TWO BOYS AND A MULE
"The Mississippi at last, Mark!"
[Illustration: "THE MISSISSIPPI AT LAST!" UTTERED BOB.]
It was Bob who uttered the cry, late one afternoon, some time after the
events recorded in the last chapter. He was standing in the front of
the scow, shading his eyes with his hand.
"It's a pretty big stream of water," answered Mark, gazing forward
curiously. He drew a long breath. "Bob, about one-third of our journey
to California is finished!"
"Right you are, Mark. But I'm afraid we have the toughest part of the
trip still before us."
"Do you regret starting?"
"Not in the least, and you couldn't hire me to turn back," was the
quick response.
"Are you going to stop at Cairo?"
"Don't you think we had better cross the river instead?"
"No, for we can't sail the scow against such a strong current. We had
better stick to our original intention and sell the craft, and then
take a steamboat from Cairo to some place up the Missouri."
During the past few days the boys had learned that Independence,
Missouri, located not many miles from Kansas City, was one of the
places at which thousands of emigrants for the West were gathering,
with their wagons and their horses and cattle. It was still early in
the year and the pioneers were waiting for the grass to grow, so that
they might have fodder for their animals during the long and tedious
journey overland.
"They say it will take at least three months to get across the Rocky
Mountains and into California," said Mark.
"Yes, and it may take longer--so I heard one man say," returned Bob.
"He said nobody would dare to try getting over the mountains after the
snow began to fall. If we can't get over by the first of November,
we'll have to stay on this side until next spring."
"We'll have to get a regular outfit,--or else join some company going
over."
"I'd rather have my own outfit."
"Oh, so would I."
That night they landed near Cairo--which was only a small place in
those days. They offered the scow to a number of boatmen and finally
disposed of the craft in a most unusual manner.
"See heah," said a man from Alabama, who sat on a mule, chewing a quid
of tobacco. "If you're out fer a trade--I'm with yer. I allowed I was
gwine to Californy on th' back o' this mule. But I've changed my mind
an' I'm gwine home. If ye want to swap the scow fer the mule speak up;
an' if ye don't, hold yer peace. Washington Gossnacker has spoken."
"Let's take him up," whispered Mark. "The mule may come in handy."
"What will you give to boot?" asked Bob, cautiously.
"Th' harness an' the saddle an' not a cent's wuth moah, sonny. Is it a
go?"
"Yes," answered Bob.
"Co-rect, neighbor--the mule is yours. Don't never git behind him,
onless ye want to go to heav'n by th' direct route," added the man from
Alabama.
"Which means that he can kick," said Mark, in dismay.
"Wall, I reckon he wouldn't be a mule ef he couldn't do thet same,"
responded Washington Gossnacker.
The transfer was made on the spot, and while the man from Alabama took
possession of the scow, Bob swung himself up on the mule's back. As
quick as a flash the animal swerved around, began to kick, and then
set off at a break-neck speed up the street.
"Whoa!" yelled Bob, holding tight to the reins. "Whoa, you skyrocket;
whoa, I say!"
"Look out that he don't throw you!" screamed Mark, and he started after
his chum, and several in the crowd followed. Up the street went the
mule, with Bob clinging desperately to the saddle. Then the boy gave
the reins a strong pull and spoke gently to the animal, and soon the
mule came to a stop.
"Better get down," suggested Mark, as he came up.
"No, sir, I'm going to show Mr. Mule that I am his new master,"
returned Bob, and he made the mule run once more, stopping and starting
him half a dozen times. At last the mule was worn out and under perfect
control, and then Bob patted him gently and gave him something to eat.
"Do you think it was a bad trade?" asked Mark. He could not help
grinning, now the danger was past.
"No, I don't--for the old scow was beginning to leak!" answered Bob,
and then both boys laughed outright.
"Now we've got a mule, what we shall need next is a wagon," went on
Mark, a moment later. "Then some provisions, and ho! for the wild West
and gold!"
Finding a suitable hotel, they remained there over night and had the
mule cared for. Mark named the animal Darling, and Darling he remained
for the rest of the wonderful trip. Taken all in all he was not a bad
mule, although inclined at times to be tricky.
By consulting the hotel clerk they learned that they could obtain
passage on a steamboat bound up the Missouri River, and also
transportation for the mule, and left Cairo that noon, on the _Pride of
the River_, a steamboat that had seen better days.
