Alden the Pony Express rider

by Edward Sylvester Ellis

Shots had been exchanged with prowling Indians fully a score of times. It was extraordinary that although there were many narrow escapes on the part of the white men, not one had been so much as wounded. Shagbark was confident that he picked off one or two dusky prowlers.

One afternoon he was riding alone in front of the train, which was then making its laborious way through a series of foothills. He was in one of his moods when he wished to have no companion,—not even his favorite “younker,” Alden Payne. Suddenly from the cliffs on his right rang the sharp report of a rifle. There could be no mistaking the target, for the bowl of his briarwood pipe was shattered and sent flying into space, leaving only a stump of the stem between his lips.

It may be doubted whether any incident in his stormy life had ever thrown the guide into such a rage as this occurrence. He turned his head like a flash and glared at the point from which the shot had come. He detected the faint blue wreath curling upward from behind a huge boulder and was off his horse in a twinkling. His friends saw him dash up the cliff and pass from sight. They did not check the train, but since they were following a well marked trail, were confident he would soon return. When night closed in, however, and they went into camp he was still absent.

The guards were placed with the usual care and every man was on the alert. It was about midnight, when Fleming the leader heard a soft whistle from somewhere among the rocks which towered on their left. He recognized the signal and answered. The next minute Shagbark emerged from the gloom, made a few inquiries and waited until the change of the watchers took place. Then he lay down in his blanket and slept until daylight. He had not said a word about what had taken place while he was away, nor did he refer to it afterward. Alden Payne and his friends, however, noticed one peculiar fact: the hunter brought back another pipe with him. It was very different in structure from his former briarwood, being made of a species of clay baked red, and had a long reed for the stem. This he shortened to five or six inches and it served quite well as a substitute for the one destroyed. Alden was tempted to question him as to the means by which he procured it, but he had too much respect for the moods of the man to ask him any questions.

The long journey through the wild mountainous regions was so free from real danger that it gave some of the company an undue sense of security. They advanced with much caution and were well guarded day and night. They believed the red men as they peered out from their hiding places were afraid to attack them. Beyond a doubt this was largely true, but Shagbark warned his friends against placing too much reliance on the fact. He reminded them that the “varmints” were as patient in waiting their chance as a pack of wolves on the track of a wounded buffalo or worn out deer.

Among all there was none fonder of hunting than Alden Payne and his servant Jethro Mix. With the consent of the guide, they sometimes went out with him, but oftener ventured afield without his company. The colored youth proved his proficiency by bringing down some animal, generally of a species that served as an addition to the provision supply. In the course of these hunts, the youths secured between them specimens of the coyote, puma, wild cat, wolverine and in one instance a black bear.

Jethro in the last occurrence insisted that their prize was the largest grizzly bear that ever infested the Rockies and the mountainous neighborhood; but, since the specimen could not have weighed more than two hundred pounds, the youth was forced to admit his mistake.

“If ye run agin a grizzly,” said Shagbark, when the incident was told him, “ye won’t have no doubt of it. Besides you hain’t reached the region yet where ye’re likely to tumble over them little playthings.”

Alden naturally was anxious to shoot a grizzly and hoped he would do so long before reaching Salt Lake. Jethro’s ambition at times was the same, but he was often in doubt. Shagbark told so many appalling stories of that monarch of the western wilds, that the negro thought it would be just as well in case they met a grizzly not to pick a quarrel with him.

Now and then they caught glimpses of a Pony Express rider. Twice these coursers of the plains passed so near the camp that they exchanged greetings with the emigrants but neither did more than rein his pony down to a walk. The minutes were too precious to indulge in gossip, and after a few unimportant words they were off again and thundered from sight.