Beadle's Half Dime Library No. 376 — page 5: what you’re looking at

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

* Friend, there is not a path in these plains, a pass in the mountains that 1 have not traversed till I know every blade of grass,”’ The Scott boys gazed on him with more awe than before as he spoke, and Jim Scott asked: ‘Why, who in thunder air you then?” The deacon raised his head, and a proud look illumined his face es he answered: “What I am thou knowest not now; but thou shalt know hereafter, Enough that I alone can lead ye through the perils of the way. Wil ye trust me, or shall I go? I can take my own path as [ list, wherever the wild Indian roveth, for he dare not lift his hand against me, The hand of the Lord is a me and my people, and we are safe in the den of ons.”’ Joe and the Tennesseeans stared at this mysteri- ous personage as he spoke, with something of fear; but the emotion faded away as the old man said, ge Mk “We've got to trust ye, stranger; fur ye’ve show- ed us ye kin whip all creation ef ye please, Take us whar ye will.”’ A smile of satisfaction illumined the pale face of Deacon Simplicity, and he made the bandages for the old man’s ribs, in a deft way, that showed he knew a good deal of surgery. Then the party went into camp for the afternoon, CHAPTER V, THE MIDDLE PARK. Two months after the time that the little caravan of the Scotts and Gabelles went into camp by the borders of the Kansas river, the same wagons were in the midst of the mountain ranges of the Sierra Madre, in the vast wilderness that now forms the State of Colorado, passing through the * Middle Park,” and a long way beyond the site of the pre- sent city of Denver. In front of the caravan rode California Joe, on his faithful mule; his long Kentucky rifle on the pom- mel of the saddle in front of him. There was something in his whole air, as he rodo along, which showed that he had changed consider- ably, since the day when he first came upon the lains, a green boy, with no knowledge of the life fore him, save that common to any man, who has been a hunter. There was a self-reliant look on his face; a dark bronzed bue on his cheek, that told of a man who has been in the habit of taking care of himseif; and his glance traveled over the mountains round him, with the assured glance of one who knows where he is, spite of the strangeness of the scenery. The wagons behind him were of the same rickety appearance they had when they first halted by the nsas; and the little Gabelles looked about as dirty as they had done then. The only change in the baba rg of the party was that there were sev- eral Indian ponies or bronchos, ‘which they had picked up from vagabond tribes on the way, as they traversed the trail to the mountains, California Joe was alone, in advance of the ex- pedition, his eye roving over the landscape, and he was talking to himself, a habit he had grown into, in the solitude of the wilderness, being naturally very loquacious and ready to talk to himself, rather than have no listener, ** Joe,” he was saying, ‘seems to me that if your ole dad seen you, now. he’d kinder think you was on a bad trail. Hyar we be, two months on the road, and not half-way thar, while the deacon wants us to goto another place altogether. I dunno what to think of it. He seems to know his biz, or he would- n’t ha’ brung us all the way he has, and nary an In- jun teched us; but thar’s suthin’ abaout that feller, that I’m gittin’ to kinder mistrust. He talks too much religion fur a man that lives among Injuns, and he knows too much abaout thar ways.” The young hunter cast his eyes round him, on the great valley in which he was. A lovely expanso of rolling grass, interspersed with clumps of noble trees, was surrounded, at a distance of nearly & hundred miles, by the lofty, snow-clad peaks of the great Sierra, which resem- bled a fortification thrown round the Park, to pro- tect it from outside foes. It had been a paradise for the Indian hunters but a few years before, but the great march of emigra- tion and the establishment of forts in the vicinity had rendered it comparatively safe for the transit of large caravans of wagons, if accompanied by a force of at least two hundred men. Otherwise, it was thought that a party was ge to be snapped up by some roving Ran of Arapahoes or Cheyennes, who had their hunting-grounds in the Park from time immemorial, and regarded the white man with extreme jealousy, Yet into this paradise of game and Indians, the little group of three wagons, with but seven men to defend it, including the mysterious deacon, had netrated, without seeing an Indian so far; and balifornia Joe was acting as guide to the caravan, though he had never been in the Park in all his life before—taking for his course a series of landmarks, which had been impressed on his rind by Simplici- ty the day before, when the strange being had left him, to go, as he said, ‘on a pilgrimage which he could not explain. He had taken the small mule and ridden away in a deep wood, promising to return before morning, for it was night when he started. and had not yet come back; but he had told Joe that. in case he was detained by something he could not explain there would be no difficulty in ih a ey trail that was to lead to the land of gold by a short track, which he, the deacon, would guarantee as absolutely safe. Now the sun was getting low, on the second