Kitabı oku: «Martha of California: A Story of the California Trail», sayfa 5

INDIANS AND MOSQUITOES

Now you must bear in mind, although I may not speak of them again, that we were constantly meeting with Indians. Hardly a day passed that we did not come upon a village, meet a party of hunters, or receive visits from groups of two, three, or four who came to beg.

Strange though it may seem, we became accustomed to the savages as one does to seeing a dog or a cat around the house, and gave little or no attention to them save when they made themselves disagreeable.

One other thing I will speak about now. Mosquitoes and tiny flies, which seemed as fierce as tigers, were with us all the time by day as well as by night.

When we first left Independence, it was difficult for me to sleep at night because of these insects, and during the day I spent the greater portion of my time striving to keep them off my hands or face. As the journey progressed it seemed as if they became less poisonous; but I suppose my body had become accustomed to the wounds, and I gave little heed to them except when the weather was exceedingly warm.

Until we came among the foothills, which is to say, after we left Fort Bridger, we found game in abundance. What had been sport to Eben became now a real labor, and he sought for fresh meat only when urged to do so by his father or some of us girls.

There were days when our men brought in no game because they were unable to come across any; but we were in a country abounding with deer, elks, buffaloes, and even bears, and so did not suffer for food.

PRAIRIE DOGS

Even though I say nothing more regarding the remainder of our journey over the Oregon trail, I must speak of the little prairie dogs which we came upon from time to time.

They live in villages, sometimes, as father has said, several acres in extent, and their houses are holes in the ground, with a top or extension, made of earth which they have pushed up from beneath.

Eben Jordan declares, and several men in the company who have talked with the trappers or hunters say, that in every prairie dog's house may be found a little gray owl, who has lodgings there, and oftentimes with this owl is a rattlesnake. Now just fancy the prairie dog, the owl, and the rattlesnake living together! All I ever saw of the family was the dog, and he is about the size of a large rat, with hair which is a mixture of light brown and black in color.

It is impossible for me to tell you how entertaining these little creatures are. When we passed by the villages you could see them scampering around and barking. Again and again I have seen them playing about or sitting on the top of their houses, giving no heed to us until the wagon train was close upon them, when the entire colony would pop into their holes with every evidence of fear.

A moment later each little fellow would stick his head out, his black, beadlike eyes glistening, while he looked around as if asking whether or not you saw how quickly he could get under cover when it pleased him to do so.

I know of nothing more comical than these little animals, and yet they look so much like rats that I would greatly prefer to see them at a distance rather than make any attempt at taming them, as Eben Jordan declares is his intention to do as soon as he can catch one alive.

I have my doubts, however, about his being able to catch one, unless he is cruel enough to wound it first with a rifle ball.

COLONEL RUSSELL'S MISHAP

Just before we arrived at the Platte River, we crossed a small creek, the bottom of which was exceedingly soft; the men were forced to double up the teams in order to draw the heavy loads along, and Colonel Russell's wagon upset in midstream, where the water was two or three feet deep.

Now there was nothing comical in such a mishap, and yet Ellen and I, who were standing on the bank of the creek where we could see all that was going on, laughed until I felt actually ashamed of myself. It was all so ridiculous that I could not have kept my face straight whatever might have been the result.

If the accident had happened quickly, there would not have been anything so very funny about it; but, instead, the wagon toppled slowly, the men striving meanwhile to prevent it from going entirely over. In the heavy wagon were Mrs. Russell and four children. We saw first the youngest child, as if some one had tossed him out, come shooting from the wagon and strike the water. Then another child, and so on, one after another, exactly like a lot of grasshoppers, until Mrs. Russell herself appeared. Out they marched in the same order, water streaming from their clothing, which was bedaubed with mud.

Mother reproved Ellen and me severely for laughing when our neighbors were suffering; but even as she spoke the Russell procession passed along the edge of the bank, marking the way with mud and water, and I noticed that it was all she could do to keep her face straight while she scolded us.

CHIMNEY ROCK

When finally we crossed the Platte River, the men of the company rejoiced, although I was unable to learn why, except that it marked, as mother suggested, the first stage of the journey, the second of which would come to an end at Fort Bridger, and the third in that land where we hoped to settle.

