KANSAS CITY IN EARLY DAYS.
The reason that Glen Eddy disappeared after running that engine so
splendidly, and bringing the night express safely to its destination,
was that he was diffident and nervous. Now that the strain was relaxed
and he had time to think of the terrible risks run by that train while
under his inexperienced guidance, he was seized with a sudden fright.
Queerly enough, he felt almost guilty, as though he had done something
wrong, or to be ashamed of. Suppose somebody should try to thank him.
Suppose the crowd, now surging about the door of the baggage-car, should
turn their attention to him, and come to gaze at him as a part of the
show that had attracted them. What should he do in either case? It would
be unbearable. He must make good his escape before either of these
things happened.
The wounded men were being carefully lifted from one side of the
baggage-car. Everybody's attention was for the moment directed to that
spot. So Glen slipped down from the locomotive cab on the opposite side,
and ran back to the sleeper in which were his belongings. The car was
deserted and empty. Its passengers, and everybody connected with it, had
either gone up town or joined the curious throng about the baggage-car.
Thus nobody saw the boy, as, securing his valise and rifle, he slipped
from the rear end of the car and walked rapidly away. He plunged into
one of the tunnel-like streets running back from the railroad, not
knowing, nor caring, where it would lead him. His only idea was to
escape, he did not even know from what. It had so taken possession of
him, that he almost felt as though he were being pursued, with the
danger, at any moment, of being overtaken, and dragged ignominiously
back to be--thanked and made a hero of.
Kansas City, which has since enjoyed such an astonishing growth and
prosperity, was at that time very young. It was still burrowing through
the high and steep bank of stiff red clay that separated its river front
from the main street of the newer portion perched on the bluff. Several
cross streets, connecting these two parts of the city, had been dug out
with infinite labor, to a great depth through the red clay, and it was
up one of these that Glen now walked.
He was so far below the level of the airy building-lots on either side
that he could not see whether they were occupied or not. Only an
occasional long flight of wooden steps, leading up from the street, led
him to suppose they might be. He was beginning to wonder where the city
was, or if there were any more of it beyond the straggling business
street that bordered the railroad, when he came to the main thoroughfare
of the new town, and gazed about him with amazement. Although it was yet
so early that the sun had only just risen, the broad avenue presented a
scene of the most lively activity.
In Brimfield the erection of a new house, or building of any kind, was a
matter of general interest that afforded a topic of conversation for
weeks. Here were dozens, yes, scores of them, springing up in every
direction. A few were of brick; but most of those intended for business
purposes were long and low, though furnished with pretentious false
fronts that towered as high again as the roof itself. Everywhere was
heard the din of hammer and saw, or the ring of the mason's trowel, and
in every direction Glen could see the city growing, spreading, and
assuming new aspects as he gazed.
At length a pang of hunger recalled him to his present situation, and he
inquired of a man, who was hurrying past, the way to the Kaw House.
"Up there a piece," answered the man almost without pausing, and
pointing vaguely up the street. "There comes the surveyor's wagon from
there now," he added, nodding his head towards one, drawn by two mules,
that was dashing in their direction at that moment.
The surveyor's wagon. Then, perhaps, Mr. Brackett was in it, thought
Glen. Acting on the impulse of the moment, he sprang into the middle of
the street, and waved his rifle in the faces of the advancing mules. The
driver reined them in sharply, and the team came to a standstill.
"Hello, young fellow, what do you want now?" he shouted.
"I want to know if Mr. Brackett is in this wagon," answered Glen.
"Yes, he is, and that's my name," said a pleasant-faced young man,
dressed in a red-flannel shirt, a pair of army trousers tucked into his
boot-legs, and what had once been a stylish cutaway coat, who sat beside
the driver. "What can I do for you?"
For answer Glen handed him Mr. Hobart's note, which the young man
glanced quickly through.
"I see by this that you are to be a member of our party," he said, as he
finished reading it, "and that the chief will not be here for a day or
two yet. I am very glad to make your acquaintance, Mr. Matherson. Boys,
this is Mr. Glen Matherson, our new--Well, we will see what position he
will occupy later. Now, Matherson, we are off for our day's work. Would
you rather accompany us into the thick of the fray, or will you wend
your weary way to the hotel, and while away the hours until our return,
surrounded by its gloomy grandeur?"
