Part 2 (2/2)
”I'm glad to second Mr. Woodhull's motion to throw our vote and our train for Captain Wingate and the big train,” said he. ”We'll ratify his captaincy, won't we?”
The nods of his a.s.sociates now showed a.s.sent, and Wingate needed no more confirmation.
”In general, too, I would ratify Captain Wingate's scheme. But might I make a few suggestions?”
”Surely--go on.” Wingate half rose.
”Well then, I'd like to point out that we've got twice as far to go as the Santa Fe traders, and over a very different country--more dangerous, less known, harder to travel. We've many times more wagons than any Santa Fe train ever had, and we've hundreds of loose cattle along. That means a sweeping off of the gra.s.s at every stop, and gra.s.s we've got to have or the train stops.
”Besides our own call on gra.s.s, I know there'll be five thousand Mormons at least on the trail ahead of us this spring--they've crossed the river from here to the Bluffs, and they're out on the Platte right now. We take what gra.s.s they leave us.
”What I'm trying to get at, captain, is this: We might have to break into smaller detachments now and again. We could not possibly always keep alignment in four columns.”
”And then we'd be open to any Indian attack,” interrupted Woodhull.
”We might have to fight some of the time, yes,” rejoined Banion; ”but we'll have to travel all the time, and we'll have to graze our stock all the time. On that one basic condition our safety rests--gra.s.s and plenty of it. We're on a long journey.
”You see, gentlemen,” he added, smiling, ”I was with Doniphan also. We learned a good many things. For instance, I'd rather see each horse on a thirty-foot picket rope, anch.o.r.ed safe each night, than to trust to any hobbles. A homesick horse can travel miles, hobbled, in a night.
Horses are a lot of trouble.
”Now, I see that about a fourth of our people, including Captain Wingate, have horses and mules and not ox transport. I wish they all could trade for oxen before they start. Oxen last longer and fare better. They are easier to herd. They can be used for food in the hard first year out in Oregon. The Indians don't steal oxen--they like buffalo better--but they'll take any chance to run off horses or even mules. If they do, that means your women and children are on foot. You know the story of the Donner party, two years ago--on foot, in the snow.
They died, and worse than died, just this side of California.”
Men of Iowa, of Illinois, Ohio, Indiana, began to nod to one another, approving the words of this young man.
”He talks sense,” said a voice aloud.
”Well, I'm talking a whole lot, I know,” said Banion gravely, ”but this is the time and place for our talking. I'm for throwing in with the Wingate train, as I've said. But will Captain Wingate let me add even just a few words more?
”For instance, I would suggest that we ought to have a record of all our personnel. Each man ought to be required to give his own name and late residence, and the names of all in his party. He should be obliged to show that his wagon is in good condition, with spare bolts, yokes, tires, bows and axles, and extra shoes for the stock. Each wagon ought to be required to carry anyhow half a side of rawhide, and the usual tools of the farm and the trail, as well as proper weapons and abundance of ammunition.
”No man ought to be allowed to start with this caravan with less supplies, for each mouth of his wagon, than one hundred pounds of flour.
One hundred and fifty or even two hundred would be much better--there is loss and shrinkage. At least half as much of bacon, twenty pounds of coffee, fifty of sugar would not be too much in my own belief. About double the pro rata of the Santa Fe caravans is little enough, and those whose transport power will let them carry more supplies ought to start full loaded, for no man can tell the actual duration of this journey, or what food may be needed before we get across. One may have to help another.”
Even Wingate joined in the outspoken approval of this, and Banion, encouraged, went on:
”Some other things, men, since you have asked each man to speak freely.
We're not hunters, but home makers. Each family, I suppose, has a plow and seed for the first crop. We ought, too, to find out all our blacksmiths, for I promise you we'll need them. We ought to have a half dozen forges and as many anvils, and a lot of irons for the wagons.
”I suppose, too, you've located all your doctors; also all your preachers--you needn't camp them all together. Personally I believe in Sunday rest and Sunday services. We're taking church and state and home and law along with us, day by day, men, and we're not just trappers and adventurers. The fur trade's gone.
”I even think we ought to find out our musicians--it's good to have a bugler, if you can. And at night, when the people are tired and disheartened, music is good to help them pull together.”
The bearded men who listened nodded yet again.
”About schools, now--the other trains that went out, the Applegates in 1843, the Donners of 1846, each train, I believe, had regular schools along, with hours each day.
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