EN ROUTE
Tom's duties as a lieutenant were to supervise his column, ride ahead of
the train on lookout for possible obstructions or dangers, go on ahead
to creeks and see that the banks sloped enough to permit the wagons to
take them safely, to hunt out and bridge morasses and quagmires that
could not be avoided. If the banks were too steep he and others of the
caravan were to ride ahead with axes, shovels, and mattocks and cut a
sloping road through them; if a morass or a treacherous creek bed had to
be crossed they had to cut great numbers of saplings, branches, and
brush and build up a causeway of alternate layers of wood and dirt. This
would not take long and if properly done, every wagon could cross in
safety.
The caravan in movement should have presented a formation of wagons in
orderly array, preceded by the captain and officers, flanked at a good
distance on both sides by well-armed riders, and followed by a fairly
strong rear-guard; but no such ideal formation could be maintained
except under the discipline of a military or paid force. The flankers
rode far and wide searching endlessly for game and usually wound up with
the advance guard, a mile or more ahead. The rear guard dwindled rapidly
and soon joined the others far in advance, leaving the crawling wagons
entirely unprotected from any sudden attack by Indians who might have
lain concealed in one of the numerous prairie hollows.
There were four conditions every twenty-four hours especially liked by
the savages. One was during the night, between midnight and dawn;
another as the caravan got under way, when there was more or less
confusion and the wagons had broken the corral formation enough so it
could not be re-formed quickly; a third was during the day when every
man who did not have to drive was galivanting a mile or more away,
blazing at rattlesnakes or prairie dogs and making a fool of himself
generally, his thoughts on everything except the safety of the train he
had deserted; and the fourth was in the evening just as the animals were
being staked outside, when most of the men were busy with them and some
distance outside the wagon ramparts, many of the more careless being
unarmed. To offset these conditions so favorable to surprise attacks on
the caravan was one of the captain's most important duties, and the
urgent consideration of water and good grass many times complicated his
problems.
Captain Woodson at one time had been a trapper, and his early
experiences with the fur expeditions here stood him in good stead,
especially his knowledge about Indians. He continually hammered at the
men to flank properly and to scour the country on each side of the
caravan for a mile or more and to investigate every hollow and rise
capable of hiding horses. Before he called the halt for the "noonings"
or the encampments in the evenings, he urged that the surrounding
country be well scouted over and everything suspicious reported. For the
crews of the two cannons, which had been changed the morning following
the narrowly averted calamity of a few days back, he had picked men who
appeared to be calm and resourceful, and these weapons trundled along on
their wheeled carriages in a strategic position, their crews ordered not
to leave them unattended at any time during the day's march--but who
cared for orders?
The trail here being easy and plain, the banks of the streams cut by the
previous caravan, Tom dropped back after a brief exploration along the
flanks, which he made because the flankers would not, to join his
partner and their pack train, plodding along on the left-hand side of
Joe Cooper's wagons.
Hank was a placid, easy-going individual and cared little whether or not
he had company. For the last few days he had been highly amused by
watching several pack animals owned and led by tenderfeet, who had
learned neither to follow them nor to load them right. These green
travelers were continually in trouble. If they were not arguing with
mules gone balky because of unevenly distributed loads, or chasing some
running and kicking animal that scattered the contents of its pack far
and wide over the plain, they were collecting their possessions
piece-meal from a score of acres of prairie and hurriedly re-packing
somewhere behind the caravan, cursing, perspiring, out of breath, and
murderously savage. Some of them re-packed more than a dozen times a day
and were hard put even to keep the caravan in sight. Their natural anger
at their misfortunes was turned into a simmering or a coruscating rage,
that ever and anon burst out with volcanic force as they realized the
utter hopelessness of their position. This was for the first few days,
for the wiser ones used their eyes and ears and mouths to good
advantage, and soon got the knack of packing; but there were some who
seemingly were too dumb to learn.
Hank never obtruded any advice, but cheerfully explained the art of
packing to any man who sought him. He and his partner's animals never
shifted a pack on this smooth going, and this fact began to sink into
some of the tenderfeet, and they eagerly took lessons from the veteran.
