Part 56 (1/2)
”Regulations,” said Ellis politely.
The major threw him a sharp look. Then he added some hasty advice.
”It is my duty to advise you that the Indians in this section are restless. If you go on, you risk meeting hostiles.”
”We'll still go on,” said Ellis.
Major Dismuke halted and when they had drawn away from him Ellis said softly, ”Sorry, Joe, but we have to get out of here.”
”Yes, we have to get out.”
”It wasn't really a lie.”
”Ellis, let's face it. It was a lie. But we had to tell it. As soon as we get set, we're sending that mule back.”
”All right with me. But let's get set.”
The youngsters scrambled back into the wagon. Joe untied the team and climbed up on the wagon seat. He was not happy, for the baby was still feverish, but he was relieved. Emma wouldn't care to stay anywhere near this fort as long as the baby was ill. It was too rough, and the wagon was better. Somehow and somewhere Joe would get another mule and send this one back. He shook his head. Ellis's quick wit in raising the smallpox scare had averted what would have been an intolerable situation.
They stopped for lunch, and drove on. Ellis rode ahead to scout and Joe's sick heart throbbed when the baby babbled in delirium. A few minutes later, Emma spoke softly,
”Joe, we must stop. She's very bad.”
He was about to swing the mules to one side of the Trail when Ellis rode back. Ellis swung his horse in beside the wagon and looked up at Joe.
”How is the youngster?”
”Emma says bad. We have to stop.”
”There's a good creek about a quarter mile ahead and a meadow only a little ways up the creek. It's a better place than this if we're going to camp.”
”Hear that, Emma?” Joe called. ”Want to go there?”
She said, ”I think it will be better. There'll be no interruptions if we're off the Trail.”
The mules plodded down the Trail to the creek. Sparkling, clear and cold, it trickled out of a shallow little gully and flowed across the Trail to lose itself in trees on the other side. The west bank was tree-lined, but tall gra.s.s grew on the east bank and laid a soft carpet back to the line of trees. Joe saw trout lingering in a pool.
Ellis swung his horse from the Trail up a gra.s.sy embankment. ”Follow me,” he called. ”The wagon can get up here.”
The mules walked unhesitatingly after him, and Joe held them to a slow walk in order that the wagon might take gently any hidden obstructions.
Tall wild gra.s.s brushed the bellies of the mules and of Ellis's horse. A cool and gentle breeze breathed down the creek, and ruffled the slender tops of trees on the west side. The wagon listed a little, and there came the rattle of a falling bucket.
As they proceeded upstream, the meadow widened and the trees on the west bank gave way to gra.s.s. Save for one towering pine that grew halfway between the creek and the forest on top of the gently sloping hill, as far as Joe could see there was only meadow land. Three nervous cow elk, probably with calves hidden somewhere back in the forest, edged cautiously out of sight. Joe guided his team to the big pine's shade and stopped. He turned to Emma.
He unhitched and picketed the mules while Tad tied a picket rope to the cow and staked her in tall gra.s.s. Used to traveling, and accustomed to grazing different grounds every night, all three animals fell to cropping gra.s.s. Though the Oregon Trail was only a few hundred yards to the south, for centuries these meadows had been the haunt of wild things. Probably an occasional horseman had ventured here, but as far as Joe knew theirs was the first wagon that had ever come up the creek. He took a moment to look around, and breathed deeply of the pine-scented air. Jim Snedeker had known what he was talking about when he spoke of nice country.
Ellis swung Emma's crate of poultry to the ground and opened the gate.
The rooster jumped to the top of the crate, flapped his wings, and crowed l.u.s.tily. Four of the hens scurried here and there in the gra.s.s, catching bugs and picking up fallen seed. The other two, wings spread, clucked fussily and avoided the rest. Those two were broody and had been for more than a week. Even confinement in the crate and traveling all day was not enough to make them forget age-old instincts. One of them stalked secretively into the gra.s.s, searching for a place to nest.
Joe took his snath from the place where it had lain since they left Missouri and fitted a scythe to it. He tested the blade with his thumb, and through the coating of grease that covered it and prevented its rusting he felt its keenness. With a hand full of gra.s.s he wiped the scythe clean and went to work.