CHAPTER IV

BACK TO THE BUFFALO RANGE

As we started back up-town Bill exclaimed gleefully:

"Well, boys, what do you think? When I offered them fellows the money you paid me for the outfit they would not take a dollar of it, but told me to keep it for an advance payment--a sort of retaining fee--for my services next season. They're coming out again next spring with a bigger party and made me promise to meet them here and go with them."

After Bill left us Tom said: "Bill never did know the value of money. He could just as well as not have had the whole outfit that he sold us or, if he didn't want to keep it, could have sold it for twice what we paid him for it. But he's a free-hearted, generous fellow and never thought of it. He's brave as a lion; never was known to do a mean or cowardly trick; a dead shot. I am afraid, though, that he will die with his boots on, and die young, too."

When we got back to the stable we found Jim Brown, the proprietor, there, and Tom told him that we had bought the wagon, mules, broncos, and so forth, and would pay his charges before taking them away, as soon as Wild Bill came around to confirm the sale.

"Now, men," said the veteran, when we reached our boarding-house, "we're beginnin' to see our way toward gettin' out of this town, an' the sooner the better, I say; but we've got to do some more plannin'. I'll give you my plans, an' if you can suggest better ways, all right. To-morrow mornin' we'll pay our bills, an' then we'll hitch up an' pull out onto that open ground out t'other side of Broadway and camp there an' go to work gettin' ready to leave here. In camp we can overhaul the outfit an' see just exactly what more we need."

"Nothing could be better," chipped in Jack.

"Same here," I added. "Now tell us what to do to get ready for travelling?"

"Hold on," said Tom, "I've got another suggestion to offer. We're going to have a heap heavier load than them hunters had, an' I'm in favor of gettin' a pair of lead harness an' spreaders an' putting them broncos on for leaders an' work four going out. We'll want to take about five months' supplies for ourselves an' what grain we can haul to help our animals through the winter, an' all that will make too much of a load for the mules alone. We can't afford to feed our stock full rations of grain, but they ought to have some to help 'em through the worst weather an' keep 'em from gettin' too poor."

"That's a good idea; but what if the mustangs won't work?" suggested Jack. "It's a common trick with their sort to balk in harness, though they may be good under the saddle."

"I know that," replied Tom, "an' so we want that question settled right here. Ef one or both of 'em refuses to pull we'll trade 'em off for something that'll work."

On going over to the stable next morning before breakfast to give the team a rubbing down, I found Jack there ahead of me, hard at work with currycomb and horse brush, grooming the stock.

Brown told us that Bill had called and said he should let us have the outfit when we came for it.

After breakfast, while Tom went down street to a second-hand store and bought lead harness and spreaders for the mustangs, Jack and I harnessed the mules and put all our belongings into the wagon. We were delighted to find that the broncos when hitched up walked away like old work horses, which they evidently were.

Moving out Shawnee Street, beyond Broadway, where there was open ground for camping, we made camp near a little creek and, after unloading the wagon, gave everything a general overhauling to determine what more we needed to fully equip us for the trip.

We had noticed a nice-looking black shepherd dog around Brown's stable that we had supposed belonged to Brown; but now discovered that it was the property of Wild Bill. The dog seemed to be very intelligent and his owner prized him highly.

After establishing our camp our commander, old Tom, gave his orders, as occasion suggested, and Jack and I promptly executed them.

"One of us must always be in camp," said the old man, "for we don't know what prowler might come along an' steal somethin' if we ain't here to watch things. Now, for to-day, I'll be camp guard while you youngsters do the foraging. First thing, Jack, you an' Peck light out an' hunt up some wood to cook with."

As the camp-stove would be so much handier and more economical of fuel than an open fire, we had taken it out of the wagon and placed it on the ground, with the mess-chest near by--just behind the wagon--and, after pitching the tent, moved the stove inside.

Jack and I skirmished along the creek, and each gathered an armful of wood which we broke up into stove lengths, while Tom busied himself overhauling the mess-chest and cooking utensils.

When we had finished our job Tom gave another order:

"Now, while you're restin' Jack, you take the two mules, an', Peck, you take the two broncos, an' go back up the street to that blacksmith shop just this side of the Mansion House an' git 'em shod all 'round. That'll take about all forenoon. An' while the blacksmith is workin' on 'em one of you can stay there an' the other can go to a meat market an' git a piece of fresh meat an' bring it out to camp right away so that I can put it on to cook for dinner. While you're gettin' the meat, bring a loaf or two of soft bread, too. We've got plenty of hardtack in the wagon, but we'd better use baker's bread while we're in reach of it an' save the hardtack to use on the road, in camps where fuel is scarce."

Leaving Jack at the blacksmith's shop to attend to the shoeing of the team, I carried out Tom's various instructions.