day, ‘and still inere was no sign of Simplicity Fox. As Joe thought of all the difficulties that surrounded California Joe’s First Trail. ee ae eee _-- him, and the people who were with him, a thrill of something very like fear came over him, for he re- membered that they were alone in the Park, a hun- dred miles from the nearest fort, and that there were six women in the party. The regular trail of the emigrants to California lay considerably to the south of the route the dea- con had persuaded them to take, though of this the ignorant Tennesseeans had not been aware; for none of ths party, save Joe, had any idea of readin or writing, and the sight of a map was a mystery o ws hag rhy to them, heir only means of path that they had left the great trail was the fact that they missed the broad plain marks of the wheels that had made the thoroughfare of the emigrant trains a white road, like a ‘“‘pike’’ in the Eastern States, save for its roughness. But where they were none knew, and they were the more in the pones of the deacon in that they were unacquainted with the use of the compass and had never boen in that part of the plains before, It was no wonder, therefore, that Joe felt decided- ly uneasy, as he scanned tho Park before him, which looked as if it had never been trodden by the soot of man, and then glanced back at the wagons and the ice of the girls, peeping out from the curtains in ront. The young hunter was, in fact, the only one of the a a who was capable of appreciating the danger hey were in; for he was the only one who could read and write, after a fashion, and he had brought with him, when he started from his home in Mis- souri, a en of the great trail, over which he pored in secret, when he could get a chance, unobserved by any one else. Had he been asked why he did this, and carecaly. why he took care that the deacon should not cate him at his studies, he would have found the answer hard to give. It was only since they had been in sight of the mountains, that he had begun to mis- trust the deacon in any manner, and he had been trying to puzzle out for himself the plate where he was, wih a fair measure of success, since he had come among the peaks that were easily recognizable and laid down in the map. The deacon had told him, a day or two before, that a certain lofty, snow-capped mountain, they had passed as they entered the Park was Long’s Peak, and Joe had found that on his rude map, and was doing his best to make out where he was, by looking at it as he rode oe He had no idea of such a thing as scales, and his notions of distance, as represented on paper, were decidedly vague; but he saw that they were out of the regular trail, fol- lowed by the greater part of the emigrants on their way to the land of gold, and wondered where the trail they were following could lead them. On his map he found only the white blotch which marks an unexplored region with the words ** Greet Desert’ over it, and another blotch, shaped like a gigantic leech, with part of the outline lost in dots, which bore the inscription: ‘* Great Salt Lake, dis. 1843.” In common with everybody, however ignorant, in the United States, at that time Joe had heard of the Great Salt Lake as the center of a desert of sand, where no human beings could live; but there were rumors that the great Mormon Exodus, which had started from Nauvoo three years before, had one in that direction, and that the pilgrims had alted there, as their refuge from persecution. Joe had but a vague idea of the Mormons, save that common to the western men at the time, that they were a set of wicked wretches, who would kill any one who came in their way, and stick at noth- ing to get women into their community. But the way they were going did not promise to lead anywhere near the lake of which he had heard such miraculous accounts, and poor Joe was puzzled what to make of the whole thing. As he rode along, he was looking out for a place to camp, and when the sun was within about an hour of setting, he spied just the place he had been searching for, all the afternoon, a grove of trees that would afford ample shade, by the margin of a little babbling brook, bordered with flowers, while the presence of deer, in large quantities, and almost as tame as cattle, was shown at every turn of the way. The young hunter took his ccurse thither, and turned his mule loose, while he set up the end of a white towel, on a pole by the tree, to indicate to the wagons, when the drivers should get there, that he had chosen a spot for camp. Then he went quietly off, through the trees, to stalk a deer for supper, and had almost got within nshot of a herd of three or four, when he noticed he animals start, lift their heads from the grass with a frightened air, and bound away for severa ards, when they stood still, staring at something hat they could see from where they were, but which was still invisible to Joe, They did not seem to be alarmed so much as startled, and not long after Joe saw the cause of their start, in the figure of a man, coming forward from another grove of trees, mounted on a small mule, in which he recognized Charity. It was Deacon Sine icity Fox, and he looked the same as ever, in his black suit, riding at a foot-pace, with his legs almost touching the groun either side of the small mule. CHAPTER VI. THE DEACON SPEAKS OUT, As soon as the young hunter saw the deacon, he drew a long breath of satisfaction; for he had been very uneasy at the absence of their reverend guide; and the sight dispelled all these thoughts in an in- stant. 