A DAY OF TRIALS
“Come on, speed up, Phil, they can’t see from the store if anything goes
wrong now,” declared Ted, after a glance over his shoulder.
But the elder boy gave no heed to his brother’s request. Indeed, it had
been with many misgivings as to what the big, powerful black horses
might do that he had picked up the reins, for driving had not come
within the range of either of the boy’s experiences in Weston. The
horses, however, had been content to walk from the barn to the store and
even more willing after the wagon had been loaded, much to Phil’s
delight. Consequently he had been able to handle them without
difficulty.
For several minutes after his call for a faster gait, Ted kept silent,
then exclaimed:
“If you are afraid, let me drive. We won’t get home till dark if we
don’t move faster.”
“What if we don’t! It’s better to get home all right than to have the
blacks run away.”
“Run away! Fiddlesticks! Can’t horses trot without running away?” And
before Phil could protest, Ted clucked to the blacks.
Instantly they responded, breaking into a smart trot, causing the tools
and boxes to rattle and bounce, making a surprising racket.
Alarmed at the noise, the horses, in the evident endeavour to get away
from the strange sounds, went faster and faster, finally breaking into a
run.
His face very white, Phil braced his feet and pulled with all his might
on the reins. But the blacks kept on running.
So rough was the road that the boys bounced about on the seat as though
they were pebbles, several times almost falling off.
Two or three times, Ted opened his mouth to speak, only to bite his
tongue as the wagon gave a particularly vicious bounce, but at last he
yelled “Whoa!” and the horses stopped with a suddenness that flung both
boys to the ground.
Quickly they picked themselves up, Phil still holding the reins.
“I’ve a good mind to make you walk home,” he called. “_I_ knew what
would happen. You keep quiet while _I’m_ driving. When I want to trot I
will.” And when they both had regained the seat, he quietly started the
blacks again.
“There’s no need of getting stuffy about it,” chuckled his brother. “You
could have stopped them any time by saying ‘whoa.’ Just remember that—if
you are ever driving alone, which you won’t be, with my permission.
“Good thing the blacks are well trained or they would be running yet,
for all you would have—”
“Oh, keep quiet!” snapped Phil. And with another chuckle the younger boy
subsided.
For several miles they proceeded in silence.
“Wonder how much farther it is to the brook where we turn off,” Phil
said, at last,
“Can’t be more than a couple of miles. Why?”
“Because I think we’d better hurry, so we can make everything shipshape
before night.”
“Then let me drive; if the horses run away again we may pass the brook.”
And snatching the reins, Ted put the blacks into a smart trot.
In vain Phil protested, but his brother only bade him sit tight and not
bounce off the seat—a thing which they both found difficulty not to do,
for the road grew rougher every rod.
“T-there’s t-the br-rook,” stammered the elder boy, suddenly. “For
goodness’ sake, slow up. There isn’t any road at all through the woods.”
“Can’t be much rougher than this,” grinned his brother, but nevertheless
he drew in the blacks and, bracing himself, reined into the brush beside
the brook.
Not a whit did the horses relish forcing their way through the young
growth, and fortunate it was for the boys that they were well trained,
as Ted managed them more by speaking to them than by the reins.
With the wagon pitching and tossing, now one side up so high it was in
danger of tipping over, then the other, the horses plunged ahead until
they came to a heavy growth of trees so close together that even the
boys, inexperienced as they were, realized that the wagon could never
pass between them.
“We’re in a pretty fix, now,” exclaimed Phil, as the blacks stopped of
their own accord. “I suppose we shall have to cut down some of those
trees before we can go any farther. And from the looks of them, it will
be night before we do it. I think Andy should have stayed with us. He
must have known we couldn’t drive home.”
“And _I’m_ going to show him we can,” returned Ted, taking a fresh grip
on the reins and bracing his feet carefully.
“How?”
“Just sit tight and don’t ask questions.” And before Phil could say
another word, the boy started the horses, reining them sharply to one
side, straight for the brook.
“Hold on! Stop! Are you crazy?” demanded his brother, reaching for the
reins.
“_You_ keep quiet, now,” retorted Ted. “We rode down the brook, didn’t
we? Well, I happened to notice its bed was almost level, so—”
But the blacks put a stop to his words by halting at the edge of the
water, snorting and plunging.
