Lost Lenore: The Adventures of a Rolling Stone. Reid Mayne
away for nothing; but when you say you must have something to eat, then, of course, I can do nothing but give it to you. Sally!” he continued, calling out to a young woman who stood by one of the waggons, “get this stranger something to eat.”
Looking around me, I saw a number of people – men, women, and children of every age. There appeared to be three families forming the “caravan” no doubt emigrating together, for the purpose of mutual protection and assistance. There were five or six young men – who appeared to be the sons of the elder ones – and a like number of young women, who were evidently the daughters of three others of middle age, while a large flock of miscellaneous children, a small flock of sheep, a smaller number of cattle, several horses, and half-a-dozen half-famished dogs completed the live-stock of the train.
“I guess you’re a deserter?” said the man, to whom I had first addressed myself, after he had finished his survey of myself and horse.
“No,” I answered. “I’m on my route to Fort Wool. I have lost my way, and gone without eating for two days.”
“Now, I like that way of talking,” responded the emigrant, who appeared to be the head man of the party. “When a man tells me a story, I like it to be a good one, and well told – whether I believe it, or not.”
“What reason have you to disbelieve me?” I asked, pretending to be offended at having my word doubted.
“Because I think, from your looks, that you are not a damned fool,” answered the man, “and no other but a fool would think of staying in a military fort, in this part of the world, any longer than he had a chance to get away from it.”
I immediately formed the opinion, that the person speaking to me was the most sensible man I had ever met – myself not excepted: for it was not necessary for him to have seen Lenore, to know that I had done well in deserting.
After my hunger had been appeased, I moved on with the emigrant train, which I found to consist of three Missouri farmers and their families, on their way to the “Land of Promise.” The man with whom I had conversed, was named Johnson, or “old Johnson,” as some of his juniors called him. He was a sharp, brisk sort of an old fellow; and I could perceive, at a glance there was no chance of his being humbugged by any made-up story. I, therefore, changed my tactics; and frankly acknowledged myself to be a deserter from the United States’ troops, occupying the last fort he had passed. It was scarce necessary to add, that my destination was California. I finished by proposing: that he would have my services in whatever capacity he might require them, in consideration of furnishing me with food upon the journey.
“Now, I like that way of talking,” said old Johnson, when I had concluded, “we just chance to need your help, and that of your horse, too; and we’ll try to do the best we can for you. You must expect to see some hard times, before we get through – plenty of work and no great feeding – but do your share of the work, and you shall fare like the rest of us.”
I could ask nothing fairer than this; and the next day, found me dressed in a suit of “linsey wolsey,” working my passage to California, by taking my share with the others, in clearing the track of obstructions, driving the cattle, and such other duties as fall to the lot of the overland emigrant.
The journey proved long, fatiguing, and irksome – much more so than I had expected; and many times a day did I swear, that, if I ever worked a passage to California again, it should be by water. I was impatient to get on; and chafed at the slow pace at which we crawled forward. Horses and cattle would stray, or make a stampede; and then much time would be lost in recovering them.
Sometimes we would reach a stream, where a bridge had to be built or repaired; and two or three days would be spent at the work. The draught horses and oxen would die, or, becoming unable to proceed farther, would have to be left behind. The strength of our teams was being constantly weakened – until they were unable to draw the heavily loaded waggons; and it became necessary to abandon a portion of their contents – which were thrown away upon the prairies. The first articles thus abandoned, were carpets and other useless things, not required on the journey, but which to please the women, or at their instigation, had been put into the waggons at starting, and dragged for six or seven hundred miles!
The dogs, that, at the commencement of the journey, had for each mile of the road, travelled about three times that distance, having worn the skin from the soles of their feet, now crawled along after the waggons without taking one unnecessary step. They seemed at length to have reached the comprehension: that the journey was to be a protracted one; and that while undertaking it, the idle amusement of chasing birds was not true canine wisdom.
I shall not startle my leaders with a recital of any remarkable adventures we had with the hostile Indians: for the simple reason that we had none. They gave us much trouble for all that: since our fear of encountering them, kept us constantly on the alert – one of our party, and some times more, standing sentry over the camp throughout the whole of every night.
If my readers reason aright, they will give me credit for not drawing on my imagination for any part of this narrative. They may easily perceive that, by thus eschewing the subject of an encounter with Indians, I lose an excellent opportunity for embellishing my true tale with an introduction of fiction.
As we approached the termination of our journey, the teams became weaker – until it took all of them united in one yoke to draw a single waggon, containing only the youngest of the children, and a few pounds of necessary provisions!
The old ladies, along with their daughters, performed the last hundred miles of the journey on foot; and when we at length reached the first settlement – on the other side of the mountains – a band of more wretched looking individuals could scarce have been seen elsewhere. My own appearance was no exception to that of my companions. My hat was a dirty rag wrapped around my head like a turbann while my boots were nothing more than pieces of buffalo hide, tied around my feet with strings. For all this, I was as well dressed as any of the party.
My agreement with old Johnson was now fulfilled; and I was at liberty to leave him. I was anxious to be off to the diggings, where his eldest son, James, a young man about twenty years old, proposed accompanying me. Old Johnson declined going to the diggings himself – his object in coming to California being to “locate” a farm, while the country was still “young.”
He furnished us with money to buy clothing and tools, as well as to keep us in food for awhile – until we should get fairly under weigh in the profession we were about to adopt.
I promised to repay my share of this money to his son – as soon as I should earn its equivalent out of the auriferous earth of California.
“Now, I like that way of talking,” said old Johnson, “for I’m a poor man; and as I have just come here to make a fortune, I can’t afford to lose a cent.”
I parted with Mr Johnson and his party of emigrants with some regret, for they all had been more kind to me than I had any reason to expect.
I have never found the people of this world quite so bad as they are often represented; and it is my opinion, that any man who endeavours to deserve true friendship, will always succeed in obtaining it.
I have never met a man whose habit was to rail against mankind in general, and his own acquaintances in particular, whose friendship was worth cultivation. Such a man has either proved unworthy of friendship, and has never obtained it; or he has obtained, and therefore possesses that, for which he is ungrateful.
Volume One – Chapter Nineteen.
A “Prospecting Expedition.”
On parting with the Californian colonists, young Johnson and I proceeded direct to the diggings on the Yuba, where, after looking about for a day or so, we joined partnership with two others, and set to work on a “claim” close by the banks of the river.
We had arrived at an opportune season – the summer of 1849 – when every miner was doing well. There was a good deal of generosity among the miners at this time; and those who could not discover a good claim by their own exertions, would have one pointed out with directions how to work it!
Our party toiled four