While a kettle of bean soup was boiling Tom was busy rearranging things in the mess-chest and wagon. Fearing that he might neglect the soup and let it scorch, I asked:

"Tom, is there any danger of the beans sticking to the bottom of the camp-kettle and burning?"

"What do you take me for, young fellow?" he retorted indignantly. "Do you s'pose I've been a-cookin' an' eatin' Uncle Sam's beans all these years an' ain't learnt how to cook bean soup without burnin' it? Ef that soup scorches I'll agree to eat the whole mess."

"Of course you know how to cook 'em," I said apologetically, "but I noticed the beans are gettin' soft and thought maybe while you was busy at something else they might get burnt."

"Ain't you never learnt how to keep beans from stickin' to the bottom of the camp-kettle?"

"No, except to keep stirring them," I replied.

"Well, I didn't think you'd a-got through five years of soldierin' on the plains without learnin' how to keep beans from burning. Now, I'll tell you of a trick that's worth a dozen of stirrin' 'em when you've got somethin' else to do besides standin' by the kettle an' watchin' 'em. When your beans begin to git soft just drop two or three metal spoons into the camp-kettle, then go on about your business, an' long as they don't bile dry they won't burn. You savvy the philosophy of it?"

"No, I don't."

"Well, it's just this: the heat keeps the spoons a-dancin' around in the bottom of the kettle, an' that keeps the beans from settlin' an' burning. Savvy? Easy as rollin' off a log when it's explained to you, ain't it?"

After getting back to camp with the mules and broncos newly shod, we had just taken our seats around our mess-box table when who should ride up but Wild Bill. He had heard from Brown of our move and came out to see how we were fixed. As he reined up near us Jack saluted him with:

"Get down, Bill, an' hitch your hoss an' watch me eat."

"Not by a durned sight, Jack; I can do a heap better than that," replied the scout, too familiar with the rough hospitality of the frontier to wait for a more formal invitation; "but if you've got time to watch me eat I'll show you how to do it."

He dismounted, tied his horse to the wagon, turned up a water bucket for a seat, and sat down to dinner with us. "The smell of that bean soup catches me."

As a surprise, when we had nearly finished Tom went to the oven and brought out a couple of nice hot pies.

"What a blessin' it is, sure," said Jack, "to have somethin' to cook an' somebody that knows how to cook it!"

"Well," replied Tom, "it's better than having a surplus of cooks an' no rations--a state of affairs we all know something about."

"I was just a-goin' to remark," added Bill, "that I see you've got a good cook in the outfit, an' that's no small help. I always knew Tom was a first-class soldier, an' now I've found out another of his accomplishments. Boys, I expect to be out to Fort Larned before long, an' if I ever strike your trail out in that neighborhood I'll sure foller it up an' invite myself to take a square meal with you once in a while."

"Well, I'll tell ye right now, Bill, you'll always be welcome," said Jack, while Tom and I added: "Second the motion."

"My special errand out here," said Bill as he unhitched his horse and prepared to mount, "was to tell you that when you get ready to lay in your supplies for the trip I think you can do better to buy 'em of Tom Carney[C] than anywhere else in town. There's where I bought the truck for our trip, an' I found his prices reasonable, an' everything was satisfactory an' packed in good shape. Tom's accommodatin', an' reliable, and an all-round good fellow to trade with."

While standing by his horse Bill's dog had taken post in front of him and by wagging his tail and looking up at his master was trying to attract his notice, seeing which the scout stooped down and began talking to his canine friend and patting him affectionately, which seemed to put the dog in an ecstasy of delight.

"Bill," said Tom, "I've been wondering ef we couldn't manage some way to beat you out of that dog. Don't you want to git rid of him?"

"No, Tom," replied the scout, "money wouldn't buy that dog. But there's been two or three attempts made to steal him from me since I've been here in town--I come pretty nigh having to kill a feller about him just the other day--an', seeing as he's taken such a shine to you fellers, I was thinkin' of gettin' you to take him along with you out to Larned an' leave him with somebody there to keep for me till I come out; or maybe you'd keep him with your outfit."

"Just the thing!" exclaimed Jack. "We'll take him along, all right, an' we won't leave him at Fort Larned, either--we'll keep him till you call for him."

"Well, boys, I b'lieve he'll be useful to you, for he's a shepherd an' takes to minding stock naturally, an' he's a good all-round watch-dog--one of the smartest I ever saw. I call him 'Found,' 'cause I found him when he seemed to be lost. You'll have to keep him tied up for a few days when you leave here; after that, I think, he'll stick to you, 'cause he's been used to lookin' after them mules an' ponies all summer. But, mind you, now, I ain't a-givin' him to you--only lendin' him."

"All right, Bill; he's your dog," said Tom, "an' we'll take good care of him till you want him." Thus Found became one of us.