It was not long before a spilled pack in that column of the train was an
uncommon occurrence. These eight mules behaved in an admirable manner
and there was a good reason for it. When they had been selected, only
those showing the unmistakable signs of the veteran pack mule were
chosen. The marks of the crupper, _aparejo_ and girth never would
disappear. Tenderfeet scornfully would have passed them by and chosen
sleek, smooth-haired animals of far better appearance; but Hank and Tom
did not make this mistake, realizing that here, indeed, beauty was only
skin deep.
Hank judged that it was about time to take full advantage of the mules'
early training and the results were regarded as downright miracles by
the greenhorns, who attempted to duplicate the system, but with
disastrous endings. One of the mules was an old mare, and her actions,
even in the corral at Independence, told Hank all about her. He now took
from a pack a bell and, riding up to the plodding, sedate pack animal,
fastened it around her neck. Then he tied her to the rear of the second
of Cooper's big wagons, until she should learn that this was to be her
place under all conditions, and dropped back farther and farther while
he watched the other seven. At the sound of the tinkling bell they had
pricked up their long ears and rolled them forward; a certain important
dignity came over each one and they went ahead with an air of
satisfaction that was so apparent that it was ludicrous. Hank grinned
and rode off to play rear guard all by himself, well knowing that his
seven animals would follow the old bell-mare wherever she led, whether
he was there or not. Later he rewarded her by changing her pack and
substituting that of the dwindling food supply, which grew lighter after
every camp. When he finally freed her from the wagon she moved up
alongside the off-wheel mule, for whom she seemed to have an abiding
affection, and from then on she would not stray from his side, nor her
seven followers from her.
On this occasion when Tom returned and found his partner absent, he
surmised that the trapper was off looking for an antelope to vary the
monotony of their fare and to save their bacon and flour. Until the
buffalo country was reached the caravan had to live on flour, bacon, and
perhaps beans, of which each traveler had a limited supply. The chief
reliance for food was the buffalo, and their range was still well ahead.
Tom and Hank, however, not knowing what contingency awaited them on the
Mexican end of the trail, had far exceeded the regular allowance per
man, of fifty pounds of flour, same of bacon, dozen pounds of coffee,
twenty-five pounds of sugar, and a goodly amount of salt. Topping one of
the packs, and dwarfing the patient mule nearly hidden under the load,
were two ten-gallon water casks, each with a few quarts sloshing around
inside. At every stop these kegs were shifted a little so as to give
each portion of them a soaking in turn. The powder, two twenty-five
pound kegs covered with oiled cloth and over that with a heavy, greased
bull-buffalo leather, were in the same packs with the bar lead and a
reserve supply of caps and patches. The bullet molds, nipple wrenches,
and other small necessaries were carried in their "possible" sacks, each
being a beautifully beaded and quilled bag obtained in their trade with
the Indians. Along with the ammunition each had packed a buffalo-hide
bag, fitted with shoulder, breast, and head lines; and should it become
necessary for them to disappear, without a mule, they were equipped to
remain in the mountains and hills for a long time. Later on they would
pack the big bags and keep them ready for instant use.
Tom found not only that his partner had gone, but that the city sports,
tiring of aimless riding ahead, had fallen back to the train and were
now riding leg to leg on both sides of Joe Cooper's small wagon, vying
with each other in their endeavors to be entertaining to Patience. They
were laughing uproariously when the plainsman appeared and one of them,
Dr. Whiting, acknowledged his introduction to Tom with an ironical grin.
Here, he thought, was a mountain yokel all ripe to play target for his
shafts of satire. He would shine out resplendently against this ignorant
plainsman and have a lot of fun in the bargain.
"Ah!" he exclaimed, his mouth open in pretended admiration. "Regular
Daniel Boone! I suppose you know how to bark squirrels; and barking
buffaloes must be an old trick with you by this time."
Tom regarded him thoughtfully. He did not mind the words, but the tone
in which they were spoken was distinctly offensive. He smiled
pleasantly. "Thar ain't no squirrels ter bark on th' prairies; but thar
air some barkin' prairie dogs, though they mostly chatter 'stead o'
bark. They set up an' make a lot o' noise, but don't amount to nothin'.
Th' funny part o' it is, th' dumber they air th' more they chatter. As
fer bein' Dan'l Boone, tenderfeet mostly find it a boon ter have a Dan'l
handy afore this air trail is left." He gravely acknowledged the
introduction to the others and looked at Patience again, and from her
back to the saddled horse tied to the rear of the wagon. "Feel like a
little ride, Miss Cooper" he asked. "Must be tirin' settin' up thar mile
arter mile listenin' to th' chatterin'."
