A STORM AND A WASHOUT
A week passed and the young gold hunters found themselves well on the
trail to Fort Laramie, which was to be their next regular stopping
place. The route was along the northern bank of the Platte River, which
they had crossed at a spot where the stream was broad but shallow. The
wagon had been taken over on a flatboat, at a cost of two dollars.
Darling had been made to swim over to the other side, much against his
wishes. In going down into the river the mule had done a tremendous lot
of splashing, wetting Bob, who was riding him, from head to foot.
"That mule is a cantankerous critter," observed Maybe Dixon, who
chanced to be near at the time. "One thing is certain, he ain't no
Baptist!"
"I guess he'd rather take a roll than take a bath," said Mark, and he
was right; as soon as Darling came out of the river, he shook himself
and then started to roll. It was a good quarter of an hour before Bob,
aided by Si, could hook him up once more.
The weather had been fair during the week and the boys had managed to
get a little rough washing done on the way. But on Sunday night it
commenced to rain and blow, until all were glad enough to seek the
shelter which the tent and the wagon afforded.
"If ye want my advice, take down the tent an' put it over yer wagon,"
said Maybe Dixon. "Maybe it won't blow an' maybe it will. But it's
allers wise to be on the safe side."
"Do you think the wind will get worse?" questioned Mark.
"It has a habit o' doing sech things out here."
The wind was already rising, and not wishing to have the canvas torn
to shreds, the boys decided to follow Dixon's advice. It was no easy
matter to take the tent down, and one wet end slashed around poor Si,
hurling him to the ground and turning him over and over.
"Hi! let me out o' this!" gasped the country youth. "I don't want to be
bagged up just yet." And as Mark unwound the canvas he staggered to his
feet. "Gosh all hemlock! But it's blowing, ain't it!"
To get the canvas over the wagon was a second difficulty, but at
last it was accomplished. Then they stretched several ropes over the
wagon wheels and pinned them down, that the vehicle might be kept from
blowing over. The rain was now coming down in sheets and they were glad
enough to get out of it again, although, as Si remarked, "They couldn't
get any wetter if they tried."
"One thing is certain, when it rains here it rains," said Bob. "It
don't fool about it."
"Bob, this would be a hard one on the ocean," came from Mark.
"Right you are, my hearty," answered the former sailor boy. "I've been
in 'em--more than once--an' I know. I was in such a blow once when we
were out after an old cow whale, and the small boat didn't get back to
the vessel until noon of the next day. All of us thought we were surely
bound for Davy Jones's locker."
It rained and blew so hard the entire night that sleep was out of the
question. Mark tried it shortly after midnight and soon roused up with
a start.
"The waterfall! Look out for the waterfall!" he cried, and then gazed
around stupidly. "Gracious! I got to dreaming and dreamt I was under a
waterfall!" he gasped.
"And you were," answered Bob, roaring with laughter. "The rain came
through that hole and poured right down on your nose."
Maybe Dixon was under the wagon, resting on a small platform of logs.
In the middle of the night they heard him splashing around.
"What's the trouble down there?" called out Si.
"Trouble is, I don't care to drown," declared Dixon. "The water is
'bout up to the hubs already, an' maybe it will soon be higher than
thet."
"Then we must be in a hollow," cried Mark. "If so, we'll have to get
out, or all of our stores may get wet."
There was no help for it, and tired, wet, and disgusted, all crawled
forth into the darkness of the night. They did not bother to hitch up
the mule, but with two in front and two behind, pushed and hauled the
wagon to a higher spot. Here were a few sturdy young trees which had
not been affected by the wind, and they tied fast to these.
"If going to California was all like this, I'd be for turning back
right now," declared Mark, as he wiped the water from his face.
"Ditto here," came from Bob, who was wringing out his jacket. "But
don't worry, the sun will shine again."
"An' be good an' hot too, don't forget that," put in Si.
About four o'clock in the morning the wind gradually died down and
the rain slackened up. Then one after another did what he could to
make himself comfortable and get a few winks of sleep. But it was a
sorry-looking crowd that gathered outside three hours later.
"I'd like to have some of that hot sunshine right now," said Mark to
Si. The sky was still heavy and threatening.