"What a crowd of passengers!" remarked Bob. "Wonder if they are all
bound for the gold fields?"
"Likely not," replied Mark. "Some are settlers and planters, and others
are just plain business men."
"And some are gamblers," added the sailor boy. And he was right, for
gambling flourished vigorously in those days on all the boats of the
Mississippi and the Missouri. The game went on day and night, and many
a fortune was lost. The great majority of the gamblers were tricksters,
and sometimes, when one was caught at his tricks, he was shot or run
off the boat.
"What a life to lead!" said Bob. "I can tell you, no gambling for me!"
"Nor for me," answered Mark. "The fellow who gambles deserves to lose;
and I guess he generally does, too, unless he's a sharp."
With it all, the boys found the journey up the Mississippi and up the
Missouri very interesting. They sat near the bow of the boat,--out
of the way of the thick black smoke from the stack--and watched the
scenery along the shores. In those days the settlements were nearly all
small, and much of the great forests which have since been cut down was
standing.
A stop of half an hour was made at St. Louis and the boys had a glimpse
of that old French town.
"Some day I fancy this will be a big city," observed Mark.
"Oh, the whole West and Middle West will fill up some day," said
Bob. "Uncle Sam's children must go somewhere, and the population is
increasing wonderfully."
As soon as the _Pride of the River_ turned into the Missouri they
observed the change in the water. Where it had been fairly clear before
it was now dark and muddy.
"The mud comes from the banks," said Mark. "They tell me they are
washing away continually, so that a fellow may have a big farm on
the riverside one day and have about nothing the next!"
The boys had decided to leave the steamboat at a small place known
as Brosberry's Landing--somebody having told them that it was a
great starting place for gold seekers, being but a few miles from
Independence. As soon as the boat tied up they went ashore, Bob leading
the mule and Mark carrying his valise and his chum's bundle. A dozen
men, of various ages, went with them.
"Here's a new lot of gold hunters!" came the cry, from the dock.
"Two boys an' a mule!" sang out a man who had spotted our young
friends. "Goin' to Californy?"
"You bet!" responded Bob, using a common expression of those days.
"Hands up on me!" answered the man, with a grin. "Hope ye win out!"
The boys soon discovered that Brosberry's Landing consisted of nothing
more than a general store, two gambling halls, and a motley collection
of shanties and tents, the latter used by men bound for the West.
"I must say, I don't like it much here," was Mark's comment, after a
walk around. "Let us move towards Independence. Old man Spat said he
was going over."
"Then let us follow Spat."
They had struck up an acquaintance with Ira Spat on the steamboat. He
was from Maine, tall, thin, and leathery, having spent much of his time
as a lumberman on the Penobscot. He was rough but good-hearted, and the
boys liked him.
"This air spot don't suit me wuth shucks," said Ira Spat. "I'm a-goin'
to find somethin' better," and he started for Independence on foot,
with a stick and a big carpetbag over his shoulder. The boys followed,
taking turns at riding Darling, who seemed to enjoy being on _terra
firma_ once more.
It was not long before they came upon a flat stretch of prairie land,
with an occasional patch of timber and a small stream. Here and there
folks were camping out, and as they advanced the encampments became
thicker, until the scene was a decidedly animated one.
"There must be thousands of folks here!" exclaimed Mark. "And all bound
for California, too! Bob, we shan't lack for company!"
Some of the gold hunters had little or nothing, while others had nearly
the whole of their household goods. Wagons and carts were numerous and
so were horses, mules, and cows. Many of the emigrants--for they were
nothing else--had their families with them, resolute-looking wives and
children of all sizes and dispositions. One man had three old-maid
daughters with him, while in another gathering there was a baby but
four months old.
"That youngster is going to hunt gold early," said Bob, after meeting
the woman with the baby. The infant was the talk of the camp, and every
woman there wanted to hold it and pet it.
After a long look around, Mark and Bob decided to pitch their camp near
a brook and a short distance away from the others in that vicinity. At
the general store they had purchased a small but good tent and this
they erected, and then cut a ditch around it, that the rain might run
off.
"Now we can stay here until we are ready to begin the long trip
overland," said Bob; and so it was settled.