Beadle's Half Dime Library No. 376 — page 2: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

2 California Joe’s First Trail. — stan | and fried hominy, in the proud consciousness that | we jine carryvans and git over the graound to- | Califorma does First Trail A Story of the Destroying Angels, BY COL. THOMAS HOYER MONSTERY, Champion-at-arms of the two Americas, MEMBER OF THE PIONEER CLUB OF FRISCO, AND AUTHOR OF ‘* THE DEMON DUELIST,”’ ETC. CHAPTER I. THE YOUNG ROVER. Ovr on the green plains of the boundless West, before all mystery had parted from them; ere the scream of the locomotive had forever banished the buffalo and antelope, a small train of wagons was winding its way, following the great Overland Trail —highway for all the restless spirits of the Ameri- can Union, during the gold fever of the early days of California, Just such trains were passing all the time, that year and several years before and after, for the fever was at its hight, and San Francisco was in the process of development from a village of two or three hundred people toa city of twenty thousand inhabitants, in the space of three years or less. When first those trains began to traverse the great plains they were par ape to go in large bodies for protection from the numerous Indians; but, by the time the fever had lasted a year or so, the number of emigrants had so increased, and the Government had sent in so many troops that it was common for partie: of three or four wagons, some- times even single vehicles, to cross the plains with safety in most parts, other localities being danger- ous and only to be traversed by large caravans which accumulated at the great halting-places, till enough fighting-men had been gathered to make the transit safe. On the banks of the Kansas, close to the border town of Independence, Missouri, and within range of the scouting parties from Fort Leavenworth, the perils of the passage had not yet become apparent, and the little caravan with which we have to do only numbered four wagons and two families, which counted five able-bodied men for defenders of sev- eral women and children. Around them spread the waving verdure of the lower plains, not as yet replaced by the short * buf- falo-grass *’ of the arid belt. The current of the river slowly wound its way along, and, as the sun sunk toward the west, the little train came to a halt by a place where the de- scent was practicable, where the horses were un- hitched and turned out to feed, while the women of the agg set to work to cook supper, and the men itched the tents in which they were to sleep. ‘hese men were all of the stamp of pioneers, that made California a land of such untiring energy, in its early history. The oldest was a stout, farmer-looking person, about fifty, and it was easy to see that three of the other men were his sons, from the family likeness; while the fifth member of the party was as undoubt- edly a stranger by blood to the rest, if not of an- other race altogether. The Scott family owned three of the wagons of the little caravan, to which the other man, whose name was Gabelle, bad pernee himself for protection —* mutual” he called it. In reality the protection was all one-sided. for Gabelle was a nervous French- man from New Orleans, who had never fired a rifle in his life before he came on the plains, while the Scotts, who were Tennesseeans, were all hunters of more or less fame in their native county, and pre- pared to take care of themselves, in any ordinary Cnereaney: ; ay Gabelle had brought with him his wife and a num- they were ever so much better than their neigh- ors, Jim Scott, the eldest son of the house, was still crunching the last morsel of his supper, and look- = ue over the prairie to the east, when he ejacu- ated: ‘*By gosh, dad, thar comes a stranger, jest too late fur grub.” Old Scott turned his head to see what his son Meant; when he saw the figure of a man on a lean, raw-boned mule, coming over a swell at a little dis- tance, and said comfortingly: “ Waal, boy, the pork ain’t all gone yet, and ‘tain’t much trouble to fry a little more. The stranger’s welcome, I reckon. Tennessee ain’t goin’ back ona stranger, ef he’s honest, and this ’un looks, as fur as I kin see, as if he was a white man, and hungry.”’ Tom Scott, the second son, rose as the stranger rode in, and advanced to the edge of the little en- campment, with the hospitable shout, from lungs of leather: * Helloa, stranger, git off yer critter, and h’ist in some grub.” The stranger, now that he was near enough to be inspected, turned out to be a uall, raw-boned boy not much over twenty, of much the same make as the mule he bestrode, with a long face, set in a serious, rather owlish expression, that agreed well with his dress, to show him one who had not min- gled much in any society save that of the frontier. He was dressed in a suitof blue ** Kentucky Jean,” and wore an old straw hat, of ** plantation ” variety, while his rough cow-hide boots were thrust into the pair of old rusty stirrups that looked as if they had come down from Noah’s Ark, or something equally ancient. He bore across the pommel of his low sacdle. of the common “ citizen’s’’ kind, an old rifle, long and heavy in the barrel, with a bore the size of a pea, while his leathern belt was ornamented with the haft of a huge butcher-knife, in a sheath, that looked as if it had seen a good deal of service. Such was his appearance and equipment, and something in both was so familiar to the men at the fire, that Tom Scott added, as he shook hands warmly with the young stranger: “Seems to me you come from aour parts, stran- er. My name’s Scott, from Tennessee.”’ ** And I was raised in Lincoln caounty, Kaintuck; last hailin’ from Cass caounty, Missourer,’’ was the reply, with a grin that altered the whole expression of the face of the young stranger. ‘‘ What have ye got in the pot, boys?” He was dismounting from his horse as he spoke, and, a few moments later, was shaking hands vigorously with the men of the party, while the good wife of Jim Scott, who had been cutting a new slice of pork, while the men were greeting the new- comer, called out: ‘‘ Git ready in a minit, stranger. Nothen’ but hog and hominy; but ye’re welcome to that.,”’ The young man laughed good-naturedly as he re- lied: ‘*Reckin I kin struggle along on it, missis. Got anything in the jug, fellers?” The hint seemed to be understood; for old Scott was already hauling out, from the back of one of the wagons, a stone jug of familiar appearance,, and he brought it to the young man, with the curt salutation: ‘‘ Help yerself, stranger, and drink hearty.” Then, at a signal from the old man, the whole party turned their backs at once, and seemed to be engaged in staring across the Neosho, while the oung stranger put the bottle up to his mouth, and 1eld it suspended there, for the space of some half- minute, during which gurgling sounds. proceeded therefrom, when he uttered a long sigh of satisfac- tion, breathed hard several times, and set down the Jug, with the remark: oo Apple-jack, and prime, too, Mister, that ‘ere’s jest the real thing, and no mistake.”’ i gether, sosh’ble like? Me and you cums from the same place,as might be—fur thar ain’t mueh choose atween Missourer, Kaintuck and dle nessee—and we mou’t as well go the gether.” California Joe cast a scrutinizing look round t wagons, and what he saw there seemed to Pp him, for he said at once: . Waal, mister, ef you’re agreeable, and the of the boys, I ain’t the man to growl. ILknow Wh I’m well off, and I don’t want to move aout of th craowd,”’ So it was settled at once, and California Joe duly installed a member of the caravan, just a8 J Scott cried out: ‘*Gosh darn it all, hyar comes another map! Ef this goes on, dad, we'll git an army arter awhile.” The cause of his speech was the approach of an- other stranger, who was coming up on foot, | a very small mule behind him. CHAPTER II. OLD SIMPLICITY. THE new-comer Was as great a contrast to Cali fornia Joe in appearance as could well be imagined# The Kentuckian was six feet two in his stockings with the frame of a young Hercules; the other m was of medium Light and slenderly built, to ¢ seeming. California Joe had the regular careless, dare- devil look of the Western man, who drinks Bite d and fights as freely, while the stranger was as mee as Moses in his expression of face. He wore his hair long and flowing, over his shoul- ders, where it hung like skeins of flax, in color and straightness, while his clean-shaven face was as open and guileless as that of a child, and his mild blue eyes seemed as if they had never flashed in anger in the life of their owner. His dress was as singular in that locality as the meekness of his face, for he wore a suit of black broadcloth, of the regular ministerial cut, with a ‘* shad-belly ’? coat, a white choker round his neck; the uniform recognized all over the Union at that time as the habiliment of a preacher or exhorter of the Methodist persuasion. Of weapons for his protection he seemed to be guiltless: for his only support in that line was a big umbrella, of the bulgiest kind, which he used as a walking-staff as he came toward the camp, leading behind him the mule. This mule, of itself, had nothing remarkable about it, save the smallness of its size and the thickness of its legs. It trudged along under the load it was car- rying as if it did not mind it in the least, and appear ed to be on the best terms with the man who wa leading it, for it frequently rubbed its head against his arm, and tried to get at his side pockeis, as if accustomed to be fed thence and otherwise petted. This man seemed, as near as one could make out from his light hair and shaven face, to be atout forty years old. He came ve to the camp, where all, men_and women, stared at him stupidly. and taking off his broad-brimmed hat, said with a benevolent smile: ‘Friends all, the Lord be with ye. Can a ‘simple man and guileless make his camp with ye, for pro- tection from the ravening beasts and the savage men of the plain, that devour and spare not?” The words he used, and the tone in which he spoke were those which had often been heard by the men he addressed, for the itinerant Methodist cir- cuit-rider was quite a common character in those days; but there was also something in both that froze them up. for the hospitality which they had shown to California Joe vanished entirely. The Scotts kept their seats by the fire, and old Scott looked over his shoulder at the new-comer to say: ‘The preerie’s wide enough, stranger. Ye