CHAPTER III
DUKE ON A RAMPAGE
Before noon of the next day Harry, in the advance guiding Jenny andDuke, swung his hat and cheered.
"Did you ever see the like!" he cried. "The rush has begun, all right."
"I should say!" gasped Terry.
They had arrived in sight of the town of Manhattan, just above the mouthof the Big Blue, on the Kansas River emigrant trail from the east. Theprairie for half a mile around was alive with campers; the smoke from ahost of dinner fires drifted upon the clear air, and a great chorusarose--shouts of men, cries of children, bawling of cows and oxen,barking of dogs.
"And this is only one trail from the Missouri," said Harry. "Hurrah!Gwan, Duke, Jenny! Gwan!"
As they proceeded down the valley road, for the town, presently theystruck the overflow of the encampment, and began to be greeted fromevery side. Duke and Jenny apparently attracted much attention.
"Whar you think you're goin', boys?"
"Why don't you get astraddle an' ride?"
"Is that a genuyine buff'lo?"
"Who invented that rig?"
"I'll trade you a cow for your mule, strangers."
"When do you give your show?"
And so forth, and so forth. Men laughed, women and children stared, dogsbarked, and Shep, bristling, took refuge under the cart. To all thesallies Harry, and sometimes Terry, made good-natured reply, for thiswas a good-natured crowd.
Many wagons besides theirs bore signs. There were several with "Pike'sPeak or Bust," which evidently was popular. "To the Land of Gold" wasanother favorite scrawl. One wagon announced: "Mind Your Own Business."Another proclaimed: "From Pike County for Pike's Peak." And another:"We're Going to See the Elephant--Are You?"
As they entered the main road they turned in just ahead of a ricketyfarm wagon with flimsy makeshift cotton hood, containing a strangemedley of children, women, household furniture, what-not. It was drawnby a cow and a gaunt horse, a goat was led at the rear, a dusty, sallowman trudged alongside. The wagon-hood said: "Noah's Ark."
"How'll you swap outfits, strangers?" sung the man.
"Nary swap," laughed Harry.
"Whar you from?"
"Up the Blue."
"We're from Injianny," quavered one of the women, on the front seat."It's a powerful long way to the gold fields, isn't it?"
"You've hardly started yet," replied Harry. "But just keep a-going."And--"Whoa, Duke! Look out, there! Gee! Gee-up!" He thwacked Dukesmartly on the shoulder with the willow pole, and ran to his head. Theroad before and behind was thronged with the travelers, and Duke, notaccustomed to so much confusion, had been waxing restive. He snorted,his eyes bulged, his little tail jerked, and he made a side-ways jump atan annoying dog. Out flew Shep, rolled the dog over and over until hefled yelping, while with rapid commands Harry quieted Duke. Even Jennythe yellow mule was showing symptoms of rebellion.
"We'll never get into town, this way," panted Harry. "Let's drive aroundand on to the river and unspan for noon. Then you watch Duke, and I'llride Jenny back in for supplies."
So, picking their path, they began to circuit the little town. To dothis was considerable of an undertaking, for the tents and wagons andpeople were scattered everywhere over the prairie, and Duke muchresented the shouts and laughter and smoke and barking dogs and theincessant orders from Harry. His eyes bulged, he rumbled indignantly, heshook his head, the froth dripped from his lips.
On a sudden a mean little cur darted from one side and nipped him in hisheel--and this was the last straw. With a lunge and a kick away hebolted, dragging the surprised Jenny until she also lost her temper, andtogether they dragged the cart.
Harry ran, shouting. Terry ran. Shep yapped excitedly.
"Stampede!"
"Look out for the buffalo!"
"Hi! Hi!"
"Head 'em off!"
Women hastily clutched children, men waved their arms and hats.
"Duke! Jenny! Whoa! Whoa!" vainly yelled Harry and Terry, following atbest speed in the wake of the lurching cart.
