We were camped near the loading pen of a large cattle corral placed beside a lonely railroad siding. We had no means of knowing where Adams had gone; no way of pursuing him. We had no idea where to find the sheriff of that county or other officer of the law. If we should succeed in capturing the thieves, what sort of a case could we make against them? We had no written agreement—not the scratch of a pen to show that they owed us anything at all. And possession is nine points of the law. Then, how could we live while waiting for results from the slow-moving legal machinery? The case looked hopeless from every angle.
I told Dan about Mrs. Adams’ conduct the day before and something of the affair with the man. He read me quite a lecture and then advised me to forget the whole episode as quickly as possible. We had but one object in life—to reach California as soon as fate would let us. We must dismiss the California outfit from our minds—not speak of it again. But one road lay open to us. We must have recourse to a “side-door Pullman.”
Bundles on backs, we struck out for a water tank, there to await the coming of a freight. A long string of coal cars pulled in and stopped for water. Dan’s request for a ride to Cheyenne was granted with the proviso that we drop off before we reached the city. The brakeman spoke to the engineer, who agreed to take advantage of a steep grade a few miles east of town to slow down sufficiently for us to jump in safety, adding that this would be our only chance, as trains always ran down the further slope into the city at a high speed. We were forced to ride in a gondola, which is a fairly warm place in a blazing sun. Mile after mile we rode, and at last were warned of the approach to the hill. Crouching at the end of the car, we waited for the speed to slacken.
Suddenly I noticed that the speed was increasing instead of diminishing, and a glance ahead showed the engineer waving his arms frantically. The brakeman bounded into the car.
“My God!” he yelled. “The super’s on behind and Buck daren’t slow down. We’re over the hill. You’ll be pinched in Cheyenne, sure, and we’ll get a sixty-day layoff, if we don’t all get the bounce.”
“We must jump for it, Dan,” I said. “There is no other way. And we’ll have to be quick about it, too.”
Gathering my skirts in one hand, I clung to the side of the car with the other and leaned far out and down. Dan begged me not to try it, but followed my lead when he saw that I was determined to go. The earth reeled by at a frightful speed, the wind lashed my face, the heavy freight lurched from side to side with crash and roar, gathering momentum with every turn of the wheels.
For a moment my courage failed and I hung motionless. Then with a violent outward thrust of hand and arm, I made a sidelong leap. My feet struck the gravelled path at the side of the rails with a thud, and catching my stride, I ran clear. Dan was not so fortunate, but rolled headlong down the embankment, landing in a clump of brush. In an instant I reached his side and found him unhurt, but pale as a ghost from the strain. Together we darted into the tall bushes and sank down, just as the caboose swept by, with a man, evidently the superintendent referred to by the brakeman, standing on the rear platform beside the conductor.
We were still a couple of miles from town, so, adjusting our packs, we set off down the hot and dusty road. We had not walked far when a teamster gave us a lift to our destination.
The only possible camping place was beside a small stream in a group of trees at the south side of the town. While I made camp Dan went into Cheyenne. About dusk he returned, whistling cheerfully, with the welcome news of a job in the morning. He had also made a trip to the reservation and delivered the note sent by our wayside acquaintance to his friend. This man sent us a little brown tent, made in two pieces with folding supports for convenience in carrying. It is called a “dog tent” by the soldiers and formed a valuable addition to our equipment. It shelters two persons comfortably and is so light that I could carry half besides my usual load without serious inconvenience.