The port of Prairie Flower was in the eastern part of the
Territory of Dakota. It stood out on an open plain a half-dozen
miles wide, which seemed to be the prairie itself, though it was
really the valley of the Big Sioux River, that funny stream which
could run either way, and usually stood still in the night and
rested. To the east and west the edges of this valley were
faintly marked by a range of very low bluffs, so low that they
were mere wrinkles in the surface of the earth, and made the
valley but very little lower than the great plain which rolled
away for miles to the east and for leagues to the west.
It was a beautiful morning a little after the middle of
September that the Rattletrap got away and left Prairie Flower
behind. The sun had been up only half an hour or so, and the
shadow of our craft stretched away across the dry gray plain like
a long black streak without end. The air was fresh and dewy. The
morning breeze was just beginning to stir, and down by the river
the acres of wild sunflowers were nodding the dew off their
heads, and beginning to roll in the first long waves which would
keep up all day like the rolling of the ocean. We shouted
"Good-bye" to Grandpa Oldberry and Squire Poinsett, but they only
shook their heads very seriously. The cows and horses picketed on
the prairie all about the little clump of houses which made up
the town looked at us with their eyes open extremely wide, and no
doubt said in their own languages, like Grandpa Oldberry, that
they had no recollection of seeing any such capers as this for
many years.
"See here," I said, suddenly, to Jack, "where's that dog you
said was going to follow us?"
"You just hold on," answered Jack.
"Oh, are we going to have a dog, too?" asked Ollie.
"You wait a minute," insisted Jack.
Just then we passed the railroad station. Jack craned his
head out of the front end of the wagon. Ollie and I did the same.
Lying asleep on the corner of the station platform we saw a dog.
He was about the size of a rather small collie; or, to put it
another way, perhaps he was half as big as the largest-size dog.
If dogs were numbered like shoes, from one to thirteen, this
would have been about a No. 7 dog. He was yellow, with short
hair, except that his tail was very bushy. One ear stood up
straight, and the other lopped over, very much wilted. Jack
whistled sharply. The dog tossed up his head, straightened up his
lopped ear, let fall his other ear, and looked at us. Jack
whistled again, and the dog came. He ran around the wagon, barked
once or twice, sniffed at the pony's heels and got kicked at for
his familiarity, yelped sharply, and came and looked up at us,
and wagged his bushy tail with a great flourish.
"He wants to get in. Give him a boost, Ollie," said Jack.
Ollie clambered over the dash-board and jumped to the ground.
He pushed the dog forward, and he leaped up and scrambled into
the wagon, jumped over on the bed, where he folded his head and
tail on his left side, turned around rapidly three times, and lay
down and went to sleep, one ear up and one ear down.
[Illustration: Snoozer]
"He's just the dog for the Rattletrap," said Jack. "We'll
call him Snoozer."
"That looks a good deal like stealing to me, Uncle Jack,"
said Ollie. "Doesn't he belong to somebody?"
"No," said Jack, "he doesn't belong to anybody but us. He
came here a week ago with a tramp. The tramp deserted him, and
rode away on the trucks of a freight train; but Snoozer didn't
like that way of travelling, because there wasn't any place to
sleep, so he stayed behind. Since then he has tried to follow
every man in town, but none of them would have him. He's a
regular tramp dog, not good for anything, and therefore just the
dog for us."
Snoozer was the last thing we shipped, and after taking him
aboard we were soon out of the harbor of Prairie Flower, and
bearing away across the plain to the southwest. In twenty minutes
we ware among the billowing sunflowers, standing five or six feet
high on other side of the road, which seemed like a narrow crack
winding through them. Ollie reached out and gathered a handful of
the drooping yellow blossoms. The pony was tied behind carrying
her big saddle, and tossing her head about, and showing that she
was very suspicious of the whole proceedings, and especially
of a small flag which Ollie had fastened to the top of the
wagon-cover, which fluttered in the fresh morning breeze. Snoozer
slept on and never stirred. At last the road came to the river,
and then followed close along beside its bank, which was only a
foot or so high. Ollie was interested in watching the long grass
which grew in the bottom of the stream and was brushed all in one
direction by the sluggish current, like the silky fur of some
animal. After a while we came to a gravelly place which was a
ford, and crossed the stream, stopping to let the horses drink.