It was difficult to obtain firewood dry enough to burn, and they wasted
several precious matches in starting a blaze. But once the fire was
going they heaped on the wood and then dried themselves as best they
could. They also made a generous pot of coffee, which they emptied
while it was steaming.
"Coffee is the thing to warm a feller up," said Si. "Beats liquor all
holler." And Mark and Bob nodded in affirmation.
They did not move on until after dinner. By that time the sky had
cleared and the sun was peeping from behind what was left of the
clouds. But the trail was wet and heavy and they had to make many a
detour, to avoid mud-holes and dangerous washouts.
"Hullo, look at this!" cried Mark, when they were looking for a
camping spot for the night. "Socket's in trouble, sure!"
He was right, Josiah Socket was indeed in trouble. His wagon had gone
deep down into a mud-hole, with Mrs. Socket and the girls on board. On
the outer edge of the hole stood Josiah and his three boys, gazing at
the disaster in dismay and wondering how the females and the outfit
were to be rescued.
"Jest like you, Josiah Socket!" Mrs. Socket was saying, as she stood up
on the front step and waved her arms in the air. "It's a wonder me an'
the gals didn't all tumble in the mud or git our necks broke! Sech a
careless man I never did see in all my born days! Now what are we going
to do, answer me that?"
"I don't know, Ann," answered the husband, meekly.
"We can't sit here all day, nor stand nuther!"
"You can jump out if you want to."
"Land sakes alive! Jump out in all that mud! Ain't you ashamed to
suggest sech a thing? If you was a man that was a-looking out for your
own, you'd--you'd----"
"What would I do, Ann?"
"You'd do something, that's what you'd do. I shan't stay here, that is
all there is to it!"
"Maybe I kin git a board an' help you out that way," said Josiah
Socket, and gazed around helplessly; for nothing like a board was
anywhere in sight.
"Carry 'em over," suggested Maybe Dixon. "I'll take one o' the gals, if
she'll let me." And he waded into the mud.
Josiah Socket was willing enough to follow the advice given, and he
plunged into the mud. His wife was doubtful about trusting herself on
his shoulder, but at last took the seat with many cautions.
"If ye slip down, Josiah Socket, I'll never forgive ye," she declared.
"Never, in all this wide world!"
"I ain't a-goin' to slip down," he muttered, stubbornly, and he did
not. Soon the lady was safe by the side of the trail and so were the
two girls, Maybe Dixon bringing over one and Bob the younger miss.
"I feel like leaving the blamed outfit where it is," grumbled Josiah
Socket, in deep disgust. "I'm sick o' emigratin' to Californy."
"Don't leave it where it is," said Maybe Dixon. "If so, maybe 'twill
sink through to Chiny."
"I think we can help haul you out," said Bob. "Come, Mark, help splice
a rope on here, and we'll tow his bark out of that hole in jig time."
The rope was produced and made fast to the back of the boys' wagon,
and horses and mule were started up. The boys hauled and so did the
men, and at last, with a deep sound of suction, the Socket outfit came
up out of the mud-hole and was dragged to a spot that was high and dry.
"Good fer you!" cried Josiah Socket, his face brightening wonderfully,
now that the difficulty was over. "Tell ye wot, many hands make short
work, don't they?"
"I'll reward you boys," said Mrs. Socket. "I'm going to bake
to-morrow--pervidin' it don't rain,--and I'll give you some fresh
loaves of bread."
"Good enough!" cried Mark. "I've been longing for fresh bread--the real
kind, I mean, since we left Si's home."
"Ditto here," put in Bob. "The kind we've been turning out ain't any
better than hardtack, if as good."
"Mother certainly knows how to bake bread," put in Si, softly, and
then a far-away look came into his eyes as he thought of the home so
many miles eastward. He could picture the others gathered around the
family board, eating supper--and perhaps talking about him. He had a
little streak of homesickness go over him, and to work it off set about
pitching camp for the night and building a fire for the evening meal.
Many things were still wet and the boys were glad to find that plenty
of firewood was handy, so that a generous blaze was started, and kept
up a good part of the night, drying things out thoroughly. The Sockets
camped close at hand, and in the morning the promised bread was baked
and delivered. It was certainly good and the boys did not hesitate to
say so. This pleased Mrs. Socket and she said she would bake them bread
another time, providing they would furnish the flour.