She nodded, holding back her laughter, and Tom led up the horse.
"But, Miss Cooper!" expostulated the doctor. "What are we going to do
without you? We are desolate! Might I offer you a noble escort, six
trusty, knightly blades to flash in your defense?"
She smiled sweetly but shook her head. "When we reach the Indian country
I will be very glad to accept such an escort; but out here I would not
think of imposing on your generosity. This seems to be Mr. Boyd's
expedition; perhaps he may invite you."
Tom shook his head sadly. "Reckon I'll have all I kin do to look arter
Miss Cooper in case we meets airy Injuns, without botherin' with six
_flashes_. See you-all later, mebby."
They drew rein and waited for the crawling column to pass them, smiling
and nodding in reply to the cheerful salutations of the wagoners and
traders. Pedro, the slender Mexican, who took such a deep interest in
the doings of Tom Boyd, removed his wide hat and bowed, in true cavalier
fashion, showing his gleaming teeth in a pearly smile. The interest the
plainsman was showing in his pretty companion was an assurance that Tom
Boyd would need no further persuasion to enter the Mexican settlements.
Franklin, the leader of the third division, temporarily the second
section of Tom's column, allowed himself the luxury of a sullen smile.
He knew his part in the scheme of Pedro and Schoolcraft perfectly and
had no thought of deviating from it, but he could not help admiring the
upstanding plainsman, who was a man after his own heart. They were bound
together by a common interest, the safety of the caravan, and until they
were met by the escort of Mexican cavalry, somewhere near Rock Creek or
the Canadian River, Franklin gave little heed to personal grudges. All
he was supposed to do was to see that the plainsman did not leave the
caravan for good before the escort met it.
The two four-pounders trundled along their rumbling way, only one man to
each gun, the rest of their crews off with the advance guard. Tom
glanced at the all but deserted weapons and frowned. Franklin, noticing
it, frowned in reply. It was not because full cannon crews were needed
on this part of the trail, but because both men knew that it would be
the same all the way.
After the last wagon had passed, Tom and his companion rode forth and
turned when half a mile from the column, riding ahead on a course
parallel with it. The prairie was studded with the earlier flowers of
spring, in some places a rich carpet of delicate colors. Suddenly Tom
pointed to a gray object nearly covered with earth, dried grass of the
year before, and the fresh greenery of this season's slender blades
pushing up through it.
"Buffalo skull," he explained. "Let's look at it; it may tell us
something interesting."
They rode close to it and the plainsman nodded in quick understanding.
"That bull was killed by an Indian," he said. "Notice that it faces the
west? They place them that way to propitiate their gods. A skull hardly
lasts more than three years on the prairie, which means that this animal
was killed about that long ago. It is more than likely that he was an
old, renegade bull, wandering far from the herd to die alone. The
significant fact is, however, that not more than three years ago he
grazed here and was here killed by an Indian; coupled to that is another
significant fact, about one hundred thousand buffalo skins are taken to
the settlements every year. Remembering both those facts and adding
another, that it will be some days before we see even such a bull on the
very outskirts of the buffalo range, what does it mean? And here is a
fact I nearly overlooked; those hundred thousand skins taken each year
are from cow buffalo." He shook his head sadly. "The day of the buffalo,
countless as their numbers still are, is fast setting. Their range is
shrinking hour by hour, almost; and a comparatively few years more will
see them gone. Wait till you witness the brainless slaughter when the
herds are met with. Ah, well, we are a prodigal race, Miss Cooper,
spending our natural heritage with almost a drunken recklessness. If it
were drunken there might be found some excuse for us; but we are doing
it in our sober senses. Excuse me, when I get to thinking along those
lines I'm afraid I get a little fanatical. There's something more
interesting," he said, pointing to the north. "See it?"
After a moment's intense scrutiny she shook her head, and looked up at
him inquiringly.
"I forget that you haven't a plainsman's eyes," he laughed, "accustomed
to focussing for long distances. Why, over there, well beyond that
series of flat-topped prairie swells, is a red handkerchief waving
lazily in the air. It is fastened to a ramrod, and I'm willing to bet
that it belongs to Hank Marshall. He has been grumbling about a steady
diet of bacon. Now that we are getting into antelope country, his
disappearance from his trained mules is easily explained. I can promise
you and Uncle Joe antelope meat tonight. He never would have planted
that flag if he hadn't seen his victim; and while we are a long way off,
let's ride on so he won't be able to blame us if he fails to get his
shot."
