CHAPTER IV. THE START.
Although Hugh called Jack very early next morning, it already was daylight and the sun was just rising. Jack saddled Pawnee, rode out into the pasture and drove in the horses, and before breakfast they had cut out their pack animals and saddled them, and left them standing in the corral. The night before, Hugh had laid out their provisions, which were of the simplest kind; a sack of flour, some corn meal, oat meal, bacon, coffee, sugar and salt, were all they took. Their mess-kit consisted of two frying pans, a coffee pot, a small water bucket, a tin pan, a bake oven, tin plates and cups, and knives, spoons and forks. They took along, also, a dozen good butcher knives, a new axe and a small hatchet. Besides this, there was a coil of rope, from which lariats and lash ropes could be cut, in case of need.
Immediately after breakfast, Jack helped Hugh make up the loads, although really there was not much that he could do, except to look on and learn. They were to put the bedding and the mess outfit on one horse, the provisions on another, and the trade goods were to be carried by the two others.
Hugh said, "I wanted to get an early start this morning, if we could, because I expect likely the first day out we'll have some trouble with the horses. You see, they're fat and fresh, haven't been doing nothing all winter, and they won't want to travel away from home; so it's likely we won't go very far, and we'll have a long day. Now, you run down to the corral, son, and bring up the dun; we'll load him with some of this trade stuff and see how he does. Maybe you'd better let Jo pack on the off side this morning, 'cause we want to make these loads stay, if we can. You'll have plenty of chances to pack before we get back again, and I expect by the time we ride in here in the fall you'll be a regular old government packer."
Jack went down to the corral and got the horse. He could not help feeling a little disappointed that he was not to help put on the loads. He felt as if, from this morning until the time of their return, he would like to take an equal share in all the work that was to be done; still, he could see that what Hugh said was wise, and that it was important to have the packs well put on this morning, when the horses were all fresh; so he led the dun up to the bunk-house, and stood back and watched the packing, trying to follow each operation. While he did this, he realised that his memory of the few lessons in packing that he had had the fall before was not very fresh, and this quite reconciled him to seeing Jo handle the ropes.
The dun laid back his ears, and rolled his eyes, and humped up his back a little, as the saddle cinches were tightened, but stood quiet while the packs were put in place, and the manta thrown over them. He jumped a little as the lash rope touched his hips, when Hugh was preparing to throw it, but when the first pull was made by Jo, in tightening the lash cinch he bowed his back, put down his head, and made as if he would buck. Rube had him by the hackamore, however, and the men on either side clung to the ropes, and at last he was quieted until all the pulls had been made and the lash rope was fastened. But soon as Rube let go the hackamore, and he had taken a step or two and felt the swaying load on his back, he put down his head and began to buck in good earnest. Round and round he went, taking high jumps, and throwing his heels so far into the air that it seemed as if he must turn a somersault every time he struck the ground. Sometimes the load almost overbalanced, and he staggered, but the ropes held tight, and at last, tired of the hard work, he stood still. One of the men walked up to him and led him back to the bunk-house door, when the ropes were again tightened a little, and he was once more set free.
By this time Jack had gone down and brought up the black horse, on which a load was put, but he stood quiet. The provisions were put on the paint horse, which also was quiet; but the rattling of the dishes in their wooden box set the bay horse to bucking, though he did not keep it up long.
"There," said Hugh, when the bay had been caught again, and his load inspected, "I expect that's about as good as we can make it. Now then, son, it's time for you and me to saddle up, and then we can roll."
Jack brought Pawnee up to the house, and Hugh soon rode up on old Baldy. Mr. Sturgis, Mrs. Carter, and Rube and Jo all stood there to watch the travellers start. Hugh tied a lariat to the hackamore of the bay horse, and, after shaking hands with every one, started off down the valley; while Jack, somewhat moved at the parting, shook hands very earnestly with all, and then, riding out on the hillside, drove the three pack horses after Hugh. Once or twice he turned about in his saddle and took off his hat and waved it to the little group standing together by the bunk-house, who waved their hands or their handkerchiefs in response.