The water was only a foot deep. As we came up on the higher
ground beyond the river we met the south wind squarely, and it
came in at the front of the cover with a rush. We heard a sharp
flutter behind, and then the wagon gave a shiver and a lurch, and
the horses stopped; then there was another shock and lurch, and
it rolled back a few inches.
"There," exclaimed Jack, "some of those wheels have begun to
turn backward! I told you!"
I looked back. Our puckering-string had given way, and the
rear of the cover had blown out loosely. This had been more than
the pony could stand, and she had broken her rope and run back a
dozen rods, where she stood snorting and looking at the wagon.
"First accident!" I cried. "She'll run home, and we'll have
to go back after her."
"Perhaps we can get around her," said Jack. "We'll try."
We left Ollie to hold the horses, and I went out around among
the sunflowers, while Jack stood behind the wagon with his hat
half full of oats. I got beyond her at last, and drove her slowly
toward the wagon. She snorted and stamped the ground angrily with
her forward feet; but at last she ventured to taste of the oats,
and finding more in the feed-box on the rear of the wagon, she
began eating them and forgot her fright.
"I guess we'd better not tie her, but let her follow," said
Jack. "As soon as we have gone a little ways she'll come to think
the wagon is home, and stick to it."
"Yes," I said. "I think she is really as great a tramp as
Snoozer, and just the pony for us." "Are we all tramps?" asked
Ollie.
"Well," said Jack, "I'm afraid Grandpa Oldberry thinks we
don't lack much of it. He says varmints will catch us."
"Do you think they will?" went on Ollie, just a little bit
anxiously.
"Oh, I guess not," said Jack. "You see, we've got four guns.
Then there's Snoozer."
"But will they try to catch us?"
"Well, I don't know. Grandpa Oldberry says the varmints are
awfully thick this fall."
"But what are varmints?"
"Oh, wolves, and b'ars, and painters, and--"
"What are painters?"
"Grandpa means panthers, I guess. Then there's Injuns, and
hoss-thieves, and--"
"There's a prairie-chicken!" I cried, as one rose up out of
the long grass.
"Perhaps we can get one for dinner," said Jack.
[Illustration: Mutiny of the Pony]
He took his gun and went slowly toward where the other had
been. Another whirred away like a shot. Jack fired, but missed
it. We started on, leaving the pony tossing her head and stamping
her feet in a great passion on account of the report of the gun;
but when she saw that we paid no attention to her and were
rapidly going out of sight she turned, after taking a long look
back at distant Prairie Flower, and came trotting along the road,
with her stirrups dangling at her sides, and soon was following
close behind.
Before we realized it the chronometer showed that it was
almost noon. By this time we had left the sea of sunflowers and
crept over the wrinkle at the western edge of the valley, and
were off across the rolling prairie itself. Still Snoozer never
stirred.
"I wonder when he'll wake up?" said Ollie.
"You'll see him awake enough at dinnertime," said Jack.
"Well, you'll see me awake enough then, too," answered Ollie.
"I'm hungry."
"We hardy pioneers plunging into the trackless waste of a new
and unexplored country never eat but one meal a day," said Jack.
"And that's always raw meat--b'ar-meat, generally."
"Well," said Ollie, "I don't see any b'ar-meat, or even
prairie-chicken-meat. Why didn't you hit the prairie-chicken,
Uncle Jack?"
"I'm not used to shooting at such small game," answered Jack,
solemnly. "My kind of game is b'ar--b'ar and other varmints."
Just then we passed a house, and down a little way from it,
close to the road, was a well.
"Here's a good place to have dinner," said Jack; so we drove
out by the side of the road and stopped. "If I'm to be cook,"
said Jack to me, "then you've got to take care of the horses and
do all the outside work. I'll be cook; you'll be rancher. That's
what we'll call you--rancher."
I unhitched the horses, tied them behind the wagon, and gave
them some oats and corn in the feed-box. The pony I fed in the
big tin pail near by. The grass beside the road was so dry, and
it was so windy, that we decided it was not safe to build a fire
outdoors, so Jack cooked pancakes over the oil-stove inside.
