How like home it appeared to us when we saw the blue smoke curling from the chimneys, the children playing around their homes, and heard the shrill whistle of the engine which pierced the deep silence of the open plain.
This little town is comparatively an insignificant place of fifteen or twenty houses, and is situated in the midst of a dry and barren prairie, far from the beauties of civilization and cultivation. Nevertheless, here were houses whose walls echoed the cheerful din of several families. Domestic animals were feeding in the vicinity, and here were the United States wagons, passing back and forth to the fort which stood in the distance. All this spoke home and comfort to us; and it is needless to say that after a journey of many days in the solitude of the wilderness, during which time we saw but few persons and scarcely a trace of human mechanism, we were deeply impressed and let our reflections carry us back to the land from whence we came. After enjoying the novelty of the place, which is but a star in the prairie-world and connected with civilization by naught but the iron rail, we prepared for further adventure.
There is not the least plant cultivated here, and the most exorbitant prices were charged us for our little necessaries. I recollect I wanted to buy a funnel here to use with our water-barrel. I had never bought a funnel, but I supposed a small one would cost about twenty-five cents. So I picked out one to suit me and threw down fifty cents to the store-keeper, and looked for change. Now, what do you think? Why, he stood there looking at me until I asked him what he wanted. “I want the rest of the price of that funnel.” “Why, what is the price of it?” said I. “Six bits; the usual price is a dollar,” said he. I felt a little surprised at being asked seventy-five cents for a little funnel; so I said to him, “Is it silver?” “No.” “Is there any virtue in it that would be conveyed to the water upon running through it?” “No.” “Well, then, is it a legacy from your grandmother? or what the thunder makes it so valuable?” said I, appearing somewhat curious. “Well,” said he, “I will give you five minutes to settle up.” “Well,” said I, “this is too valuable a thing to take out on the prairie and run the risk of its being stolen, so I will give you just five minutes to hand over that half dollar.” He said I had bought the funnel and must pay for it. At this I grabbed four funnels, and told him that I considered I was in hell anyhow, and if he thought he could better or worse my condition any to just draw his brakes; and we started for the door. He came running after us and said he would let us have the funnel for fifty cents. We told him we did not need any funnels. “Well,” said he, “here’s your half dollar.” “Well,” said I, “you owe me more than that.” “Why, how can that be?” said he. “Why,” said I, “if everything else is worth so much, money is worth something too, and that half dollar has drawn twenty-five cents interest.” “Well,” said he, “this is hell!” We told him that was what we took it for, and went on. He came running into the prairie and paid us the fifty cents, with interest, and took his funnels. If we could have got him a little farther from the fort we would have charged him compound interest and all the funnels; but under the circumstances we concluded to settle reasonably. We then picked up an old oyster-can and set it over the hole in the barrel, and with a picket-pin and the ax we drove a hole through the bottom of the can, and then had a funnel and a quarter for our trouble.
We now steered for Colorado, due west. Stopping at the Smoky Hill Fork to fill our barrel, we were told by a ranchman that the next water in that direction was the Barrel Springs,—so called from the barrels sunk there by hunters years ago,—thirty-five miles distant. We had not had any trouble about water yet, and did not think it necessary to ask many questions. So we marched as true to the direction pointed out to us as possible, and wended our way slowly along, killing jack-rabbits and antelopes for supplies, and conversing upon such subjects as would best pass away the time. Our barrel held seven bucketfuls of water, and the drive being but thirty-five miles, we were in no hurry and not as saving with the water as we might have been.
The first night out was a pleasant camp, and a little chase afforded us great sport. Directly after striking camp upon a spot whence we could see several miles in any direction, so level was the surrounding country. A deer was seen watching us in the distance. “Ah,” said John, “now for a race.” So, with carbine in hand, he mounted the gray mare; and the deer was soon seen bounding away with head erect, and John in close pursuit. Luckily for me, the chase was around camp; and the fun of viewing that race was all to myself. The deer at first appeared to think it all sport; but seeing the gray mare gaining upon him, and John’s long hair streaming in the wind while hurling lead from the old carbine, he appeared to realize his situation, and started off as if in a race for life, only touching the high places. John slowly returned from the chase, and riding into camp asked me if we needed any meat. “If we do,” said he, “I can get that deer very easily.” “Oh,” said I, “that meat is like the funnel, it is too dear entirely. I suppose we can do without it.”
