I travelled along the trail all that afternoon and evening, until, just
as twilight was darkening into night, I came in sight of some
camp-fires. On seeing them, I paused to consider what was best to be
done.
To halt at the camp--if, as I supposed, it was a party of emigrants--
might lead to my being taken, in case of being pursued from the fort,
for my dress, the U.S. brand on the horse, and the military saddle, all
proved them the property of "Uncle Sam."
This determined me to avoid showing myself--until I should have put a
greater distance between myself and the fort.
I dismounted on the spot where I had halted, tethered my horse, and
tried to take some rest. I soon found that I could not sleep: hunger
would not admit of it.
Within sight of me were the camp-fires, surrounded by people, who would
probably have relieved my wants; and yet I feared to go near them.
Conscience, or common sense, told me, that emigrants in a wilderness
might not look very favourably upon one, employed to protect them,
deserting from his duty, and taking property along with him--of which
every citizen of the United States believes himself to be the owner of a
share. They might not actually repel me. In all probability they would
give me something to eat; but they might also give information
concerning me--should I be pursued--that would enable my pursuers to
make a prisoner of me.
Before daybreak I awoke, having enjoyed a brief slumber; and, silently
mounting my horse, I rode beyond the emigrants' camp--deviating widely
from the trail to get around them.
I soon recovered the track; and pursued it as fast as my steed was
willing to carry me. When, looking out for a place where water could be
obtained--with the intention of stopping awhile and killing some bird or
animal for food--I came in sight of another party of emigrants, who were
just taking their departure from the spot where they had encamped for
the night.
I had put one train of these travellers between me and the fort; and now
fancied myself tolerably safe from pursuit. Riding boldly up to the
waggons, I told the first man I encountered, and in very plain terms
that I must have something to eat.
"Now, I like that way of talking," said he. "Had you asked for
something in the humble manner many would have done, perhaps you would
not have got it. People don't like to carry victuals five hundred
miles, to give away for nothing; but when you say you _must_ have
something to eat, then, of course, I can do nothing but give it to you.
Sally!" he continued, calling out to a young woman who stood by one of
the waggons, "get this stranger something to eat."
Looking around me, I saw a number of people--men, women, and children of
every age. There appeared to be three families forming the "caravan" no
doubt emigrating together, for the purpose of mutual protection and
assistance. There were five or six young men--who appeared to be the
sons of the elder ones--and a like number of young women, who were
evidently the daughters of three others of middle age, while a large
flock of miscellaneous children, a small flock of sheep, a smaller
number of cattle, several horses, and half-a-dozen half-famished dogs
completed the live-stock of the train.
"I guess you're a deserter?" said the man, to whom I had first addressed
myself, after he had finished his survey of myself and horse.
"No," I answered. "I'm on my route to Fort Wool. I have lost my way,
and gone without eating for two days."
"Now, I like that way of talking," responded the emigrant, who appeared
to be the head man of the party. "When a man tells me a story, I like
it to be a good one, and well told--whether I believe it, or not."
"What reason have you to disbelieve me?" I asked, pretending to be
offended at having my word doubted.
"Because I think, from your looks, that you are not a damned fool,"
answered the man, "and no other but a fool would think of staying in a
military fort, in this part of the world, any longer than he had a
chance to get away from it."
I immediately formed the opinion, that the person speaking to me was the
most sensible man I had ever met--myself not excepted: for it was not
necessary for him to have seen Lenore, to know that I had done well in
deserting.
After my hunger had been appeased, I moved on with the emigrant train,
which I found to consist of three Missouri farmers and their families,
on their way to the "Land of Promise." The man with whom I had
conversed, was named Johnson, or "old Johnson," as some of his juniors
called him. He was a sharp, brisk sort of an old fellow; and I could
perceive, at a glance there was no chance of his being humbugged by any
made-up story. I, therefore, changed my tactics; and frankly
acknowledged myself to be a deserter from the United States' troops,
occupying the last fort he had passed. It was scarce necessary to add,
that my destination was California. I finished by proposing: that he
would have my services in whatever capacity he might require them, in
consideration of furnishing me with food upon the journey.
