THE DESERT TEAMSTER.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XIII, Issue II, 14 July 1894, Page 38

THE DESERT TEAMSTER.

By

JOHN R. SPEARS.

BNE of the best known citizens of Mojave, the man of whom the people there most frequently speak when talking to a stranger of the notable features of the town and its history, is Mr Ebenezer Hadley, who keeps the livery-stable in what is known locally as ‘ the old company’s stable.’ There is nothing distinguishing about Mr Hadley’s appearance or business. He is rather young looking for his age, though that is nothing in one not yet at middle life, and he is simply ‘ doing first rate ’ in business ; but let the stranger only casually mention the subject of life on the desert, or suggest the existence of stories of adventure there and the citizens will say : ‘ Stories, is it ?’ Life, eh ? Well, rather. You just want to hear about Eb Hadley,’ and then he will tell all about Eb, as every one calls him, whether or no. It was in the days when Marietta, Nevada, was one of the wildest mining camps the American desert ever saw that Eb first became noted in desert annals. While some hundreds of men were digging silver ore out of Excelsior mountain, and others were hunting for leads all over the range, and the streets were only a little less noisy, on the average, than the stamps in the big red mill—at the time when the gamblers were in luck and the daily stage was held up once a week, and the bullion waggon was robbed and its driver killed en route to Belleville—Eb Hadley was driving a freight team for the mine company, hauling supplies from Belleville, and nut-pine from the range tor fuel in the stamp mill. With this huge waggon and the twelve mules that drew it. Eb led a rude and solitary life. It was soon after the theft of the bullion that public attention was first directed to him. That robbery was a serious matter. Now that the road agents had been once successful, the bullion waggon would be continually in danger. As the superintendent of the mine pondered on the matter, Eb Hadley walked into the office and offered to carry the metal when going for supplies. ‘ It’ll be safe for a trip ’r two, becau s nobody’ll think of lookin’ there for it,' added Eb. It was a novel idea, and it was adopted at once.

So it happened that just at sunrise one morning Eb’s team, with the bullion in the feed-box, reached withoot incident, the level top of the divide between Marietta and Belleville. There Eb stopped it, and climbing a crag looked back over the trail with a field-glass. The first glance made him gasp. Three horsemen were coming rapidly, and one was the leader of the camp’s desperadoes. The news of the bullion shipment had leakea out, and these men were looking for the meta).

For the few minutes required to drive across the plateau Eb anxiously considered the situation. Belleville was nearly three miles away, and a thousand feet below him. Once well clear of the canon on the road down he would be safe, but the trail in the canon was in places so steep that the waggon wheels were always locked fast in passing. Worse yet, it was a crooked trail, and the last turn in'it was called Bloody Bend, because two waggons, having got beyond the control of their drivers there, were overturned and both men killed.

As Eb thought of these accidents and bis own scheme for escaping, he swore under his breath at 1 the galute that ’ud run into trouble when he hadn’t no call t’:’ but because the trip was of his own devising his pride was stirred and he said aloud: • I’ve jes’ nattarly got t’ try.’ At the edge of the plateau he partly set the brake and leaped to the trail for some handy bits of lava. Then he climbed back, and as the big waggon pitched over the crest of the grade he threw off the brake and with wild yells and pelting stones sent the long team galloping down the canon in one of the wildest races the American desert ever saw. Clonds of dust rose high in air. The huge waggon swayed and tilted from side to side as it bumped over the. broken rocks, while little avalanches of gravel and sand came tumbling down the steep walls of the canon. With one hand grasping the long line, Eb with the other hand alternately loosened and tightened the brake, but never for a moment checked the speed of the galloping team. With marvellous good fortune stretches and turns were passed and rounded until at last the low cement-gravel walls of Bloody Bend appeared at the bottom of a long, steep grade. The supreme moment of the race was at hand, and half