5 The deacon looked the same as ever, and rode on straight toward the tree, in front of which Joe had erected his white flag. He cast a glance up the valley, where the white tilts of the old-fashioned Conestoga wagons were plainly to be seen and turned the mule that way, as if to take a better view. The young bunter, on his part, did not stir from his concealment, partly be- cause he did not want to show himself to the deer, partly because he had a sudden notion to find wiat he deacon would do, when he was alone. The strange man looked up the valley for a li'tlo space, and then rode to the tree where Joe’s mule was feeding, where he unsaddled his own beast and lay down under the tree, as if to wait for the com- ing up of the wagons, he deer, that had run to one side, out of his way, now came closer, as if in curiosity; and before long, Joesaw that one of them was within gunshot, from his own position. Leveling old Brownie, he pulled the trigger, and the deer dropped in its tracks. Peering through the smoke at the deacon, whom he expected to see start at the report of the gun, Joe saw that he had not sl ifted his position in the slightest; and muttering, *‘ Well, he 7s a cool cuss,” the young hunter reloaded his piece and stepped out of his concealment, advancing toward the deer. It lay within fifty feet of the deacon, while the other animals had run off frightened at the sound of the yess Joe showed himself boldly and walked up to the deer, when he was saluted by the voice of Simpli- city, saying in the most commonplace way: “That was agood shot, friend Joseph; butif I had not known thou wert there, thou couldst not have had it.”’ ‘Why not?” asked Joe. ‘Because they would have run up the valley, had I startled them. But the deer of this vale know me well, and fear me not.”’ Joe was puzzled again at the familiarity this sin- gular man displayed with the scenery and charac- teristics of the wilderness, ‘“Why, deacon,”’ he said, “ye talk as if ye knew ’em all. I’ve b’en kinder thinkin’ whether we've come on the right track arter all, sence we've fot inter this bh ind ah Deacon Simplicity cast a quick glance at him from under his eyelashes, with his blue eyes half-shut, that showed how sly he covld look on occasion, a glance very different from the usual wide-open stare of his clear orbs, Then he said quietly: ‘Friend Joseph, there is but one thing to do in the wilderness, and that is to trust to thy guide, Thou art young yet, and hast thy wax to make; but already I can trust thee alone to take a train a day’s Sess I went away from thee on purpose to test thee, and thou hast done well. In a little while I may go away agaiu fora longer time ard before thou gettest to the Jand of gold, thou wilt be a plainsman and mountain-man, as well as the best of them.” Joe was flattcred by the words of the deacon, and he said, earnestly: ‘*Deacon, ef I thought I c’u’d ever make a good guide, and be able to live on the perarer, the same as them fellers they tell abaout that follered Kit Carson, I’d feel I were all hunk, But ye don’t think I could do it, do ye?”’ ‘*Not only dol think it; but I know it, friend Joe, and this I tell ye, that if thou wilt be content to trust thyself to my guidance entirely and go after the marks that I shall teil thee now, I am content to go away again, and trust thee to take the train along for another week,”’ Joe colored with pleasure. ‘Would ye, reelly, deacon?” ‘‘T would. I have business that I cannot explain that will take me away; but that need not make any difference to thee. Darest thou take the wagons on alone fora week more without me to guide thee?”’ Joe hesitated, ‘It’s kinder resky, deacon, ain’tit? Inever were te mountains afore, and mov’t make a mis- take, ‘*T will give thee as plain directions as I did when IT left thee before. Canst thou follow them as thou diijst then? Thou hast come to the very place that I laid out for the camp of to-day.”’ ** Reckin I kin, deacon.” The deacon brightened up at once, for he had been looking thoughtful and depressed when Joo first saw him. : The wagons were still some mile and a half from where they were sitting by the tree, and their ap- proach was slow and tedious, forthe mules were tired after the long trip. The deacon pointed to the lofty cone of Long’s Peak, and began to give bis directions, “Thou wilt keep that peak behind thee, as far as thou canst see it, till thou comest to a pass in tho mountains, on the further side of this Park. Thou wilt know the pass when thou comest toit, by a mountain, cleft in twain like the saddle of a pony, on the right hand, and the way lies ee through that pass. When thou hast traversed that, thou wilt come to a lofty plain, with the tops of the hills all round it, save to the west, and thy courso will be due west, In the morning thou wilt have the sun on thy back, and in the evening it will shine on thy face. hen thou startest in the morning, be careful to take some objects before thee, in a line, in the direction thou wouldst go, and keep them in sight all day. If it comes to thee to travel at night, then take the north star for thy guide, and keep it on thy right hand as thou goest. On the straight trail thou wilt come to a Sill which bas fords at most places, The wagons Wil JNA Gboo So “com