That afternoon Tom began the work of estimating the supplies that we would need for our winter's trip, endeavoring to calculate the quantity of each item of the provisions and from that the weight that we would have to haul in our wagon. As an old soldier, he made his figures on the basis of rations--one man's allowance of each article of food for one day. He said:

"We'll make our estimate at about the rate of government rations, but, as we don't have to restrict ourselves exactly to Uncle Sam's allowance we'll allow a margin in some things to suit our own notions."

Tom calculated that about four months' rations for three men ought to be enough to carry us from the middle of October to the middle of February, and he told me to make my requisition for four hundred rations of each article and set down the number of pounds' weight of each as I went along.

"Of breadstuffs," he said, "we ought to take about three fourths flour--three hundred pounds--and one fourth hardtack--one hundred pounds. That'll make four hundred pounds of freight. Then, as an extra, a sack of corn-meal--fifty pounds.

"As we'll be able to kill plenty of wild meat, two hundred rations of bacon will be enough. At three fourths of a pound to the ration, that will be one hundred and fifty pounds."

So he went through the list of beans, rice, hominy, coffee, tea, and sugar, with vinegar, salt, pepper, yeast-powder, together with two hundred pounds of potatoes and one hundred pounds of onions. With some dried fruit and soap the total weight came to one thousand five hundred and forty-one pounds, to which he added one thousand pounds of corn, as feed for the animals during the worst weather. He purposed to take also a scythe and hay-fork and, as soon as we got into camp, to cut hay and make a stack as added provision against bad weather. These things, together with all the camp equipment to be carried, would make a load of not far from three thousand pounds for the animals.

To this load I suggested that it would be a good idea to add some interesting books to read at night, and I told him that I purposed to subscribe for some weekly papers which would give the news of current events.

Wild Bill's skill in plains travel was evident in many things about the outfit we had bought. He had fastened straps on the outside of the wagon-box to carry the tent-pole, tripod, and stovepipe, and on the opposite side to hold the axe, pick, and shovel, so that when needed on the road or in camp the tools would be at hand.

On the plains one must be prepared to encounter strong winds at any and all times, and often violent storms, and on this account we commended Bill's judgment in having selected a Sibley instead of a wall tent; for the Sibley is in many respects a most serviceable tent.

It is conical in shape, like the Indian lodge, but in other respects it is far superior to the red man's habitation. It requires but a single short pole which rests on an iron tripod, by pushing together or spreading apart the feet of which the canvas is easily stretched tight or slackened. The aperture at the top for the escape of smoke is provided with a canvas cap which can be shifted so as to keep its back to the wind, thus insuring a clear exit for the smoke. Two opposite doors secure at least one entrance and exit away from the wind. Its advantages over the wall-tent for withstanding stormy weather and for comfort and convenience are generally admitted by all old campers.

The inventor of this most excellent tent was a private soldier in the Second Dragoons, whom I often saw at Fort Bridger, Utah, in '58, but whose name I have forgotten.

The next day we drove down-town and bought our supplies and on returning to camp loaded the wagon for the trip to the plains, as Tom directed.

"Put the heaviest truck, such as the sacks of corn and flour, in the bottom an' well toward the forward end," said he, "an' such things as the mess box an' stove--that we'll be using a good deal on the road--in the hind end, where they'll be handy to git out of the wagon. The tent an' our bundles of bedding can go on top. The camp-stools, buckets, an' camp-kettles can be tied on outside. An', mind you, everything must be stowed away snug or we won't be able to get our truck all on the wagon."

Stripping the wagon-sheets off the bows, we packed the wagon to the best advantage, leaving at the hind end a vacant space to receive the mess-chest and stove. Replacing the sheets, we tied them down snugly to the wagon-box, all around, to be prepared for rainy weather.

Tom, who once had served as hospital steward, had learned something of the use of medicines, and during our stay in Leavenworth he fitted up a small medicine-chest and stocked it with such remedies as he knew how to use, to be prepared for emergencies.

"You may not need 'em very often," he remarked; "you may never need 'em; but, as Wild Bill says of his pistols, when you do need 'em you'll need 'em bad."

As we were to pull out in the morning, Wild Bill rode out to our camp that evening to take supper with us. The evening was pleasantly passed with music from Jack's fiddle, singing by all hands, and wound up by a jig danced by Wild Bill which astonished and delighted us all.

As Wild Bill was mounting his horse to return to town, Tom took the precaution to chain the dog, Found, to a wheel of the wagon, to prevent him from following his master.

Our commander, old Tom, had given orders for an early start next morning, and before daylight his call, "Turn out, men!" routed us out of our blankets. Tom got breakfast, while Jack and I fed the team and then groomed and harnessed them while they ate.