wild with excitement, Eb let go of the brake bar entirely, to throw his last chunk of lava at the flying leaders, and then, with the sharp turn a scant two hundred yards away, he grabbed the brake and threw his whole weight on it to bring the team short up. Only a lucky jolt saved him from falling under the wheels. A wheel block had dropped from place and the brake was ruined. The race to save the bullion had become for the moment a race with deatu. An ordinary man would have leaped from the waggon to save his lite, but the keen eyes of Eb saw a better chance. At the foot of the outer wall, right in the hollow of the bend, the gravel formed a steep, but narrow slope. Not more than one driver in a hundred could guide a galloping team so that the outer wheels would rise on such a slope without digging the hubs into the solid wall above, but Eb Hadley was the hundreth man. It was touch and go. The whole waggon leaped into the air as it changed its course, but it settled on four wheels, and with a whoop of triumph, Eb sped out over the gently sloping mesa. A year later, Eb Hadley stepped from the cars at Mojave. He had been attracted there because of a most remarkable system of waggon transportation then in operation. A San Francisco firm was engaged in refining the crude borax found in Death Valley, one hundred and sixty-nine miles away, and trains, each of two waggons, drawn by twenty mules and carrying more than twenty tons of the mine product, were passing over the trail every day. At the mine company’s office, Eb found Mr Jonas Berry, the superintendent of transportation, talking with a welldressed man wearing noticeable gold-rimmed goggles, whom Eb at once seemed to recognize, though he could not place him. ‘ I heer’d ye wanted teamsters,’ said Eb, as the superintendent turned to him. •We might hire a good one. Do you know anybody looking for a job ?’ ‘ I’m lookin’ for one.’ ‘ You are, eh ’ Ever drive a big team ? We don’t want any raw-hide drivers.’ 1 1 guess I can suit. I’d like to try.’ • Where did you learn how ?’ • Nevada.’

‘ Hum—m. We’ve had good men from Nevada and some we didn't like a bit. There’s one up that way I’ve been looking for,—the one the road agents chased when he was hauling bullion; but be gave them a great race. Ever hear of him?’ • Yes, sir.’ Eb’s face did not change. ‘ What’s his name ?’ • Eb Hadley.’ • That’s it. Know him ?’ • I’m Eb Hadley.’ • So—o—o 1’ Berry jumped up quickly. •Mr Hadley I’m right glad to see you. Excuse me. I ought to have known you on sight. Want a job, eh ? Well, I reckon.’

At that moment the man who had sat beside Berry got up, took off his goggles, and after a nod to Berry, said : • Well, Eb, how is it ? Are we bad friends or good V Eb’s face had lost its smile when the man’s goggles came off, and he made no reply. • We'd better have a new deal,’ the man continued. * Business is good and I don’t want any trouble here. I know you better than I did in Marietta, and I reckon you’ve known me well enough all the time. I aim to attend strictly to my own business while I’m in Mojave.’ ‘ That’s what I aim to do, and nothin’ else,’ said Eb. Berry was looking on with the neutral and uninterested air which men of experience always assume when trouble seems to impend in a town like Mojave. •That’s just what I expected you to say,’ continued the man. * All bets off, eh ? I’m dealing faro over at Bulkley’s —square game, too. And since Berry’ll want to know what this is all about I reckon I’d better tell him we bad a little trouble up in Marietta over a horse race on the mesa, eh ? And I lost you because you wouldn’t throw the race. Ah ! (turning to Berry) Keep your eye on Eb when his sporting blood’s up. He heard I was going to shoot him. and did he coyote? Nah. Got some friends and a rope. Lucky I was on my way to Carson just then.* He laughed lightly, so did Berry. • It's all settled now, though?’ asked Berry. ‘ Certainly,’ said the gambler.

‘ Then let’s wet it down with a little whisky.’ Berry turned to Eb, but Eb hesitated. The man with the goggles was none other than Dennin, the road agent, who had led in that race for the bullion. He had told the truth in part, too, when speaking of Eb’s friends and the rope. When he found that Eb had won the race he returned and told people that he should kill the plucky driver at the first good opportunity. Eh was hunted for his life in Marietta. He was hunted, as sometimes happens to peaceloving men, until both fear and the love of peace were driven out of him. The bunted became the hnnter, and Le would have killed Dennin, too, they say, but for one circumstance. When Eb needed no help the mob suddenly took up his quarrel and went after Dennin with a rope. - Eb was thinking of these things when Berry proposed taking a little whisky. He didn’t want any tronble—as already said, he was a peace-loving man—but how could he down the desperate hate that comes to a man who has been dogged for his life without reason? He could not do it wholly, he thought, but here was a chance to try. ‘ He’s knuckled under by beggin’ off,’ Eb thought to himself, * and I’ll let him off as long as he behaves himself.’ That settled the matter in Eb’s mind. It took him but the briefest instant to reach the conclusion, and before the two men had mere than just noticed his hesitation, he held out his hand to Dennin, and then all went over to Bulkley’s for the drinks. The team which Eb was to drive was somewhere ont on the desert bound in. He would have to wait for it a few days. Berry, after the drinks, led the way to the hotel kept by Widow Hooper, ‘ where you get the best grub for the money in town,’ as he said. He meant well, but he was doing unwittingly the only thing he could have done to break the truce between Eb and the gambler.