The next morning, after taking our breakfast, we moved on, expecting to reach the Barrel Springs about noon, having but one bucket of water left. Noon came, and no water was left in the barrel; and the springs were not yet in sight. Twilight began to curtain the light of day, and our suspicions were aroused lest we had passed the looked-for spot. The weather was warm, the air dry, and our horses that night looked in vain at the empty barrel that lay drying in its hoops, and from which they had quenched their thirst so often. Our sleep that night was haunted with the thought of our probably serious condition; and the next day at early dawn, without breakfast, we hastened in the prescribed direction, knowing that if we had passed the springs, which was the most probable, it might be many miles before we could again find the cooling fluid so essential to life. To turn back to find it was equally as uncertain, so we determined to go forward. The plain grew very sandy, and the sun, without one cloud to veil its brightness, darted its torrid rays upon us with mighty power. Each hour of that long day was an anxious year, and greater pains than we took at every little green spot and hollow to find water by digging deep into the soil could not be taken by any one searching for a morsel upon which hung the last hope of mortal life. Our horses, too, by their tardy gait, showed their great weariness; and the whole was truly a thirsty outfit. Night came and no water. That night there was not one cloud in the sky; but the moon did not seem bright to our eyes, and the stars did not seem to twinkle. We were alone in the desert, deserted by all animation, and without one single thing to whisper to us a word of encouragement. To see those poor perishing horses licking that empty barrel, and then gaze at us with their ears dropped to the side of their heads, as if to say, “We are dying of thirst,” was enough to sadden any human, and to call up before our minds the terrible accounts of which we had read of whole outfits of men, women, and little children, whose bones were found withering upon the burning sands. O God! what must be the agony of a parent whose little infants are fast gathering in their innocent countenances the picture of death, and without one drop of water to give them in their last appeal! Softly the night melted into day, and the morn brought no relief. But without showing one spark of discouragement, we pushed on with parched lips. About noon one of the horses became so weak that he could do his part no longer. We unhitched him and put the other one at the end of the tongue; and while I led the fore horse, John whipped the hind one along, followed by the big blood-hound with his great red tongue lolling from his mouth. I imagine many of the most sorrowful sights are only seen by their unfortunate presenters. We would have given five dollars for a cup of water as freely as we ever gave five cents for a glass of soda. Toward evening John became so weak that he was obliged to ride, and I could see that his heart had sunk far into his bosom. I wore just as brisk an appearance as the circumstances would permit of, and trudged along leading the gray mare and whistling as much comfort to my perishing comrade as could be done with swelled lips. I will never forget that effort! I never could whistle a single tune in God’s world, and I imagine that tune I got off then was rather killing John than amusing him. Nevertheless, it was my best.
About nine o’clock we made another dry camp. The country had grown rough, showing signs of water; and seeing a cow-track by the bright light of the moon, we were assured that water was near. But we were tired; and the first pangs of thirst having somewhat subsided, we concluded to wait for the morn. That night John did a great deal of dreaming, and said so many funny things that I am sure if there had been a shorthand reporter there he could have written an interesting volume, and might have had love-letters that would have been models for the most affectionate writers. In the morning I arose early and mounted the gray mare that had been so gallant, and then over the hills for water. I followed the cow-track that I had seen in the evening; and the tracks became more and more numerous, until deep paths were seen, winding among the hills. After traveling about four miles from camp I came upon an elevated spot, whence I viewed such beauties that the occasion shall never be forgotten, though time shall find me aged and gray, and my faithful companion far away. There in front of me, and at my feet, lay a most beautiful valley, carpeted with richest green, and tenderly holding upon its bosom little pools of the liquid for which we had so long searched. The little sprouting cotton-wood trees that decked the slopes of that treasured spot seemed to call out to us to come and see the beauties so rarely seen by aught else but the wild herds that trampled beneath their green foliage. Without the least ceremony, a gray mare and thirsty rider might have been seen dashing down the hill-side toward the fountain of life. The cattle that were standing in the water lashing the flies, with great astonishment at the sight of their new visitors, readily yielded their rights to us, and in we went.