"Now, I like that way of talking," said old Johnson, when I had
concluded, "we just chance to need your help, and that of your horse,
too; and we'll try to do the best we can for you. You must expect to
see some hard times, before we get through--plenty of work and no great
feeding--but do your share of the work, and you shall fare like the rest
of us."
I could ask nothing fairer than this; and the next day, found me dressed
in a suit of "linsey wolsey," working my passage to California, by
taking my share with the others, in clearing the track of obstructions,
driving the cattle, and such other duties as fall to the lot of the
overland emigrant.
The journey proved long, fatiguing, and irksome--much more so than I had
expected; and many times a day did I swear, that, if I ever worked a
passage to California again, it should be by water. I was impatient to
get on; and chafed at the slow pace at which we crawled forward. Horses
and cattle would stray, or make a stampede; and then much time would be
lost in recovering them.
Sometimes we would reach a stream, where a bridge had to be built or
repaired; and two or three days would be spent at the work. The draught
horses and oxen would die, or, becoming unable to proceed farther, would
have to be left behind. The strength of our teams was being constantly
weakened--until they were unable to draw the heavily loaded waggons; and
it became necessary to abandon a portion of their contents--which were
thrown away upon the prairies. The first articles thus abandoned, were
carpets and other useless things, not required on the journey, but which
to please the women, or at their instigation, had been put into the
waggons at starting, and dragged for six or seven hundred miles!
The dogs, that, at the commencement of the journey, had for each mile of
the road, travelled about three times that distance, having worn the
skin from the soles of their feet, now crawled along after the waggons
without taking one unnecessary step. They seemed at length to have
reached the comprehension: that the journey was to be a protracted one;
and that while undertaking it, the idle amusement of chasing birds was
not true canine wisdom.
I shall not startle my leaders with a recital of any remarkable
adventures we had with the hostile Indians: for the simple reason that
we had none. They gave us much trouble for all that: since our fear of
encountering them, kept us constantly on the alert--one of our party,
and some times more, standing sentry over the camp throughout the whole
of every night.
If my readers reason aright, they will give me credit for not drawing on
my imagination for any part of this narrative. They may easily perceive
that, by thus eschewing the subject of an encounter with Indians, I lose
an excellent opportunity for embellishing my true tale with an
introduction of fiction.
As we approached the termination of our journey, the teams became
weaker--until it took all of them united in one yoke to draw a single
waggon, containing only the youngest of the children, and a few pounds
of necessary provisions!
The old ladies, along with their daughters, performed the last hundred
miles of the journey on foot; and when we at length reached the first
settlement--on the other side of the mountains--a band of more wretched
looking individuals could scarce have been seen elsewhere. My own
appearance was no exception to that of my companions. My hat was a
dirty rag wrapped around my head like a turbann while my boots were
nothing more than pieces of buffalo hide, tied around my feet with
strings. For all this, I was as well dressed as any of the party.
My agreement with old Johnson was now fulfilled; and I was at liberty to
leave him. I was anxious to be off to the diggings, where his eldest
son, James, a young man about twenty years old, proposed accompanying
me. Old Johnson declined going to the diggings himself--his object in
coming to California being to "locate" a farm, while the country was
still "young."
He furnished us with money to buy clothing and tools, as well as to keep
us in food for awhile--until we should get fairly under weigh in the
profession we were about to adopt.
I promised to repay my share of this money to his son--as soon as I
should earn its equivalent out of the auriferous earth of California.
"Now, I like that way of talking," said old Johnson, "for I'm a poor
man; and as I have just come here to make a fortune, I can't afford to
lose a cent."
I parted with Mr Johnson and his party of emigrants with some regret,
for they all had been more kind to me than I had any reason to expect.
I have never found the people of this world quite so bad as they are
often represented; and it is my opinion, that any man who endeavours to
deserve true friendship, will always succeed in obtaining it.
I have never met a man whose habit was to rail against mankind in
general, and his own acquaintances in particular, whose friendship was
worth cultivation. Such a man has either proved unworthy of friendship,
and has never obtained it; or he has obtained, and therefore possesses
that, for which he is ungrateful.
Volume One, Chapter XIX.