“There! Those horses have sense enough to know they can’t drag this
wagon up the brook if you haven’t,” exclaimed Phil. “We’ll tie them, get
our axes, and cut out a road.”
“All right, go ahead, if you want to. Better take out some grub, though.
You couldn’t cut out a road in a week. _I’m_ going up to camp and _I’m_
going to drive up. Come on, you beauties! Steady, now! Giddap!” And he
slapped the blacks sharply with the reins.
For an instant the horses teetered; quivering, they leaped forward,
lifting the wagon from the ground.
“Steady! None of that!” soothed Ted. And as they stepped into the brook,
he went on: “That isn’t so bad, is it? Go on, now.”
Apparently finding that the water flowing against their legs was not an
unpleasant feeling, the blacks advanced cautiously, pausing every now
and then, only to resume their way as they heard Ted’s voice reassuring
them.
With reins tight, and looking steadily ahead to guard against holes, the
boy guided the horses through the brook until the heavily wooded land
had been passed, when he again reined them onto land. Twice more was it
necessary to take to the brook before they reached their shake-down,
which they finally did without mishap.
“Phew! I wouldn’t go through that again for a good deal,” exclaimed
Phil, as he sprang to the ground in front of the bough hut. “I’m as weak
as a rag.”
“It wasn’t much fun, I’ll admit,” answered Ted. “But, fortunately, we
won’t need to go out again until we have cut a road. We’ll unharness and
then get something to eat. I’m hungry as a bear.”
Slowly and awkwardly the young home-steaders went about the task of
unhitching the blacks, but at last they managed to pull off the heavy
harnesses, put on the halters, made them fast to some stout saplings and
fed them. But instead of tying the saddle ponies, they hobbled
them—discrimination which the blacks resented.
“Shall we unload first and then eat or eat and then unload?” asked Phil,
after they had hung the heavy harnesses in a tree beside the hut.
“Eat,” decided his brother, “though you can be taking out some of the
lighter things while I am frying the bacon and eggs, if you want to.”
“Which I don’t. I’ll boil the coffee.” And laughing over the stories the
loungers at the store had told them, the boys cooked their meal and ate
it ravenously.
Refreshed by the food, they made but short work of the unloading, and
when everything was safely stowed away, they started out to plan their
next day’s work, having agreed that first they should clear and plant
some land for their vegetable garden and then build their irrigation
system.
After examining several locations, they finally selected one on the east
side of the section, where the ground held sufficient natural moisture
to insure good crops.
On the spot, however, there was a fairly heavy growth of underbrush.
“Let’s get our axes and begin cutting today,” suggested the elder boy.
“We can’t afford to waste any time. By the looks of this brush, it will
take us two or three days to chop it out, at the least.”
“Wish we had a piece of iron rail, then we could hitch the blacks, one
at each end, and drag it, like Mr. Hopkins told us. That would save a
lot of work,” returned Ted.
“But we haven’t, so we must do it the best way we can. Come on, let’s
see how much we can clear before dark.”
Eager to begin work on the homestead which was to mean so much to them
and the little mother back in Weston, the boys set out for their axes.
But when they came in sight of their camp, they forgot about them.
“One of the blacks is gone!” cried Ted, stopping short and staring in
amazement at the sapling to which the horse had been tied.
“Bet he was the one you hitched,” exclaimed Phil.
“Bet he wasn’t. _I_ know how to tie a knot a horse can’t pull out.”
“So do I.”
While they were talking, the boys were running toward the remaining
black, and as they reached it, Ted glanced at the loop about the tree
and cried:
“I knew it was the one you tied! See that double knot here? That’s the
kind to hold. Come here and I’ll show you how to tie it!”
“Well, there’s no good in rubbing it in. He probably hasn’t gone very
far. Get some oats in a pan and we’ll go after him.”
Quickly Ted obeyed, and having found where the horse entered the woods,
they started in pursuit, expecting to come upon him browsing. When,
however, at the end of half an hour they had failed to catch even a
glimpse of the black, they halted.
“You don’t suppose he has gone back to Bradley, do you?” asked Ted.
“I should think he would have taken the way we came in, if he has.
Instead, he seems to have gone in the opposite direction.”
