CHAPTER XIV.
Tom Barnum Muses Over the Position the Government Will Take in Regard to the Bed of Red River Being Suitable Resting Place for the U.S. Mail.
After having deposited the patent office reports in their watery grave in Red river I met and had an interview with Tom Barnum, one of the owners of the stage line. "Billie, you devil," were his first words to me, "been puttin' the mail in the river, be ye?" I answered, "Yes, sir." "Well," Barnum said, "didn't you take some pretty risky chances when you did this—are you sure you won't get us into some serious trouble?" I told him that I believed that I had just saved his company not less than $5000 by "dumping" that bulky trash. I told him that the company had made complaints to the government about sending the reports into New Mexico and that the Postmaster General had not given us the consideration we deserved and the postmasters had also refused their acceptance after we had "carted" them to destination. It's my firm belief that in using the books in the manner I did they served the United States better than they could have done any other way. I told Mr. Barnum how ex-Governor Harney had befriended me in the matter and that I felt safe to say that no bad effects could grow out of my conduct.
This pacified Tom Barnum and I told him that I wanted his company to give me credit for half the money I had saved them on this book hauling business on the day of settlement. I also told him that I had promised to "deadhead" ex-Governor Harney and family (consisting at that time of wife and one child, a daughter fifteen years old) to the states and when they arrived in Kansas City, Missouri, he was to see that they got a pass over the road to New York City. Barnum wheezed out a little laugh and an exclamation that sounded like "h—l," but finished good naturedly by telling me that he would do it. As our conversation lengthened he said, "Billy, been thinking over this dead-headin' business of yourn,—Billy," again said Mr. Barnum, "you're an accommodatin' devil. I believe if the whole Santa Fe population would jump you for a 'free ride' to Kansas City you would give it to 'em and our company would put on extra stages for their benefit. It don't seem to make any difference to you what the company's orders are, you do things to suit your own little self, 'y bob!" Barnum went on musing, but I kept feeling of my ground and found I was still on "terra firma." "Well," says I, "don't forget all those little points on the day of settlement, especially what I have saved on the book business in the way of 'cartage' and 'storage.'" I told him that I might want to feather a nest some time for a nice little mate and cunning little birdies. This conversation took place at Bent's Old Fort. My next conversation with him took place in Santa Fe, New Mexico.
CHAPTER XV.
Tom Barnum Takes Smallpox. I Visit My Home. Dr. Hopkins Gets Broken
Window, a Quarter, and the Ill Will of the Stage Company.
During the year of 1863 I took a notion to "lay off" and go home on a visit. Tom Barnum, one of the owners of the road, was at Santa Fe at that time and was to be one of the passengers into Kansas City. I met Mr. Barnum in the "fonda" and he told me he was sick, remarking that he wished he would take the smallpox. I told him he would not want to have it more than once. "Well," said he, "if I took the smallpox it would either cure me of this blamed consumption or kill me." I told him that he wasn't ready to "kick the bucket" yet, for the boys needed him in Kansas City.
Mr. Barnum had been exposed to the smallpox but was not aware of it, so we started to Kansas City. When we arrived in Kansas City we went to the old Gillis hotel, the headquarters for all the stage company's employees. When the doctor came he told him that he had the smallpox, but that he need call no one's attention to it until he had given him leave. The doctor fixed up a bed in the attic, tore a glass out of the window and took every precaution to keep the pestilence from spreading through the house. The doctor took Tom Barnum up in the attic, placed plenty of water within his reach and put a negro to mind him. Then the doctor went to the office and told Dr. Hopkins that Barnum had the smallpox and was up in the attic. He said to the hotelkeeper that there was no need of announcing it to the boarders, but Dr. Hopkins said he would do it anyway, and for him to get Barnum out of the house and to a hospital, that he would ruin him. That night Dr. Hopkins announced to his guests that Barnum was there with the smallpox. Sixteen of his boarders left "post haste," but the house filled up again before night in spite of the smallpox sign. At that time, in the year of 1863, the Gillis house run by Dr. Hopkins was the only large house in Kansas City in use. There was a new building, the "Bravadere," up on the hill from the levee, but it had not been furnished.
When Barnum got over the smallpox he took the bed out the window and burned it, together with everything else in the room, and thoroughly fumigated the premises.
With a face all scarred with smallpox he then went down to the office and told the proprietor of the hotel what he had done with the furniture, bedding, etc., that he had used while he was sick. He told Dr. Hopkins that he wanted to pay him for the damage and asked him what price he should pay for the furniture he had burned. Hopkins told him he supposed $50 would cover it. Then he asked him how much he had damaged his house. Hopkins again replied that he injured him about $50. "All right," said Tom Barnum, "I'll pay it, but let me ask you how many boarders left you when they heard I was sick in the attic with the smallpox." Mr. Hopkins told him they all left. "So I understand, Mr. Hopkins, but will you tell me how many came in before night—how many empty beds did you have while I lay ill with smallpox?" Hopkins was hedging, but he had to answer that all his beds were full; that he had no room for more than came, but he said he felt sure that his house had been injured at least $50. Finally Tom Barnum happened to think of the window pane he had left out of his inventory of materials destroyed and mentioned it. Greatly to Barnum's disgust Hopkins scratched his head and replied that he guessed that a quarter would cover the damage to the window.