We intended to feed them well on grain as long as we were in the settlements, where it was plenty and cheap; but after getting beyond Council Grove there would be no more settlements, and consequently no grain to be bought along the road, and, as the grain we were hauling would be needed later to carry our animals through the cold of winter, they would have to depend on the grass after leaving the settlements.

Daylight was upon us when we had finished eating, and, all hands turning to, the dishes were soon washed and packed away, the wagon loaded, the team hitched up, the fire put out, and we were off.

Our team was fat, frisky, and well rested, and walked away with its load with ease; but, following our soldier training in starting out for a long trip, we made short, easy drives for the first few days, gradually increasing them till we reached the maximum--about twenty-five miles a day.

Shortly after leaving Leavenworth we met our old friends the bull-whackers, with whom we had made the first part of our trip on starting from Fort Wise. They were just getting in with their train, as dirty and jolly as ever. We were gratified to realize that we had gained so much time and avoided so much dirt by transferring to the mule train at the Santa Fé crossing of the Arkansas River.

Later we met more bull trains and other freighting outfits coming in but found few going west. At this season most people were inclined to seek the friendly shelter and comforts of the settlements rather than to brave the inclemencies and dangers of the bleak plains.

Among the travellers whom we met coming in was an occasional outfit of "busted Pike's Peakers," as unfortunate and discouraged miners returning from the Pike's Peak gold region were called. Most of these gave doleful accounts of life and prospects in the Colorado mines.

For a few days after leaving Leavenworth we kept the dog, Found, tied up, lest he should go back to his master; but we were all kind to him, and he showed no inclination to quit our company, and when we turned him loose again he contentedly remained with our outfit.

We found the roads fine and the weather real Indian summer; days hazy, warm, and pleasant, nights cool, and mornings frosty, as is usual on the plains at this the most pleasant time of the year.

While in the settlements we indulged in such luxuries as milk, butter, eggs, and so forth, whenever they were to be bought, and we killed plenty of prairie-chickens with our shotgun.

These prairie-chickens were very numerous in the Kansas settlements, occurring in such multitudes that they were pests to the farmers, eating great quantities of grain. They haunted the settled country or grain-producing parts but were seldom found far out on the plains, though while in the service I saw a few as far west as the Big Bend of the Arkansas.

In the army the Sibley tent was calculated to hold twelve to sixteen men--crowded pretty close together--but in our Sibley, with only the three occupants, there was room for stove, mess-chest, camp-stools, or anything else we might bring inside. Found always made his bed under the wagon, where he could keep watch over the animals and act as general camp guard.

In order to favor our team we made two drives a day, stopping for an hour or so at noon to turn the animals out on the grass, while we made coffee and ate some cold meat and bread. On our afternoon drive, as night approached, we selected a convenient place and camped, turning out the team--except the flea-bitten gray mare, which we always picketed as an anchor to the rest. After supper, sprawled on our beds in the tent, we talked and spun yarns.

Tom having served three enlistments--fifteen years--and Jack two, while I had only five years' service as a soldier to my credit, I was considered a raw recruit and usually listened while they talked. When in a musical mood, Jack got out his fiddle and played and sang.

We seldom lit a candle at night, for we had only one box of candles and knew that before us were many long winter evenings when lights would be more needed than now. We had found, rolled up in the tent, an infantry bayonet--the best kind of a camp candlestick. When we had occasion to light a candle we appreciated its convenience.

Since we first came from the plains into the Kansas settlements we had heard much said about jayhawkers. The term jayhawking as used then was a modified expression for theft or robbery, but was applied more particularly to the depredations of gangs of armed and mounted ruffians, who, taking advantage of the turbulent condition of affairs resulting from the war--the civil law being impotent or altogether lacking in many parts of the scattering settlements of Kansas--roamed at will through the country, hovering especially along main thoroughfares and helping themselves to other people's property. Sometimes they professed to be volunteer soldiers or government agents sent out to gather in good horses, mules, or other property for the use of Uncle Sam, giving bogus receipts for what they took and saying that these receipts would be honored and paid on their presentation to any government quartermaster--which, of course, was pure fiction.

Where they failed to get what they wanted by other methods they did not hesitate to use violence, even to killing those who resisted their demands.

Such were the Kansas jayhawkers of those times, whom we had hoped to escape meeting; but we had talked much of the possibilities and probabilities of such an encounter and had decided on certain plans of action to frustrate the probable movements of any jayhawkers whom we might meet. We did not propose to be robbed and stood ready to put up a strong bluff and, if necessary, to fight to defend our property. In view of a possible fight, arms were to be kept in order and ammunition handy.

We had nearly reached Council Grove without encountering any jayhawkers and had begun to flatter ourselves that we were going to slip through the settlements without having trouble with them. At one or two places along the road, however, we had heard that a party of jayhawkers had lately been seen on the route ahead of us, and we had been cautioned to look out for them.