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A WAIF OF THE PLAINS.

[Copyrighted, ]

By Bret Harti;, Author of 'The Argonauts,' 'The Luck of Roaring Camp,'' Creasy,' etc,

CHAPTER I,

A lorjg level of dull grey that further away became a faint blue, with here aud there darker patches that looked like water. At times an open space, blackened and burnt in an irregular circle, with a shred of newspaper, an old rag or broken can lying in the ashes. Beyond these always a low dark line that seemed to sink into the ground at night and ro9e again in the morning with the first light, but never otherwise changed its height and distance. A sense of always moving with some indefinite purpose, but of always returning at night to the same place—with the same surroundings, the same people, the same bedclothes,' and the same awful black canopy dropped down from above. A chalky taste of dust on the mouth and lips, a gritty sense of earth on the fingers, and an all-pervading heat and smell of cattle. This was the "Great Plains" as they seemed to two children from the hooded depth of an emigrant waggon above the swaying heads of toiling oxen in the summer of 1352.

It had appeared so to them for two weeks —always the same, and always without the least sense to them of wonder or monotony. When they viewed it from the road, walking basilic the waggon, there was only the team itself added to the unvarying picture. One of the waggons bore on its canvas hood the inscription, in large black letters, "Off to California!" on the other, "Root, Hog, or Dif." But neither of them awoke in the minds of l,ho children the faintest idea of playfulness or jocularity. Perhaps it was diliisul!; to connect the serious men, who occasionally walked beside them and seemed to grow more taciturn and depressed as the day wore on, with this past effusive pleasantry. Yet the impressions of the two children differed slightly. The eldest, a boy of eleven, was apparently new to the domestic habits and customs of a life to which the younger, a girl of seven, was evidently native a»<l familiar. The food was coareo and less skilfully prepared than that to which he had been accustomed. There was a certain freedom and roughness in this intercourse ; a simplicity that bordered almost on rudeness in their domestic arrangements and a speech that was at times almost untranslatable to him. He slept in his clothes, wrapped up in blankets ; he was conscious that in the matter of cleanliness he was left to himself to overcome the difficulties of finding water and towels. But it is doubtful if in his youthfulness it affected him more than a novelty. He ate and slept well and found his life amusing. Only at times the rudeness of his companions, or worse, an indifference that made him feel bis dependency upon them, awoke a vague sense of some wrong that had been done to him which while it was voiceless to all others and even uneasily put aside by himself, was still always slumbering in his childish consciousness.

To tho party he was simply a half orphan put on the train at "St. Jo" by some relative of his stepmother, to be delivered to another relative at, Sacramento. As his stepi)!' :,'icr had not even taken leave of him, but had entrusted bi3 departure to the relative with whom he had been lately living, it wa=i considered as an act of "riddance," and accepted as such by her party, and even v.if-uely acquiesced in by the boy himself. What consideration had been offered for his passage ho did not know ; he only remembered that he had been told "to make himself handy." This he had done cheerfully, if at times with the unskilfulness of a novico, but it was not a peculiar or a menial task in a company where all take part in manual labor, and where existence seemed to him to bear the charm of a prolonged picnic. Neither was he subjected to any difference of affection or treatment from Mrs Silabee, the mother of his little companion, and the wife of the leader of the train. Prematurely old, of ill health, and harrowed with cares, she had no time to waste in discriminating maternal tenderness for her daughter, but treated the children with equal and unbiassed querulousness. The rear waggon creaked, swayed, and rolled on slowly and heavily. The hoofs of the draft oxen occasionally striking in the dust with a dull report, sent little puffs like smoke on either side of the track. Within the children were playing " keeping store." The little girl, as an opulent and extravagant customer, was purchasing of the boy who sat behind a counter improvised from a nail keg and the front seat, most of the available contents of the waggon, either under their own name or an imaginary one as the moment suggested, and paying for them in the easy and liberal currency of dried beans and bits of paper. Change was given by the expeditious method of tearing the paper into smaller fragments. The diminution of stock was remedied by buying the same article over again under a different name. Nevertheless, in spite of these favorable commercial conditions the market seemed dull.