Not long after crossing this river we had a first glimpse of that enormous mass which travelers speak of as Court House Rock, which, so those who have seen both say, looks from the distance not unlike the Capitol at Washington. A few miles farther on we saw another huge pile called Chimney Rock.

I doubt not but that both would have been well worth the seeing, yet our desire to look at them more closely was not gratified. The trail leads some distance off, and when mother proposed to father that we might halt for a day in order to get a nearer view of the curiosities, he shook his head decidedly, saying, almost gruffly, that we who were bent on finding new homes had no time to fritter away in looking at this odd thing or at that.

Eben Jordan, however, borrowing one of his father's horses, rode off to Chimney Rock by himself, and when he came back he told Ellen and me that we need not shed many tears because of failing to see it close at hand, because it was nothing more than a lot of big stones that looked as if they might have been carelessly plastered together with mud.

Of course this couldn't be the fact; but Eben has no eye for scenery and, I dare say, might turn his nose up at what every one else would believe wonderful or full of beauty.

AT FORT LARAMIE

Forty-eight days after leaving Independence we came to Fort Laramie, which is more like a trading post than like a fortification. It stands on the banks of the river Platte, is owned by the American Fur Company, and is six hundred and seventy-two miles from Independence by the trail we came over.

Just fancy! We had traveled nearly seven hundred miles, the men of the company walking all the way; yet during that time, with the exception of the mishap to Colonel Russell's wagon and the loss of a few head of cattle, we had come to no harm.

At Fort Laramie we slept in a real house for the first time since starting on the long journey. It was not such a building as we lived in at Ashley, and yet it was to me almost beautiful, after I had remained so long in the wagon.

I fancied I would sleep on that night as never before since the march began, and that we would have supper and breakfast properly and conveniently served.

I had supposed the mosquitoes and the midges were as thick in our wagons as it would be possible to find them anywhere; but when we came into that house the place was swarming with them, and they prevented us from closing our eyes in rest during the entire night. Never was a girl better pleased than I when the first light of day came in through the windows.

COOKING IN FRONT OF A FIREPLACE

After striving to cook food in front of one of the two fireplaces in that house, I was actually ashamed of having complained because our stove in the wagon on a stormy morning had seemed to me like some contrary animal.

However much trouble we might have had with wet fuel and lack of draft owing to the shortness of the stovepipe, it was as nothing compared with those rude fireplaces, where our faces were burned almost to a crisp, our eyes filled with smoke, and whatever was cooking came from the heat thickly incrusted with ashes.

I resolved not to grumble at anything we might find in California, provided we had conveniences where we could cook with some degree of comfort, and a place in which to lie down where we would be protected from insects.

TRAPPERS, HUNTERS, AND INDIANS

I suppose Eben might describe Fort Laramie so that it would to a stranger present the appearance of a stronghold; but for my part I saw there only scores upon scores of savages, loitering around outside the walls, gambling, racing horses, bartering furs, or gorging themselves with half-cooked meat, while here and there could be seen the noisy trappers, some dressed fancifully after the fashion of the Indians, and others decked out in buckskin clothing.

There were boasting hunters who swaggered around, peering curiously under our wagon covers when we had taken refuge there; and all around, corralled or feeding near at hand, were cattle and ponies almost without number.

Our company was not the only party of Pikers at Fort Laramie. It seemed to me there must have been three or four hundred who had been traveling as we had traveled, some hoping to go into that land of Oregon which was represented as being wondrously beautiful, and others bound for California.

Ellen and I would have visited among the strange Pikers had it not been for the throngs of trappers, hunters, and Indians, such as I have already written about. Mother declared it would be well for us girls to stay in our wagon, and this she came to believe firmly after two of the trappers engaged in a downright battle wherein both used knives, and both were sorely wounded.

The people round about did not appear to think this fighting wicked or strange, and instead of endeavoring to make peace among them, all, even a few women, stood around watching the fray as if it was some exhibition of an innocent nature.

I was sick with the sights of Fort Laramie even before mother sent Ellen and me to the wagon, and felt well content to remain there until next morning, never grumbling when I struggled to keep a fire going in the stove in order that we might cook supper.

ON THE TRAIL ONCE MORE

It seemed to me that every member of our company, with the possible exception of Eben Jordan, was delighted when the word had been passed around during the evening that we should pull out at early daybreak.