“Which makes me think we’d better begin breaking branches to mark our
own trail or we’ll never be able to find our own way back.”
“Oh, we can follow the hoof-prints, all right.”
“While we can see them, but it won’t be more than a couple of hours
before it is dark.”
The thought that they were in a fair way to be caught in the woods by
night seemed to come to both boys at once, and they glanced at one
another apprehensively.
Taking out his watch, Phil looked at it.
“It’s half-past four,” he said. “Suppose we hunt for another half-hour,
marking our trail, and then, if we don’t find him, go back?”
“Why not go back now, saddle the ponies, and start out again? We must
find the black. We haven’t enough money to buy another horse and,
besides, we can travel faster on the ponies.” As this seemed a good
suggestion, Phil readily agreed. Making all possible haste, the young
homesteaders retraced their steps much faster than they had taken them,
being careful to mark the trail by breaking branches and soon were
mounted and again on the search.
Returned to the spot whence they had gone back, they separated and rode
some hundred feet apart that they might search a broader area.
In silence, save for the creaking of their saddle leathers and the tramp
of their mounts, they proceeded until Phil suddenly called:
“I can see a house over here to the right.”
“Didn’t know we had any neighbours so near,” returned his brother as,
riding over, he gazed in the direction Phil pointed. “Queer Andy didn’t
tell us. Perhaps the black has gone there.”
Shaking out their ponies, the boys were soon at the door of a
weather-beaten log-cabin, and as they dismounted an old man came round
the corner, eying them suspiciously.
“Have you seen a black horse with a halter?” asked Phil, ignoring the
hostile looks that the man bestowed on them.
“No, I ain’t. I only got two horses and they’re brown, so you can’t work
that game on me. If you don’t want to get into trouble, you’d better be
going. You can’t—”
“We are in trouble enough without getting into any more. Come on Phil,”
interrupted Ted.
“That’s right, be off. You can’t play any horse-stealing tricks on me,”
snarled the old man.
“Horse-stealing?” repeated Phil, “why, we’ve _lost_ one of our new
horses that we bought in Bradley this morning. We are not trying to
steal any.”
Fortunately for the young homesteaders before they could get into
further argument with the old man, they were joined by a girl so
redolent with health and so pretty that the boys stared at her in
speechless amazement.
“What is it, Pap?” she asked, noting the scowl on her father’s face.
“These fellers _claims_ to be looking for a black horse they say—”
“Did he have a new halter?” quickly interrupted the girl, turning to
Phil.
“Yes. Have you seen him? Tell us where, please. We must get home before
dark.”
“I don’t know as it was _your_ horse. I saw Lem Petersen leading a big
black, with a brand-new halter, toward his place.”
“Thank you _ever_ so much.” And Phil whirled his pony.
Ted, however, was less affected by the blue eyes that gazed on them and
asked:
“In which direction does Petersen live?”
“Better not go to Lem’s unless you can prove it’s your horse,”
counselled the old man. “_He_ won’t stand any nonsense.”
“I guess we know the horse we bought,” exclaimed the elder boy,
impatiently. “Tell us, please, where this man lives.”
“About four mile over that way, southwest,” replied the man, pointing.
“But how do we get there? Where is the road, I mean?” inquired Phil.
“Why don’t you ride over with them, Pap? You know Lem. Mebbe you can
help get the horse back,” suggested the girl.
“Sure, I know _Lem_, but I don’t know these fellers and I don’t know
they bought or lost a horse. I—”
“Won’t you take our word for it?” demanded Phil.
“If Mr. Hopkins were here to back us up or even Andy Howe, I guess it
would make a difference, wouldn’t it?” asked Ted.
“You know Si?” inquired the old man, in less hostile tones.
“We do. These are his ponies. He loaned them to us until we get our
homestead cleared.”
“So you’re entrymen, eh? Anywhere near here?”
“E 1.”
“Well now, ain’t that funny? This is E 2. I ain’t heerd of any one
coming onto E 1.”
“That is not surprising in view of the fact that we got here only
yesterday,” returned Phil, adding a brief account of how they happened
to have lost the black.
“Come on, Pap, we’ll _both_ go,” announced the girl, as the boy
finished, and, running to the barn, she quickly returned, mounted on a
big roan and leading another.