These with some cold meat he handed out to Ollie and me as we sat
on the wagon-tongue, while he sat on the dash-board. We were
half-way through dinner when we heard a peculiar whine, followed
by a low bark, in the wagon, and then Snoozer leaped out,
stretched himself, and began to wag his tail so fast that it
looked exactly like a whirling feather duster. We fed him on
pancakes, and he ate so many that if Jack had not fried some more
we'd have certainly gone hungry.
"I told you he was a true tramp," said Jack. "Just see his
appetite!"
After we had finished, and the horses had grazed about on the
dry grass some time, we started on. We hoped to reach a little
lake which we saw marked on the map, called Lake Lookout, for the
night camp; so we hurried along, it being a good distance ahead.
All the afternoon we were passing 'between either great fields
where the wheat had been cut, leaving the stubble, or beside long
stretches of prairie. There were a few houses, many of them built
of sod. Not much happened during the afternoon. Ollie followed
the example of Snoozer, and curled up on the bed and had a long
nap. We saw a few prairie-chickens, but did not try to shoot any
of them. The pony trotted contentedly behind. Just before night I
rode her ahead, looking for the lake. I found it to be a small
one, perhaps a half-mile wide, scarcely below the level of the
prairie, and generally with marshy shores, though on one side the
beach was sandy and stony, with a few stunted cottonwood-trees,
and here I decided we would camp. I went back and guided the
Rattletrap to the spot. Soon Jack had a roaring fire going from
the dry wood which Ollie had collected. I fed the horses and
turned them loose, and they began eagerly on the green grass
which grew on the damp soil near the lake. The pony I picketed
with a long rope and a strap around one of her forward ankles,
between her hoof and fetlock, as we scarcely felt like trusting
her all night. Snoozer got up for his supper, and after that
stretched himself by the fire and blinked at it sleepily. The
rest of us did much the same. After a while Ollie said.
"I think that bed in the wagon looks pretty narrow for two.
How are three going to sleep in it?"
"I don't think three are going to sleep in it," said Jack.
"Where are you going to sleep, then, Uncle Jack?"
Jack laughed. "I think," he said, "that the rancher and the
cook will sleep in the wagon, and let you sleep under the wagon.
Nothing makes a boy grow like sleeping rolled up in a blanket
under a wagon. You'll be six inches taller if you do it every
night till we get back."
"Well, I don't think so," said Ollie, just a little alarmed
at the prospect. "I'd prefer to sleep in the wagon. Maybe what
Grandpa Oldberry said about wild animals is so. You say you like
to shoot 'em, so you stay outside and do it--I don't."
At last it was arranged that Ollie and I should sleep inside
and Jack under the wagon. We were surprised to find how early we
were ready for bed. The long ride and the fresh air had given us
an appetite for sleep. So we soon turned in, the dog staying
outside with Jack.
"Good-night, Uncle Jack!" called Ollie, as we put out the
lantern and covered up in the narrow bed. "Look out for
painters!"
I was almost asleep when Ollie shook me, and whispered,
"What's that noise?"
I listened, and heard a regular, hollow, booming sound,
something like the very distant discharge of cannon.
"It's the horses walking on the ground-always sounds that way
in the night," I answered.
Again I was almost asleep when Ollie took hold of my arm, and
said, "What's that?"
[Illustration: Effect of a Strange Noise]
I once more listened, and recognized a peculiar creaking
noise as that made by the horses cropping off the grass. I
explained to Ollie, and then dropped off sound asleep. I don't
know how long it was, but after some time I was again roused up
by a nervous shake.
"Listen to that," whispered Ollie. "What can it be?"
I sat up cautiously and listened. It was a strange, rattling,
unearthly sound, which I could not account for any better than
Ollie.
"It's a bear," he whispered. "I heard them make that noise at
the park back home."
I was puzzled, and concluded that it must be some wild
animal. I took down one of the guns, crept softly to the front
end of the wagon, raised the flap, and looked out. The wind was
still, and the night air met my face with a cool, damp feeling.
The moon had just risen and the lake was like silver. I could see
the horses lying asleep like dark mounds. But the mysterious
noise kept up, and even grew louder. I grasped the gun firmly,
and let myself cautiously out of the front end of the wagon. Then
I climbed back in less softly and hung up the gun.
"Wh-what is it?" asked Ollie, in a faint whisper.
"It's your eloquent Uncle Jack snoring," I said. "He's one of
Grandpa Oldberry's sim'lar varmints."