Through among the camps galloped Duke and Jenny--Duke cavorting, Jennyplunging, the cart bounding and skidding, the pails and cooking utensilsrattling, people scampering from the path; and Harry and Terry, in theirheavy boots, pursuing, wild with alarm. Something serious was likely toresult.
There! A dinner group was shattered--away rolled the pot, and the fireflew. There--down collapsed a tent, as the cart struck the guy-ropes!Into a clearing burst the two animals--but straight for a wagon and oxteam facing them, beyond! The wagon had no hood, and its principaloccupants were a black-bearded, black-hatted, red-shirted man on theseat and a large barrel in the box.
Duke must have been seeing red, by this time. His head down, he chargedat the wagon, or oxen, or both. The man on the seat yelled; swung hisarm at Duke; swung his whip at his own team--tried to turn them; andthen, in a great panic, with a mighty leap landed asprawl and losing hishat, legged for safety, his boot-tags flopping and his shaggy hairtossing.
"Ha, ha!" roared the spectators. And the man did indeed look funny.
The yoke of oxen suddenly awakened to the danger, and sharply veered.Duke just missed them, at an angle--he and Jenny both, but the cartstruck the rear of the wagon, tilted it, tilted the barrel, and therestayed, locking wheels with it, while Duke and Jenny were brought to aquick stand.
Up raced Harry and Terry, to investigate damages. At the same time backclumped the man, aglare with rage.
"Oh, crickity!" gasped Terry. "It's Pine Knot Ike!"
"Hyar!" he bellowed. He searched for his precious hat and clapped it onhis ragged locks. Now his hair and whiskers stood out all around hisface. "Hyar! I want to ask what you mean by rampagin' through a peacefulcollection o' citizens an' endangerin' the life an' property of a man inpursuit of his lawful okkipation? I air mild, strangers; I kin stan' agood deal, but now I air after blood. My name is Ike Chubbers, but mostpeople call me Pine Knot Ike, 'cause I air so plaguey hard to chaw. Thatthar air your buffler, air it? Waal, I will now perceed to eat him."
With that, Ike whipped a huge revolver from his belt--and instantlyHarry sprang like a cat for him--grabbed the arm--"None of that, PineKnot Ike!"--bang went the gun, and the bullet plinked somewhere, but notinto Duke.
"None of that, Mr. Ike Chubbers!" repeated Harry, stoutly forcing themuzzle upward. "You can't shoot any animal of ours. Besides, no damagehad been done."
"Yes; you can't go shooting promiscuous through a camp like this,friend," spoke somebody in the crowd that had gathered. "Those boysaren't to blame for their stampede. Put your gun where it belongs."
"Why didn't you stay with your wagon?" demanded somebody else.
Pine Knot Ike slowly relaxed. Harry released his grip on the revolver,and Ike glared around. His fierce black eyes came back to Harry, whostood breathless but ready.
"We have met before, stranger," he growled. "You air the schoolmasterwho nigh murdered me in this hyar very town. You know me, I reckon?"
"I am the schoolmaster who made you dance, with your own revolver, afteryou'd threatened to kill me if I didn't drink liquor for you," retortedHarry. "Yes, I know you for a big bulldozer."
And Terry well remembered the first encounter, last summer, betweenHarry and Pine Knot Ike, when Harry not only had refused to drink buthad cleverly snatched Ike's gun and ordered him to dance as a penalty.Yet Ike was as large in body as two Harry Reveres.
"Haw, haw!" laughed the crowd.
Ike glared around again.
"I cherish no bad feelin's," he alleged. "I air a man o' peace. I air sopeaceful that I hain't bit a nail in two for nigh a full week. I mostlydrink milk." His breath did not _smell_ milky! "I air so peaceful that Igener'ly lay down an' let folks walk on me. But I would ask if apeaceful man pursuin' a lawful okkipation, on his way to build up acivi-_li_-zation in them Rocky Mountings air to be run over by two boysan' a wild buffler an' a yaller mule?"
