face and two white
feet. She wore a big Mexican saddle and a horse-hair bridle with
a silver bit.
"She'll do," said Jack. "In case of wreck, we'll escape on
her, if possible. She'll also be very handy in making landings
where the harbor is poor, and in exploring unknown coasts."
[Illustration: Grandpa Oldberry Presages Disaster]
All of this work took several days, but when it was done the
Rattletrap was ready for the voyage, and we decided to start the
next morning.
"She's as prairie-worthy a craft as ever scoured the plain,"
was Jack's opinion; "and if we can keep the four wheels from
starting in opposite directions we'll be all right."
But where was Ollie all this while? And who was Ollie,
anyhow? Ollie was Jack's little nephew, and he lived back East
somewhere--I don't remember where. The nearer we got ready to
start, the more firmly Jack became convinced that Ollie would
like to go along, so at last he sent for him to come, and he
arrived the night before our start. Ollie liked the idea of the
trip so much that he simply stood and looked at the wagon, the
guns, the pony, and the horses, and was speechless. At last he
managed to say:
"Uncle Jack, it'll be just like a picnic, won't it?"
The next morning we started as early as we could. But it was
not before people were up.
"Where be they going?" asked Grandpa Oldberry.
"Oh, Nebraska, and Wyoming, and the Black Hills, and any
crazy place they hear of," answered Squire Poinsett.
"They'll all be scalped by Injuns," said Grandpa Oldberry.
"Ain't the Injuns bad this fall?"
"So I was a-reading," returned the Squire. "And in the hills
I should be afeared of b'ar."
"Right," assented Grandpa. "B'ar and sim'lar varmints. And
more 'specially hossthieves and sich-like cutthroats. I
disremember seeing three scalawags starting off on such a fool
trip since afore the war."