Patience was laughing heartily, and hurriedly explained the cause of her
mirth.
"I saw him tie the bell to that old mule's neck. The sudden pride she
showed, the quick alertness of the other seven, and the satisfaction
shared equally by the mules and your partner was one of the most
ludicrous sights I've ever seen. When Uncle Joe, who was in his best
vein, explained the whole affair, I laughed until I cried. Is it true
that the seven worshipers won't leave her?"
Tom, laughing in sympathy with her mirth, nodded. "Picket her, with her
bell on, and we can let the others graze without hobbles or ropes. They
won't leave her. Don't ask me why, for if you do I can only answer by
saying that they have been trained that way; why it is possible for them
to be trained in such a way, and so easily, is beyond me. When we left
Independence Hank and I caught many a scornful glance directed at our
_atejo_, for I must confess that it was made up of eight scarecrows; but
handsome is as handsome does, and now our pack train troubles are
confined solely to packing and unpacking the animals. We don't even have
to remember what pack or _aparejo_ belongs to each mule; they know their
own unerringly, and will shower kicks on any careless or stupid
companion who blunders up to the wrong pack. Perhaps you've heard that
mules are stupid; that's something that you can discount heavily. They
are stupid only when it serves their purpose." He laughed again. "We
have one mule that takes a thrashing every morning, regular as a clock.
Hank calls him 'Dummy,' but I am not sure that he is well named. I can't
decide whether he is dumb or perverse. But the fact remains that he
never selects his own pack, and gets kicked along the line until he
reaches it by elimination. I shall enjoy studying him as we go along."
As they jogged on, a strip of timber running almost at right angles to
their course and thinning out to the north in about the same proportion
that it thickened to the south, came in sight and Tom knew it to be
Cottonwood Creek, and their last glimpse of the waters of the Neosho. He
well remembered the somewhat sharp bend formed by it on the farther
side, which was taken advantage of by some caravans and the corral
formation ignored. A line of closely spaced wagons across the neck of
the bend made corral enough.
"Well, we better get back to the caravan," he said. "While the creek is
all right there are many who are only waiting for a chance to cry that
the officers are remiss in their duties. I'll leave you with your uncle,
well guarded by six trusty knights, and go ahead with the advance
guard."
She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye and the repression of
her smile did not seriously affect the witchery of the dimples.
"I was a little afraid that I might become lonesome on this long
journey; but things have turned out splendidly. Don't you think Dr.
Whiting has a very distinguished air?"
"Very; it would distinguish him out of hundreds," replied Tom, scowling
at the timber fringe ahead. "He is quite impressive when he is silent.
It's a pity he doesn't realize it."
He turned in the saddle and looked behind. "What did I say? There comes
Hank, with an antelope slung before his saddle. I doubt if the doctor
would need the red handkerchief; antelope are notoriously affected by
anything curious."
She turned away and regarded the caravan studiously. "Isn't every man
expected to do his share in the general duties?" she asked.
"Yes; but most of them dodge obligations. When we left Council Grove
more than half of the members of the train were friendly to Woodson. By
the time we leave Cimarron his friends will be counted on the fingers of
your two hands. That is only what he expects, so it won't come as an
unpleasant surprise."
"What is the doctor's party supposed to do?"
"Two of them have been assigned to the rear guard; the other four, to
our right flank. They can be excused somewhat because of their
greenness. Besides, they only came along for the fun of it. In the
college of life they are only freshmen. Its seriousness hasn't sunk in
yet. The majority of the shirkers should know better, and have their
fortunes, meagre as they may be, at stake. Well, here we are. You don't
know how much I've enjoyed our ride. Uncle Joe," he said as Patience
settled into the wagon seat, "here she is, safe and sound. I'll drop
around with some antelope meat by the time you have your fire going."
"It's been ten years since I've broiled game over a fire," chuckled the
driver. "I'm anxious to get my hand in again. Thank you, Tom."
Tom fastened the horse to the rear of the wagon, waved to his friends,
and loped ahead toward the nearing creek.