The landlady was found in the hallway, and Berry said : * Mrs Hooper, this is Eb Hadley who’s going to drive for us. Bemember hearing about him ? He’s the chap the the road agents chased around Bloody Bend np in Nevada, and didn’t get him neither. Better not give him too much to eat. High living, you know, has a bad effect on these nervy fellows.’ Berry and the widow langhed cheerfully and Eb looked sheepish, and then flushed to his ear tips as, glancing into the parlour, he saw that a remarkably attractive young woman had heard what had been said and was looking at him with interest. Berry followed Eb’s glance. ‘Hello, Jennie,* he-said, ‘now you’re in luck. What’s that’s you were saying t’other day about heroes and all the men in town being stuffs ? Well, now, here’s the man yoa were aching for. When he sent that team on the jump for Bloody Bend he didn’t have one chance in a thousand for his life and he knew it, but— * But Miss Jennie turned her nose up at the superintendent to let him know that she cared not a cent for his * joshing,’ and then turned her back on the party. But Eb, in spite of his bashfulness, caught a glance* from her eye that gave him a novel sensation.

Eb Hadley was not a ladies’ man in any sense, nor had the mining-camp women he had seen been of a class to increase his naturally scant attentions to the sex. But now new conditions were at hand. Miss Jennie seemed to be

well nigh perfection. Conclusions of all kinds follow quickly on causes in the desert. Within a day Eb, poor fellow, was desperately in love with pretty Jennie. ‘Poor fellow’is used advisedly in writing of Eb’s condition, for his troubles began with his liking for the girl. Among the hotel guests were merchants, railroad men and gamblers—some of them young as well as unmarried, and half the lot in love with Miss Jennie. In social polish Eb, when compared with these men, was pitiably lacking, and he knew it. The sight of their ever ready services ana their graceful compliments 'were misery for awkward Eb. He says now that he would have left the house and tried to forget the girl, but for one thing—Dennin, the blackleg, was among her suitors. Eb had agreed to attend to his own business, ‘ and nothin’ else.’ The gambler’s love-affairs were not part of that business. Nor had Eb any definite idea what to do should he make them his business. So in what be called a plagued state of mind he loitered about the sitting-room. Here, however, he soon found Miss Jennie becoming very attentive. Indeed, he was sure that, save for Dennin, he

was so favoured more than any man in the house. But he did not see that the lassie, although l as straight as a stretched string,* dearly loved to flirt—to play one man against another to the tantalising of both. The attentions of the gambler, who was easily the most polished man in town, pleased her vanity. Eb, with no polish at all, had come to town with a halo of desert glory about his head and had immediately fallen in love with her. There was a thrill of pride in her heart at the thought. And what great sport it was to mention Eb’s heroism to Dennin apropos of hothing, and at another time, in like fashion, praise Dennin’s gracefulness to Eb. She was only seventeen, and so could not see how she was playing a game that would quickly bring the men to bloodshed ; that Eb was growing desperate, and that Dennin, though be had no real love for her, was piqued and beginning to think he ought to * do for the lout.’ The truth was, they say, that the relations of the two men got into such a state, after two or three days, that they avoided each other, for neither wanted to precipitate a fight after the compact of peace that Berry had witnessed. Eb was so scrupulous that he left his revolver in his valise, lest feeling its weight, when he should see Dennin, should tempt him to draw and fire. Dennin continued to wear a pistol, but he changed his hours for meals. The breaking of the truce, the opening of the old trouble with a new one to intensify the feeling, was at hand. So matters stood on the morning of Eb’s fifth day at the hotel. On that morning Miss Jennie was particularly gracious, and when Dennin came down from his room he saw that she was in the hammock on the back verandah, and Eb was swinging her to and tro. Dennin could see that she was greatly interested in something Eb was saying. She was so attentive, in fact, that when she glanced into the hall and Dennin raised his hat she did not even recognise him.