"Dear me!" said Mrs. Carter, as the figures grew smaller and smaller, as they rode down the valley, "it does seem a shame to let a baby like that go off into the Indian country. I'll bet his ma don't know what risks he's taking."
"Pshaw," said Jo, "I tell you that boy's as good as a man; I'd rather have him for a partner than a heap o' men I know; and the old man's as good as two men, any day in the week. You bet they'll have an awful good time, and won't see no trouble. I just wish't I was goin' with 'em."
"No," said Mr. Sturgis, "I don't think they'll have any trouble; Jack's a level-headed fellow, with a good deal more discretion than most boys of his age. There's a bare chance of course that they may meet some hostile Indians, but they're well mounted, and I don't think they'll have trouble."
For the first two or three miles after their start the horses went on very well, but about the middle of the morning, those that Jack was driving began to give him a little trouble. They were now getting into a country away from their usual range, and began to try to turn about and go home, and for the next half hour Jack was pretty busily employed turning back one after another that fell out of line and tried to retrace its steps. At length Hugh halted and dismounted, and motioning Jack to drive the pack horses by him, they sat down, and while Hugh smoked, had a little talk.
"Are they bothering you much?" asked Hugh.
"Yes," said Jack, "they keep trying to go back all the time; and that Dun is the worst of the bunch; he just won't go on."
"Well, we'll have to try to shove him along as far as Powell's place, and when they get a little tired, toward afternoon, likely they'll go better. I wouldn't be surprised though if it wouldn't be a good idea for us to borrow a horse from Powell, for you to ride during the day. I don't want you to run Pawnee down, chasing horses; I want to bring him into the Piegan camp fat, because I expect you'll do all your buffalo running on him. He's fat and strong now, and you don't weigh much, but still its pretty hard work running here and there, trying to keep a bunch of horses together, even if there's only three or four of 'em."
"Yes," said Jack, "I want to keep Pawnee in good shape, but I think that after the horses get used to their loads, and get used to travelling together, they'll go better, won't they?"
"I expect they will, and we needn't make up our minds about getting any horse until we get to Powell's. Maybe to-morrow we'll get Charlie to ride out with us for two or three hours, and help drive them horses. I expect if we can get 'em started right to-morrow, they'll go along pretty good."
After fifteen or twenty minutes they mounted and started on again. The horses had been feeding busily all this time, and now when they were driven along after the lead horse, they went more quietly, and made less trouble. Still, the day seemed a long one to Jack. They passed plenty of antelope on the prairie, but he had no time to think of them; he felt obliged to watch the horses constantly, and to keep them as close behind Hugh as he could. The prairie was full of pleasant sights and sounds, but there was no chance for him to enjoy them.
He felt very glad when, late in the afternoon, the low buildings of the Powell place came in sight. Half an hour later they were near enough to see the men working about the house, and then to see two figures in skirts come to the door and look out at them, and then at last to hear the delighted whoop of Charlie and the cheery greeting of Mr. Powell, as they came forward to shake hands with them. The horses were quickly unpacked and put in the pasture, the loads put under cover, and then all the family gathered around Jack and Hugh to hear the news from the neighbouring ranch.
"So you're really going to make that trip you talked about, are you, Jack?" said Charlie. "I tell you I'd give all my old boots if I were going along."
"So would I mine, Charlie," Jack replied. "I'll bet we could have a good time together. It's a great chance. You see, we're going up into the buffalo country, and we're going to be with the Indians, and see what they do and how they live. There ain't many fellows have a chance like this, and I wish you could be one of 'em."