" I can show you a fine quality of sheeting at 4c a yard, double width," said the boy, rising and leaning on his fingers on the counter as he had seen the shopmen do. " All wool, and will wash," he added with easy gravity. "I can buy it cheaper at Jackson's," said the girl with the intuitive duplicity of her bargaining sex. "Very well," said the boy. "I won't play any more." " Who cares ?" said the girl indifferently. The boy here promptly upset the counter; he rolled up the blanket which had deceitfully represented the desirable sheeting falling on the waggon floor. It apparently suggested a new idea to the former salesman. "I say! let's play 'damaged stock.' See, I'll tumble all the things down here, right on top o' the others, and sell 'em for less than cost."

The eirl looked up. The suggestion was hold, bad, and momentarily abstractive. But she only said "No," apparently from habit, picked up her doll; and the boy clambered to the front of the waggon. The incomplete episode terminated at once with

that perfect forgetfulness, indifference, and irresponsibility common to all young anima s. If either could have flown away or bounded off finally at that moment they would have done so with no more concern for preliminary detail than a bird or squirrel. The waggon rolled steadily on. Tlie boy could see that ono of their teamsters had climbed up on the tail-board of the preceding vehicle. The other seemed to be walking in a dusty sleep. " Kla'uns," said the girl. The boy, without turning his head, responded " Susy." " Wot are y'e going to be ?" said the girl. " Gob' to be?" requested Clarence. " When you is growed," explained Susy. Clarence hesitated. His settled determination had been to become a pirate, merciless yet discriminating. But reading in a bethumbed 'Guide to tho ' Plains' that moraiog of Fort Laramie and Kit Carson, he had decided upon the career of a "scout," as being more accessible and requiring less water. Y«st, out of compassion for Susy's possible iguorance he said neither, and responded with the American boy's modest conventionality, " President." It was safe, required no embarrassing description, and had been approved by benevolent old gentlemen with their hands on his head. "I'm goin' to be a parson'ti wife," said Susy, " and keep hens, and have things giv' to me. Baby clothes, and apples, and apple sass—and melassea ! and more baby clothes ! and pork when you kill!" She had thrown herself at the bottom of the waggon with her back towards him and her doll in her lap. He could see the curve of her curly head and beyond her bare dimple knees which were raised, and over which she was trying to fold the hem of her brief skirt. "I wouldn't be a President's wife," she said presently. " You couldn't." " Could if 1 wanted to." "Couldn't." "Could now." "Couldn't." "Why?" Finding it difficult to explain his convictions of her illegibility, Clarence thought it equally crushing not to give any. There was a long silence, It was very hot and dusty. The waggon scarcely seemed to move. Clarence gazed at the vignette of the track bshiud them formed by the hood at the rear. Presently he rose and walked past her to the tail-board. "Goin' to get down," he said, putting his legs over. " Maw says ' No,' " said Susy. Clarence did not reply, but dropped to the ground beside the slowly turning wheels. Without quickening his pace he could easily keep '-i* haDd on the tail-board. "K ■ ■•is." He loot.. ■'■ -p. "Take me. ' She had already clapped on her sun bonnet and was standing at the edge of the tailboard, her little arms extended in such perfect confidence of beiDg caught that the boy could not resist. He caught her cleverly. They halted a moment and let the lumbering vehicle move away from them as it swayed from side to side as if laboring in a heavy sea. They remained motionless untjl it had reached nearly 100 yds, and then with a Bitdden half real, half assumed, but altogether delightful trepidation, ran forward and caught up with it again. This they repeated two or three times, until both themselves and the excitement were exhausted, and thoy again plodded on hand in hand. Presently Clarence uttered a cry. "My ! Susy, look there !" The rear waggon had onse more slipped away from them a considerable distance. Between it and them crossing its track a most extraordinary creature had halted. At first glance it seemed a dog—a discomfited, shameless, ownerless, outcast of streets and by-ways, rather than ah honest astray of some drover's train. It waa so large, so dusty, so greasy, so slouching, and so lazy ! But as they looked at it more intently they saw that the greyish hair of its back had a bristly ridge, and there were great poisonous-looking dark blotches on its flunks, and that the slouch of its haunches was a peculiarity of its figure, and not the lowering of fear. As it lifted its imperious head towards them they could see that its thin lips, too short to cover its white teeth, were, curled in a perpetual sneer.

