Father rode on and crossed, quite easily, the uneven bed of the swift river, with its gravelly islands and deep pools.
When it came our turn, our patient beast plunged in and courageously advanced to near the middle of the stream, wavered and stood still and seemed about to go down with the current. How distinctly the green, rapid water, gravelly shoals and distant bank with its anxious onlookers is photographed on my memory’s page!
Only for a moment did the brave animal falter and then sturdily worked her way to the shore. Mr. Warbass, with white face and trembling voice, said “I thought you were gone, sure.” His coat was off and he had been on the point of plunging in to save us from drowning, if possible. Willing hands helped us down and into the hospitable home, where we were glad to rest after such a severe trial. A sleepless night followed for my mother, who suffered from the reaction common to such experience, although not panic stricken at the time of danger.
It was here I received my first remembered lesson in “meum et tuum.” While playing under the fruit trees around the house I spied a peach lying on the ground, round, red and fair to see. I took it in to my mother who asked where I got it, if I had asked for it, etc. I replied I had found it outdoors.
“Well, it isn’t yours, go and give it to the lady and never pick up anything without asking for it.”
A lesson that was heeded, and one much needed by children in these days when individual rights are so little regarded.
The muddy wagon road between this point and Olympia over which the teams had struggled in the springtime was now dry and the wagon was put together with hope of a fairly comfortable trip. It was discovered in so doing that the tongue of the vehicle had been left at Monticello. Not to be delayed, father repaired to the woods and cut a forked ash stick and made it do duty for the missing portion.
At Olympia we were entertained by Mr. and Mrs. Dickinson with whom we tarried as we went to Oregon.
My mother preferred her steed to the steamer plying on the Sound; that same trip the selfsame craft blew up.
On horseback again, we followed the trail from Olympia to the Duwampsh River, over hills and hollows, out on the prairie or in the dark forest, at night putting up at the house of a hospitable settler. From thence we were told that it was only one day’s travel but the trail stretched out amazingly. Night, and a stormy one, overtook the hapless travelers.