"Well," said Charlie, "I know I can't; I've got to stay here and chase around over this prairie, riding for stock and killing wolves, when I might be going up there with you. It seems pretty hard, but I don't know as I ought to complain. I know father needs me, and now we're just getting a good start in stock, and if I were to go away he'd have to hire somebody to take my place, and he couldn't afford to do that. You see, father ain't like your uncle; I expect your uncle's a pretty rich man, but father ain't got anything except what you see here, and what stock we've got out on the range; then, besides that," he added, "I don't believe mother would be willing to have me go; she thinks it's awful dangerous for you and Hugh to go up there alone. We talked about that often last winter, and she said she didn't believe your mother'd ever let you go."
"Well," said Jack, "I don't believe there's much danger, because if there was, Uncle Will wouldn't have been willing to have me go, and I know he wanted me to. He said from the start that it would be a mighty good thing for me; and then, besides that, Hugh knows so much about Indians; they say that he's smarter even than an Indian about reading the signs of the prairie, and telling who is about, and what's likely to happen. Uncle Will said that he never would think of letting me go with any one except Hugh, for he thinks Hugh can carry a person through all right anywhere."
"I guess that's so; everybody that I ever heard talk about him in this country says that he's the smartest mountain man that there is. Why, last fall, after you went away, old Jim Baker and his brother John passed through here, and they asked especially after Hugh, and when they learned that he was working over at your uncle's, they turned off and went over there, two days' travel out of their road, to see him. Jim Baker didn't say anything, he never talks at all, but John said that Hugh was one of the old kind; that there were only a few of them left now in the mountains, and he wanted to see Hugh, and so did his brother."
"Well," said Jack, "we're going to make the trip, and I believe we're going to get through all right, and not have a bit of trouble, and I wish you were going with us."
"So do I wish it, but I know I ain't, so it's no use crying over it."
Lying about the Powell house Jack saw two of the wolf puppies that he had helped dig out the summer before. They seemed tame enough, a good deal like big dogs, but they did not make friends with strangers, as dogs would have done, but instead, moved off out of the way. With Charlie and Bess, however, they seemed on very good terms, and very grateful for any petting or attention. The sight of these great beasts made Jack think a little sadly of his own wolf, Swiftfoot, far away in New York.
Bess, too, talked with Jack about the trip that he was making, and seemed to feel a little uneasy about its possible dangers, while Mrs. Powell said she thought it a shame that Jack should be allowed to go away off among the Indians, where she was sure he was going to be killed.
Hugh laughed at her doleful prophecies, and said, "Why, Mrs. Powell, there ain't a mite o' danger. I wasn't much older than Jack when I first came out into this country, and I've been travelling about now for more than forty years, and nothing's ever happened to me. It seems strange that a sensible woman like you should have such queer ideas."
The journey formed the principal topic of conversation that evening, but Hugh and Jack remembered to tell Mr. Powell about the cow that had been killed as they were riding out two days before, and about the swift punishment that had fallen on the two wolves. When bedtime came, Hugh and Jack spread their blankets on the kitchen floor, and were soon sleeping soundly.
Next morning Hugh asked Mr. Powell if he could spare them a saddle horse, and if he would let Charlie ride a few miles with them, until they learned how the animals could travel on this second day. If they went well, the horse could be sent back by Charlie, but if it was necessary to keep it, Jack would send back a note, asking his uncle to furnish Mr. Powell with a horse to take its place through the summer.
This morning the horses took their loads better. The Dun bucked a little, but not nearly so much as the day before, while the other horses, as soon as their loads were put on and they were turned loose, began to feed quite contentedly. Jack and Charlie packed on the off side, both pulling at the ropes, but Jack arranging them, under Charlie's direction. When they started, the animals fell into line very promptly, and walked briskly along close behind the lead horse. They gave no trouble whatever, and seemed to have made up their minds that they were going somewhere, and must follow Hugh. So about the middle of the morning Hugh told Charlie that it was not necessary for him to come any further, and that they would not need to take along the extra horse. So they shook hands there, and Charlie rode off back to the ranch at a gallop, while the pack train started on its journey north. Jack felt now as if they were really cut off, for he knew that they would probably not see a white face again until they reached the far-away Missouri River.