" Here, doggie ! f ' said Clarence excitedly. "Good dog! Come." Susy burst into a triumphant laugh. " F,t taint no dog, silly, its er coyote." Clarence blushed. It wasn't the first time the pioneer's daughter had shown her superior knowledge. He said quickly to hide his discomuture "I'll ketch him anyway ; he's nothin' mor'n a kigi." "Ye kent tho," paid Susy shaking her sun bonnet. " Hu's faster nor a boss !" Nevertheless Clarence ran towards him followed by Susy. When they had come within twenty feet of him, the lazy creature, without apparently the least effort, took two or three limping bounds to one sido aud remained at the bame distance as before. They repeated this onset three or four times with more or less excitement and hilarity, the animal evading them to one side, but never actually retreating before them. Finally, it occurred to them both that although they were not catching him they were not driving him away. The consequences of that thought were put into shape by Susy with round-eyed significance, " He bites."

Clarence picked up a hard sun-baked clod, and running forward, threw it at the coyote. It was u clever shot, and struck him on his slouching haunches. He screamed and gave a short snarling yelp and vanished. Clarence returned with a victorious air to his companion. But she was gazing intently in the opposite direction, and for the first time he discovered that the coyote had been leading half round a circle. "Kla'uns," says Susy, with a hysterical little laugh. "Well?'' " The waggon's gone." Clarence started. It was true! Not only their waggon, but the whole trainoxen and teamsters had utterly disappeared, vanishing as completely as if they had been caught up in a whirlwind or engulphed in the earth ! Even the low cloud of dust that usually marked their distant course by day was nowhere to be seen. The long level plain stretched before them to the setting sun, without a sign or trace of moving life or animation. That great blue crystal bowl, filled with dust and fire by day, and stars and darkness by night, which had always seemed to drop its rim round them everywhere and shut them in, seemed to them to have been lifted to let the traces pass out, and then cloud down upon them for ever.

CHAPTER 11.

Their first sensation was one of purely animal freedom!

They looked at each other with sparkling eyes and long silent breaths. But this spontaneous outburst of savage nature soon passed. Susy's little hand presently reached forward and clutched Clarence's jacket. The boy understood it, and said quickly : " They ain't gone far, and they'll stop as soon as they find us gone." They trotted on a little faster ; the sun they had followed every day and the fresh waggon tracks being their unfailing guides ; the keen fresh air of the plains taking the place of the all-pervadiug dust and smell of the perspiring oven, invigorating them with its breath.

"We ain't skeert a bit, are we?" said Susy. "What's there to be afraid of?" said Clarence, scornfully. He Baid this none the less strongly because he suddenly remembered that they had been often left alone in the waggon for hours without being looked after, and that their absence might not be noticed until the train stopped to encamp at dusk, two hours later. They were not running very fast, yet either they were more tired than they knew, or the air was thinner, for they both seemed to breathe quickly. Suddenly Clarence stopped. "There they are now." He was pointing to a light cloud of dust in the far off horizon, from which the black hulk of a waggon emerged for a moment and was lost. But even as they gazed the cloud seemed to sink like a fairy mirage to the earth again, the whole train disappeared, and only the empty stretching track returned. They did not know that this seemingly fiat and level plain was really undulatory, and that the vanished train had simply dipped below their view on some further slope even as it had once before. But they knew they were disappointed, and