, Dennin was furious. He thought Jennie was snubbing him, and that Eb had been telling her tales that made her do it. He was just on the point of rushing at Eb, when someone in the street called his name. Turning about he saw a prospector with whom he had an engagement for an examination of some remarkable specimens of ores. The prospector had a couple of burros, and a burro colt in the street, and even the colt had a pack on it. As Dennin looked, the prospector nodded toward the animals significantly, and the gambler, forgetting his anger in his greed, went into the street, and was seen no more at the hotel that day. • • Along in the afternoon, Eb once more found himself swinging the lassie in the hammock on the back verandah, but her mood was different. In less than half an hour Eb was so vexed that he forgot himself, and in a burst of indignation said Dennin was a highway robber as well as a gambler. Jennie was on her feet in a moment with her eyes blazing. * What 1 Are you a coward, that you call him a mean name behind his back ?’ she asked. * That’s so,’ said Eb, simply, * I ought't’ do it to his face. I’ll do better ’n that,’ and he walked away, leaving the girl to wonder what he meant, and half wishing that she had been less emphatic in expressing her disapproval. At five o’clock that afternoon Superintendent Berry entered his stable and found Eb loading a fine revolver, which had evidently just been cleaned. ‘ What’s the matter, Eb ?’ asked Berry, as he saw Eb’s serious face. • You know I’m your friend.’ ■ I do, you bet,’ said Eb. * I’ve got to kill Dennin in a fair fight, and you’ll bring him and one of his friends here—yon bet fie won’t reach Carson this time.’

Berry’s face brightened up with admiration. *By the Lord, but you’re the stuff,’ he said. * I’d do it instanter, but I can’t. Dennin left town an hour ago.’ ‘You don’t mean it,’ said Eb. ** Yes, I do. Did you see that tramp prospector with the burros and colt ronnd the saloons the last two days ? He’s one of them that’s always finding the Gun Light lead again in the_ Paramints. He’d lots of wire silver and - sulphurettes. Dennin got clean stuck on him and his charts and sketches of natural objects, and bought the whole outfit for five hundred dollars cash and han the claims. He was that -razy he couldn’t wait till morning to start; but if you’ll go over to Bnlkley’s yon’ll find the prospector blowing in that five hundred dollars in style.’ Eb groaned in his disappointment, and at that Berry laughed cheerfully. ‘Don’t you fret your mules any longer, my boy. He’s sure to cross our trail, even if he don’t follow it to Windy Gap. You may see him—hum—m— he may waylay you if yon ve got it in for one another again.* Berry became suddenly serious, bnt Eb jumped to his feet in his eagerness. •Just let him God ! If he only will try it 1’ he said. • To see even the track of him is all I wish for.’

He saw * the track of him ’ and the man too; but the circumstances were different from what he expected. Who has seen the desert road to Death Valley, with its whirling sand-spouts, its lurid mountains, its rugged canons, its arid heat and thirst, its utter silence and desolation ? I Some of the men who drove those teams died in the trail, *nnable to survive its hardships. Others became insane and killed their comrades, for two men travelled with every team. The best and moot cheerful of them all grew old and stolid, one may say, in a day. Eb could guess what was before him, for the trails of Nevada were only a little less frightful in their effects on the teamsters. And yet, as he started his long team on this journey, he whistled or sang like a echodl-boy, and laughed through dose-shut teeth, by turns. Miss Jennie had come out on the hotel verandah, although the sun was not yet up, to wave her hand at him, and he was going out where, please God, he would find the blackleg and make him stand up in a fair fight. He was going out where Dennin had gone, anyway ; he was doing all he could now to find the scoundrel

But the exhilaration of spirits could by no means last. The hot season was at hand, and the man does not live who can keep up his spirits in such a journey as Eb was making. For two days, Eb was often on his feet to look across the plain for signs of a man with burros. Thereafter he lifted his head frequently, as he sat in his seat; but when the mountains, five days out, were reached, he sat crouched over, apparently lifeless, save for his restless eyes. And so he remained till his destination was reached, and, although refreshed somewhat by a night in the little oasis in Death Valley, so he continued as he journeyed back again. He became even more dispirited after leaving the mountains, for then he had abandoned hope of finding Dennin. Worse yet, to his mind, Dennin was probably dead. No one had seen any trace of him along the route, and Dennin, so far as desert prospecting was concerned, was a tender-foot. How could he hope to survive the torments that sometimes destroyed the acclimatised ? Such thoughts as these were continually in Eb’s mind. They were there on the morning after the night that had' been passed at Granite Spring, on the gray slope of Pilot Butte, four days out from Mojave. He was even groaning inwardly at the thought of thwarted vengeance, when his assistant, the swamper shouted :

