The Land of Lure: A Story of the Columbia River Basin

by Elliott Smith

The party with which Gully was going had decided to take one wagon with four horses to convey their crew, with the camp equipment, to the grain fields. The men came in every conceivable means of conveyance, accompanied by a member or, in some instances, by the entire family, who were to return with the rigs to their homes, after seeing them safely on their way. Each came with his blanket roll neatly tied with a cord or strap. Two dilapidated telescope grips, made of canvas, were provided to carry the extra clothing of the party; a writing tablet and a package of plain white envelopes, by means of which the messages, scribbled with pencil, and often by lantern light, of love, sorrow, success or defeat, were to be conveyed to the lonely ones in the desert wilds; a spool of black cotton thread, some needles and a few extra buttons, for an emergency, were carefully stored deep in one corner of the grip. All to be used in common, all brothers in the wilds; there was no business rivalry, no competition there; just an equal desire that all might live.

They were late in getting started, owing to the distance some of them had to come, and when the last of the party rode up, seated upon a horse fully harnessed, complaining that his delay was caused by the collapsing of one of the wheels of his vehicle, the poor old weather beaten buggy rendered unserviceable by its constant use on many trips to and fro across the sandy waste; the spiteful particles of sand, gnawing, cutting and grinding their way into each tiny crevice, between the rim and spoke, into the hub and under the tire, until its wheels, after days, weeks and months of rattling, squeaking and groaning, could no longer stand the strain, the inanimate thing sank helplessly down, to be cast to one side, among the harsh, rasping sagebrush, and left there to sizzle, shrink and bleach in the blistering sun rays, until called for and taken helplessly back to the home of its owner for repairs, in the way of having hard bits of sun parched leather, cut from well worn and discarded shoes, forced between its once perfectly fitting rim and tire, the whole being wound and rewound with the indispensable balewire. Such an end; what could be expected of a thing of flesh and blood?

"Never mind," cried his waiting companions, cheerfully. "You can soak the old critter up in the irrigation ditch pretty soon." And with this merry jest, at the same time recalling to their minds the condition of their own means of conveyance, and also one of the many uses to which the abundance of water could be put when once turned loose, to run rampant across the stretch of barren waste. They prepared to start on their journey.

Each of the party, with sad heart and quivering voice, all doing their best to present an indifferent exterior, bade the waiting members of their families, the gathered neighbors, and the members of the survey crew a hearty goodbye, and drove northward, knowing full well that their toilsome progress across the valley would be followed by tear stained eyes and aching hearts, until the evening shades settled and the thin spiral column of dust, watched for a time after the object which caused it to mount high into the heated atmosphere had been hidden by a cloak of darkness.

The first night out the travelers spent at a small spring that flowed in a feeble stream down the rock ledge that formed the northern boundary of the desert, and sank from sight, being swallowed by the thirsty sands. It was a hard drive that brought them to this place, and during the hours that intervened between their departure from the well and arrival at their first camp, was spent in almost silence. Each of those present seemed lost in silent contemplation of the difficulties that confronted him. Various subjects had been brought up for discussion, followed for a few moments, and then were allowed to drop. All except Travis Gully, who was driving, seemed lost to their surroundings.

It was a varied assortment of which this little group of men was composed, taken at random from various points, from different walks of life, no common interest in the way of mechanics or profession, yet bound together by stronger ties, a mutual understanding of each other's absorbing ambition to build a home; appreciating to the fullest extent the difficulties and hardships endured, the disappointments and suffering caused by the one common affliction, poverty.

There was the muscular iron molder from Pittsburg, who would sit, with half closed eyes, and liken the heat of the desert to the fiery glow of the familiar furnaces; the clouds of dust to the dense smoke of his home city, and ask himself: "Had he moved wisely?" The pressman, from one of the largest printing establishments in Denver, who would in dreamy silence listen to the constant clatter of the wagon, and in fancy hearing the rumble of his once favorite machine, the press, rolling out in endless sheets items of news, gathered from all over the world; suddenly the wagon wheel strikes a stone, and with a lurch, he starts with outstretched hand to adjust a roller, replace a belt, or take up the torn web. Smiles feebly at his absentmindedness and resumes his seat. The professor, who for years taught in a college in Kansas, watched with earnest gaze each specimen of desert plant life that struggled for existence beside the dusty road, unable to release himself from the desire to increase his botanical knowledge. An exsoldier and Travis Gully, the farmer, completed this incongruous party.

Upon their arrival at the spring just before sundown, they arose from their seats in the wagon, cramped and dusty from their long ride, and shambling to the rock ledge, relieved their parched throats with copious draughts from the spring. Knowing that the scarcity of water on the road over which their route lay would necessitate a forced drive on the morrow, they hastily unharnessed the horses, gave them water and picketed them to munch the scant herbage until sufficiently cooled to be given their ration of grain, they then prepared their own frugal supper, after which, with pipes lit, and each seated around the smoldering sagebrush fire, their faces turned homeward, watched the shades of evening settle, and noted the twinkling lights that shone from their humble homes miles away across the level plain. Conversation no longer lagged; each was eager to express his views as to the result of the survey now being made, and the certainty of the wealth to follow the reclamation of the thousands of acres of fertile land that lay stretched for miles to the south. No one doubted for a moment but what it would come. Was not each of the railroads that extended across the great Continental Divide, advertising the fertile valleys of the Northwest as the goal of the poor man? Was not every Commercial Club in the cities through which these avenues of commerce and forerunners of civilization ran, sending out and scattering among the inhabitants of the entire territory from the Atlantic seaboard to the Rocky Mountains, pamphlets in which was set forth, in glowing word pictures, accounts of the possibilities of the undeveloped lands now laying idle, yours for the asking? Were they not morally responsible for the welfare of each family who, lured by their flattering descriptions, had given up their means of a livelihood, and sold their small accumulation of personal property, in most instances for what they could get; frequently scarcely enough to reach this land of dreams, and at best with but a few hundred dollars?

Would these mighty forces that were being brought to bear for the purpose of converting the undeveloped resources of this vast country into a merchantable article, going to accomplish their end by the sacrifice of thousands of human ambitions, and even lives? Certainly not; give them a chance.

This survey was being made with the view to placing within the reach of the settlers the means whereby wealth and affluence might be obtained.