"I think I would rather go with you, sir," replied Glen, who did not
know whether to laugh or not at Mr. Brackett's words and tone.
"'Tis well, and go with us you shall. So tumble into the chariot, and
stow yourself away wherever you can find room. Then let us on with
speed."
"But I left Mr. Hobart's things and some of my own on board the train,"
said Glen, hesitatingly, "and here are the checks for them."
This difficulty was settled by the hailing of a dray, and instructing
its driver to get the articles called for by the checks, and carry them,
together with Glen's valise, to the hotel. The boy could not bear to
trust his precious rifle out of his sight, and so carried it with him.
They had hardly started, when Mr. Brackett turned to Glen and asked him
if he had been to breakfast.
This was a question in which the boy was greatly interested just at that
moment, and he answered very promptly that he had not.
"Well, here's a go!" exclaimed the other. "A rule of this party is,
Matherson, and I hope I shall never be obliged to repeat it to you, that
if a man hath not eaten, neither shall he work. It is now too late to
return to Delmonico's, so we must intrust you to the tender mercies of
the Princess, and may she have mercy upon your appetite. Joe, drive to
the palace."
The "palace" proved to be a patchwork shanty of the most unique and
surprising description. It was constructed of bits of board, pieces of
boxes and barrels, stray shingles and clapboards, roofing-paper, and a
variety of other odds and ends. Its doors and windows had evidently been
taken from some wrecked steamboat. It was overrun with roses and
honeysuckles; while within and without it was scrupulously neat and
clean.
As the surveyor's wagon with its noisy load drew up before this queer
establishment, its mistress appeared at the door. She was a fat,
jolly-looking negress, wearing a gay calico dress, and a still more
brilliant turban, and she was immediately greeted with shouts of "How
are you, Princess?" "Good-morning, Princess!" "How's her royal nibs
to-day?" etc., to all of which she smiled and bowed, and courtesied with
the utmost good-nature.
The moment he could make himself heard, Mr. Brackett said, "Princess, we
have here a fainting wayfarer. Can you provide him with a cup of
nectar?"
"Yes, sah."
"A dish of peacock's tongues?"
"Sartin, sah."
"And a brace of nightingale's eggs on toast?"
"In about free minutes, sah."
"Very well, hasten the feast and speed our departure; for we must hence,
ere many nimble hours be flown."
While waiting for his breakfast to be prepared, Glen had a chance to
examine his new companions somewhat more closely than he had yet done.
There were eight of them, besides the driver of the wagon, mostly young
men, some of them hardly more than boys; but all strong, healthy
looking, and brown from long exposure to sun and wind. Their dress was a
medley of flannel, buckskin, and relics of high civilization. They were
as merry, careless, and good-natured a set of young fellows as could
well be found, always ready for hard work in its time, and equally so
for a frolic when the chance offered. They all seemed to be on a perfect
equality, called each other by their given names, and played practical
jokes upon one another with impunity. As their wagon clattered out of
town in the morning, or dashed in again at dusk, its occupants generally
sang the most rollicking of college or camp songs, at the top of their
voices, and everybody had a kindly word or an indulgent smile for the
young surveyors.
Foremost in all their fun was their temporary chief, whom Glen only knew
as Mr. Brackett, but who was called "Billy" by all the others. He was
about twenty-five years old, and his position was that of transit-man;
though, until Mr. Hobart should join the party, he was in charge of it.
To Glen, who had thus far only seen him off duty, it was
incomprehensible that so frivolous a young man as "Billy" Brackett
appeared should hold so responsible a position.
The party had recently returned from the front, where they had been
locating a line of new road since earliest spring. Now, while waiting to
be sent out again, they were engaged in running in the side tracks, Y's,
and switches of what has since become one of the greatest railroad yards
in the world. It was on the state line, between Kansas and Missouri,
about an hour's drive from the Kaw House, where the surveyors made their
headquarters.
In less than five minutes Glen found himself drinking the most delicious
cup of coffee he had ever tasted; while into his hands were thrust a
couple of sandwiches of hot corn-pones and crisp bacon. These, with two
hard-boiled eggs, furnished a most acceptable meal to the hungry-boy.
Mr. Brackett tossed a quarter to the "Princess," and the wagon rolled
merrily away with Glen eating his breakfast, as best he could, _en
route_.