• Say, pard, what’s that meanderin’ this way, down by them yuccas V Eb stared toward the yuccas, with an eager look on his face ; but the look turned to a heavy frown as the swamper continued : * Them is burros straight enough, but I don’t see any prospector with them, do you ? God ! I’m sorry for the poor devil they left behind them !’ Eb was biting his lip. He had seen burros come in from the desert in Nevada, as these were coming here, and had gone out to rescue * the poor devil they left behind.' He had found a man stark naked, walking in a circle on the burning sand, holding his clothes high above his head and calling* for help to save him from drowning. He had seen the delirious fancy change and the man drop on his knees and dig for water with naked fingers, only to fall over at last, exhausted and with hands outstretched, showing where the flesh had been worn away to the bone. And here were ‘Dennin’s burros coming. The thief, gambler, desperado was out there on the desert somewhere, dying by inches — perhaps at that moment digging with bleedihg fingers in the sand.

Eb was saying to himself ovek and over that * it serves the blackleg right,’ saying it desperately ; but conscience would not have it so.

* Say, Eb 1 Lord of Moses ! It’s Dennin’s outfit,’ shouted

the swamper, in sudden excitement; bnt Eb did not hear, for a voice seemed to be whispering in his ear : * What would she say ! What would she say ?’ and Eb replied to this voice aloud.

• I’ve jes natterly got t’ try. I’m goin’ after the —the— what them burros left behind ’em. He mayn’t be dead yit.’ The swamper stared at Eb a moment, and then said to himself softly : ‘ Well, I’m d d.’ On the afternoon of the day when Eb’s team should have reached Mojave, Superintendent Berry was so busy that be did not notice the lapse of time till the office o’clock strnck fonr. At tbe sound he walked over to tbe window. Eb should be at least in sight, but not a sign of a team was to be seen. Another hour passed and still no team appeared. The superintendent began to worry. He had liked Eb immensely. and for another hour he paced the floor. Then the supper-bell rang, and be was just going to leave, when he saw that a passing sand-storm away out on the desert was thickened by tbe cloud from a coming team. He met the outfit half a mile from tbe dump. • Where’s Eb?’ he shouted. ‘ What? To rescue Dennin ?’ • Yes, sir, and he ’lowed you’d send a buckboard t’— ’ ‘Send a bnckboard, eh ? Send one? You bet i’ll take one.’

Within an hour Mojave was in a turmoil over Eb’s doings, and tbe starting of two well fitted desert buckboards over the only two trails on which the teamster could be found. In the morning and during every hour of the day, everyone who came out of doors turned first of all to look out over the long trail toward Death Valley. But not a sign did they see, and night came down once more. It was one of those rare nights on tbe desert when the wind does not blow, and all tbe people came out on tbe street and stood in groups to speculate on the return of the buckboards. They were standing so at ten o’clock, when Berry’s pair of big bays suddenly appeared and drove to Mrs Hooper’s. The population at once massed about it. They found Eb sitting on the bottom of the buckboard, holding on his lap the head of an unconscious man, to whose lips he pressed a sponge. A dozen men, eager to help, carried Dennin into the hotel. A dozen other impulsive citizens carried Eb in also, and pnt him in an armchair at the head of the lounge where Dennin lay. Then all stood around and talked in undertones, while a surgeon worked over the unconscious man. Finally, the surgeon stopped work, and said :

• It’s of no use, boys; he’s sinking, and can’t last three hours.’

At that Eb arose and worked his way from the room. The crowd oppressed him. He was trying to think, and could not. Going to the back verandah he sat down and leaned his head against one of the posts, and with one band resting on the floor gazed over the dimly visible wastes of sand.

Then a gentle footstep came behind him, bis hand was lifted from the floor by soft fingers and wet with tears that fluffy curls brushed away. It is said that once in four or five years there comes a season when rain falls on the Mojave desert until the thirsty soil is satisfied. Then the clouds clear away, and with the coming of sunshine myriads of blooming plants spring up, until the whole arid desert becomes one vast mass of fragrant flowers. But neither rain nor sunshine nor miles of radiant flowers could have brightened the gloom of the desert for Eb as did the tears of the girl when she nestled down by his side.