that disappointment revealed to them the fact that they had concealed from each other. The girl was the first to succumb, and hurst into a quick spasm of angry tears. That single act of weakness eallfid out the boy's prido and strength. There was no longer an equality of suffering; he had become her protector ; he felt himself responsible for both. Being no longer his equal, he was no longer frank with her. " There's nothin' to boo-boo for," he said, with half-and-half affected brusqueness. "So quit now ! They'll stop in a minit and seud someone back for us. Shouldn't wonder if they're doin' it now." But Susy, with feminine discrimination detecting the hollow ring in his voice, here threw herself upon him and began to beat him violently with her little lists. " They aint! They aiut! They aint! You know it! How dare you !" Then, exhausted with her struggles, she suddenly threw herself flat on the dry grass, shut her eyes tightly, and clutched at the stubble. "Get up," said the boy, with a pale, determined face that seemed to have got much older. " You leave me be !" said Susy. " Do you want me to go away and leave you ?" asked the boy. Susy opened one blue eye furtively in the secure depths of her suu bonnet and gazed at his changed face. "Y-e-e-s." He pretended to turn away, hut really to look at the height of the sinking sun. " Kla'uns !" " Well ?" "Take me." She was holding up her hands. He lifted her gently in his arms, dropping her head over his shoulder. " Now," he said, cheerfully, "you keep a good look out that w&v, and I this, and we'll soon be there." The idea seemed to please her. After Clarenco had stumbled on for a few moments, she said : "Do you see anything, Kla'uns ?" "Not yet." "No more don't I." This equality of perception apparently satisfied her. Presently she lay more limp in his arms. She was asleep. The sun was sinking lower; it had already touched the edge of the horizm, and was level with his dazzled and straining eyes. At times it seemed to impede his eager search and task his vision. Hazs and black spots floated across the horizon, and round wafers, like duplicates of tho sun, glittered back from the dull surface of the plains. Then he resolved to look no more until he had counted fifty, a hundred, but a'wayß with the same result, the return of the empty, unending plains. Staggering under his burden he tried to distract himself by fancying how tho discovery of their absence would be made. He heard the listless, half-querulous discussion about the locality that regularly pervaded tho nightly camp. He heard the discontented voice of Jake Silsbee as he halted heside their waggon, and said " Come out o' that now, you two, and mighty quick about it." He heard the command harshly repeated. He saw tho look of irritation on Silsbee's dusty bearded face that followed his hurried glance into the empty waggon. He heard the query " What's gone o' them limbs, now?" handed from waggon to waggon. He heard a few oaths; Mrs Silsbee's high raßping voice, abuse of himself, the hurried and discontented detachment of a search party, Silsbee and one of tho hired men, and vociferation and blame. Blame always for himself, the elder, who might have " known better!" A little fear, perhaps, but he could not fancy either pity or comrnineraticm. Perhaps the thought upheld his pride; under the prospect of sympathy he might have broken down. At last he stumbled and stopped to keep himself from falling forward on his face. He could go no further; his breath was spent; he was dripping with perspiration ; his legs were trembling under him; there was a roaring in his ears ; round red discs of the sun were scattered everywhere around him like spot'* of blood. To the right of the trail there seemed to bo a slight mound where he could rest awhile, and yet; keep his watchful survey of the horizon. But on reaching it he found that it was only a tangle of taller mosquito grass, into which he sunk with his burden. Nevertheless, if useless as a point of vantage it afforded a soft couch for Susy, who seemed to have fallen quite naturally into her usual afternoon siesta, and in a measure it shielded her from a cold hreezo that had sprung up from the west. Utterly exhausted himself, but not daring to yield to the torpor that seemed to he creeping over him, Clarenca half sat, half knelt down beside her, supporting himself with one hand, and partly hidden in the long grass, kept his 3training eyes fixed on the lonely track. The red disc was sinking lower. It seemed to have already crumbled away a part of the distance with its eating fires. As it sank still lower it Bhot out long luminous rays, diverging fan like across the plain as if, in the boy's excited fancy, it too were searching for the lost astrays. And as one long beam seemed to linger over his hiding place, he even thought that it might serve as a guide to Silsbee and the other seekers, and was constrained to stagger to his feet, erect in its light, but it soon sank, and with it Clarenco dropped back again to his crouching watch. Yet he knew that the daylight was still good for an hour, and with the withdrawal of that mystic sunset glory, objects became even more distinct and Bharply defined than at any other time. And with the merciful sheathing of that flaming sword which seemed to have moved between him and the vanished train, his eyes already felt a blessed relief,

(To be continued.)

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Permanent link to this item

https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/newspapers/ESD18891026.2.33.13

Bibliographic details

A WAIF OF THE PLAINS., Evening Star, Issue 8048, 26 October 1889, Supplement

Word Count
3,416

A WAIF OF THE PLAINS. Evening Star, Issue 8048, 26 October 1889, Supplement

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