Oh give me not a golden cup,
My parching lips to cool;
But, like the wild beast, I will sip
The water from the pool.
As soon as we had all we wished we pushed off with all speed for camp. There, among the barren hills, lay the bay horse stretched out upon the sand, and apparently resigned to his fate, while John was sitting under the wagon, viewing the surroundings as though wishing the power to bring water from the barren bluffs. Though I did not bring water from the rocks, I brought it in a tin bucket; and it was quite natural that I should imagine myself the Moses of old, watering the perishing in the midst of the desert. After drinking of the water John was greatly refreshed, and there was enough left to take the dimness from the eyes of the perishing horse. We now prepared to move down to the water. It was only with great difficulty that we succeeded in getting our fainting horse to the valley; and it was an affecting scene when the pool met his eye to see him prick up his ears and stagger into the water. After we were all refreshed, we turned the horses to graze, and set about getting something to eat. We had often been warned of the great peril of traveling over the unmarked prairie without a guide, and had read of many outfits dying of thirst, but this was our first experience. We had come from a land of plenty, and relished the many knickknacks and rarities of a civilized country; but the most pleasant draught we had ever taken in our lives, was that from the beautiful little lake in the green valley of Big Sand Creek. Some may relish liquors, while others will choose milder and more delicate drinks; but when your system is racked with a thirsty fever, and the blood is drying in your veins, then is naught half so delicious as the unadulterated fluid that flows so freely from the fountain of nature. There were many antelopes here; and we camped for several days in this beautiful valley, recruiting our weary team upon the rich pasture, and killing antelopes and drying their meat.
One clear evening, while sitting in our lonely camp watching the sun as it sunk low in the far horison, we saw an object moving in the dim distance. Quickly the glass was sighted and the focus told the person of a man on horseback moving toward us. We were overjoyed at this sight, and were glad to meet one who could tell us where we were and explain the surrounding. We received him most cordially, and after feasting him to the best we had, we all felt refreshed and seated ourselves for a chat. He told us that we were upon the Big Sandy, forty miles above the Arkansas River, into which it flows, and that we would find cow-ranches all the way down. He said he lived at the mouth of the creek, and gave us the history of the country through the many years that he had been breathing pure western air. New-comers on the plains are called tender feet; and having been called that before, we concluded to take advantage of this occasion and be as big an Indian-killing outfit as any he could tell of, though of course we were strangers in that part of the country. After he had narrated some interesting events, we began telling some of our experiences, and among other things incidentally mentioned our coming across from Wallace. Upon his asking us if we had struck the Barrel Springs, we told him that we had not, and he was very much astonished and wondered how we got across. “Oh,” said John, “it only took a couple of days to come across; and any outfit that could not travel two or three days without food or drink, were what we called tender feet in our country.” I then took the opportunity to inquire what kind of a place the springs was. He told us that they were at the end of a gravel-ridge, where stood quite a little bush; and at that season of the year you would have to dig about two or three feet into the earth to find water. This was a sufficient description to fully convince us that this was not the place we were looking for; and it was no wonder that we had passed them in looking for a stream of water springing from the ground with a flow of a hundred gallons per minute. We made no reply, but looked at each other as much as to say, “Springs in this country are not such as we are used to.” Twilight was gathering, and after telling us the old battle-ground where General Chivington and his followers massacred five hundred Indians one morning before breakfast, several years ago, was but a few miles above us, he said that he would go, as he wanted to stop at a ranch two miles below for the night. Bidding us good-night, and asking us to call upon him as we passed, we parted.