We were getting near to that forking of the trail where we would bear southward and then westward, passing around a great salt sea on our way to California.

We soon came among the foothills, and it was really a relief to be climbing up one hill and sliding down another, instead of driving over a level plain where was nothing to vary the monotony. Although Ellen and I were pleased with this change in the appearance of the country, our fathers found little in it to give them pleasure, for we had come to where grass was scanty and the way difficult for the animals.

As father said, from then on we might suffer such privations and hardships as we had not experienced since leaving Independence; but that I could hardly credit, for it did not seem to me possible we would have more discomfort than when we were marching in the rain, with the ground so soft that the cattle could only with difficulty drag the wagon along.

I suppose our people did have some trouble in finding grass for the animals; but we girls knew little regarding such matters. Our work was to aid in preparing the meals, and, as Ellen said, in keeping our minds as cheerful as possible; these tasks we performed to the best of our ability, without hearing very much of the perplexities of the men, save when Eben Jordan came to us with tales of trouble.

INDEPENDENCE ROCK

After leaving Fort Laramie the first thing which particularly attracted my attention was a perfect mountain of rock, fully a hundred feet in height and more than a mile in circumference, father told me, which stood near the Sweetwater River, between the ranges of mountains which border the Sweetwater Valley.

It was an "imposing work of nature," so Colonel Russell said; but to me the most interesting thing about it was that the first celebration of the Fourth of July by a company of people bound to Oregon was held at the place. On the rocks, as high up as one can see, are a multitude of names, many, many hundreds, some painted, and others cut into the soft stone by those who had visited the place.

Another thing about Independence Rock which causes me to remember it even more than as "an imposing work of nature," was that near it one could pick up all the saleratus he needed, for there are veritable ponds of it, where, so father said, water filled with the salts had evaporated, leaving the saleratus itself in pools which looked as if made of milk.

Next morning we came upon a great gap in the mountain wall which is called the Devil's Gate; through it flows a beautiful stream, on the banks of which we found wild currants and gooseberries in greatest abundance.

ARRIVAL AT FORT BRIDGER

About the middle of July we arrived at Fort Bridger, where we were to turn off upon the California trail, and where, if Ellen's advice had been followed, this story of mine would have begun.

Why it should be called Fort Bridger I fail to understand, for there are no signs of a fort about, but only three or four miserable log huts in which live two fur traders with their trappers and hunters.

One might have believed it quite an important place, however, because when we arrived there were no less than five hundred Indians of the Snake tribe encamped round about the log huts. Beyond them on every hand could be seen wagon train after wagon train of people who had come not only from Pike County, but from Ohio and Indiana, as well as from Illinois and Missouri, the greater number intent on gaining the Oregon country, with perhaps two hundred who were going to California.

Of course there were also at this place hunters and trappers, traders coming from or going into Oregon or California, Spaniards, Negroes, and red men, the greater number of all this throng living in canvas tents, in wagons or log huts, while the rest made shift as best they might in the open air.

It was, like Fort Laramie, a place where Ellen and I had best remain in the wagons, for no one could tell what the savages might do if two girls wandered among their lodges, and certainly we had no desire to make their acquaintance.

Here, as everywhere since leaving Independence, we heard that song which by this time had grown threadbare, —

"My name it is Joe Bowers."

The Negroes and the Spaniards, the trappers and the hunters, were all singing it, and the wonder to Ellen and me was where so many people could have heard it.

WITH OUR FACES TOWARD CALIFORNIA

After spending one day at Fort Bridger we set off early in the morning with our faces turned toward California, and our hearts beating furiously. For the first time since leaving home it seemed as if we were really on the journey.

The trail ran up hill or down, all the way, but there was very little difference, so far as hardships were concerned, from that which we had already experienced.

During the first three or four days our fathers had no difficulty in finding grass and water in plenty for the cattle, although there were times, of course, when for mile after mile we passed through nothing but sage grass, which even the oxen would not eat. Every night during this time, we came upon a pleasant place in which to camp, and, best of all, so Eben Jordan thought, the game was abundant everywhere. When he had shot a small bear and brought it into camp, it seemed as if his cup of happiness was full. One might have thought the lad had performed some wondrous deed, from the way he strutted to and fro, repeating marvelous accounts of his battle with the beast.