kin go inter camp whar yé like, I s’pose.” Then, as the stranger’s face fell slightly, as if he . ~ a ~ 4 — i ti ee - ber of little re boys, all with black hair and eyes, é . : and a capacity to chatter French and English indif- Then, and not til] then, the old farmer turned | had expected a courteous reception, Scott added: . ferently, born of the habit of speaking one language | round to say: i ‘*Don’t tie that mule too near them of mine, or in the family and another to strangers. Their ‘“Take another horn. *Twon’t hurt ye. mebbe he'll have trouble, They kin kick bad, and mother was a stout woman, with a taste for smok- The other smiled as he answered: I don’t want to see ye hurted. ing pipes and chewing snuff, which had given her a ‘‘Thankee, mister; but it ain’t the thing till I’ve A faint smile crossed the benevolent features of cadaverous aspect, and she affected flannel short | h’isted in some grub, Any one could see you-’uns | the strange man in black, and he said: 4 gowns and striped petticoats, that were washed | is from Tennessee. Haow long hev ye b’en on the “Thanks, friend; but little Charity can take care only when necessity compelled, while the Scott girls | road?” of herself, I guess, I will not put you to any more and their mother, having come of New England *’Baout a month, sence we left the old home- | inconvenience than I can hem | stock originally, had preserved the habits of their | stead,’’ the farmer replied, with a slight sigh. So saying, he led the sma mule away from the | ancestry and always looked neat and clean. ‘°'Tain’t easy to do, stranger; but when the stuns | immediate vicinity of the camp, and proceeded to | As the sun set, the two parties sat down to sup- | gits the best of the corn, and the sharks gits thar | unload her, in a way that showed him to be by no er at their respective fires, and the difference in | claws on the piace, what’s done can’t be helped; and | means unused to camping out, ; are was evident at a glance. The Tennesseeans | the best way is to git up and git.” He loosed the girth of the pack-saddle and lifted had nothing but the traditional ‘‘ hog and hominy,” Then he added: it off the little mule’s back, load and all, depositin while the Creoles had concocted a savory stew out ‘‘ And haow long hey you b’en on the trail?” the whole apparatus on the ss; led the oe ja of the carcasses of several prairie dogs or marmots, ‘*Sence yesterday mornin’,’”’ the young man re- | down to the river to drink, and then staked her out which the father of the family, who was practicing | plied, with a smile that showed how jolly he could | in a place where the grass was thick and eure _ shooting all the while in the hope of becoming an | look on occasion. ‘Got tied up to the nicest galin | but at a distance from the other animals of the cara, ' expert, had managed to knock down at their holes, | aour parts lass month, and had to do suthin’, ye | van, when she fell to work with an appetite tha¢ as they basked in the sun. know. Dad allowed as haow he’d h’ard a right | showed her to be in good condition for & journey, Nothing coming amiss to Pierre Gabelle in the | smart sight abaout this Californy, and the old wo- Then he opened his pack, and p ay there. way of eating, he had taken the prairie dogs, | man she allowed that thar warn’t much to hope fur | from a fryingpat and stores of all kinds, wlth several rattlesnakes, which he had killed in the | tohum. So I took the ole mule and lit aout; and | which he proceeded to make his solitary camp ata same holes, along with one of the queer little owls | hyar I be, stranger.” little distance from the rest. He did not even come ‘ ‘‘And what mou’t yer name be?” asked the far-/ near their fire to borrow coals, but set himself Ar. which frequent the curious fraternity, and had made of all a stew which certainly possessed a most appetizing savor, as it simmered away in the pot, in the process of warming-up, which proces? the supper; that supper being a remnant from the pre- vious halt. Snake, owl and prairie dog, together, made a stew at which the Scotts turned up their noses, with all the prejudice of the born Yankee and western man at anything to which his fathers have not been accustomed; but the little Gabelles ate heartily at their own fire, while the Scotts devoured their pork mer, as he accompanied the other toward the fire, where the hissing of the pan showed that the pork was nearly done. og young man hesitated for a moment, and then said: ‘‘Waal, stranger, I won’t lie. My name ain’t what it used ter be; but I’m baound to git to Californy or bu’st. My name’s Californy Joe, hit or miss; and thar’s whar I live.”’ ‘* Bully for vou, Californy Joe,” responded Scott, amicably. “Ef you want to git thar, why shedn’t SSS ——— ee Eee atiently to pick up dry sticks in the bushes that fringed the bank of the river, and made his fire for himself. The Scotts watched him with @ Sense that they had been churlish in their reception, and the young Kentuckian who had joined them Colored slightly ag he looked at the quiet, meek man, who was ma ng his camp 80 inoffensively, as if he had been a pari unworthy to associate with the rest, At last California Joe said to Tom Scott; ‘*Seems like a simple ole feller, Wonder ef he comicbooks