"Hey! Your whiskey's leakin'!" called a voice.
And that was so. Pine Knot Ike exclaimed and leaped for his wagon. Theodor in the air had not been entirely from his breath. The bulletintended for Duke had punctured the barrel near the top; and now thewagon was dripping.
Ike hastily clambered in. First he tried to stop the hole with histhumb; next with his hat; and while the crowd hooted he shamelesslystooped and glued his lips to the spot!
"Haw, haw! There's his 'lawful okkipation'!"
"That's his idee of 'civi-_li_-zation,' is it?"
"Pity the hole isn't at the bottom instead of near the top," remarkedHarry, disgusted. "Come on, Terry."
With a little help they freed the cart from the Chubbers wagon; anddriving the now quieted Duke and Jenny, proceeded on their way. Behind,they heard Pine Knot Ike haranguing the crowd, proclaiming that he was a"ruined man." But he seemed to get scant sympathy.
Without more adventure they completed the half circuit of Manhattantown, crossed the main road and between the road and the Kansas Riverfound a shady spot where they might noon comfortably. Duke was tied by afore-leg to a tree (they knew better than to tie him by the horns, forhe was strong enough to break any rope, that way); and after lunchHarry rode Jenny bareback, down to town, for supplies.
The road up-river was one line of outfits toiling onward under a cloudof dust. They were interesting to watch. Was the whole United Statesmoving westward for the mountains? The constant processionpassed--wagons of all descriptions, men horseback and muleback, men,women and children afoot; a party of men accompanying a push-cart hauledby two of them in the shafts. The "Noah's Ark" wagon passed. And PineKnot Ike's wagon, with Ike swaying tipsily on the seat. And now a manwheeling a wheel-barrow. But he did not pass, after all. He turnedaside, and deposited his laden barrow and himself under a tree nearTerry.
He ate his lunch, and eyed Terry, Shep and Duke.
"How'll you trade?" he asked. That was the customary challenge.
"No trade," answered Terry, promptly. "Are you going clear to Pike'sPeak with a wheel-barrow?"
"Yes, sir. I'll push across. I've got the best outfit of anybody. Onlymy own mouth to feed, and don't need to look for grass. When I make adry camp I'm the only sufferer. I can set my own gait, too--can covertwenty miles a day. Well, my name's McGrew. What's your name? Where youfrom, where'd you get that buffalo, who's with you, and what trail doyou calculate on taking?"
He seemed to be a very cheerful, plucky man, and Terry replied infashion as friendly.
"My name's Terry Richards. My partner's Harry Revere--he's the same as abrother. We're from up the Big Blue. This buffalo is half cow; I caughthim when I was hunting with the Delawares; his name is Duke. We'rethinking of taking the Republican trail."
"Oh, you're the boys from the Big Blue, are you? I might have guessed.I've heard about you."
"Have you?" responded Terry, curious.
"Yes. Sol Judy rode through last night and told me to keep an eye outfor you; but you seem able to take care of yourselves, all right,judging from your little set-to with that whiskey peddler. I only wishthe shot had gone lower, but the chances are he'll empty his barrelhimself before he gets to the diggin's."
"Which trail do you think you'll follow?" asked Terry, in turn.
The wheel-barrow man scratched his head.
"I travel light. Believe I'll tackle the Smoky Hill route, straight westfrom Riley. It's shortest. Sol favors the Republican, on account of thestages. The majority of the people are going by the Smoky, though, or bythe Santa Fe Trail--except those who are already striking the Republicanfarther to the north of us. The California and Oregon Trail, up alongthe Platte, of course will be the main trail."
Harry returned with a sack of flour, a side of salt pork or sow-belly,some sugar and coffee and beans, matches, a hatchet, and a few otherarticles. His arms were filled, and Jenny was almost covered, much toher disgust. She hee-hawed at Duke, and Duke stared wonderingly throughhis matted forelock.
"Best I could do," hailed Harry. "Never saw such a mob. The stores arenear cleaned out. I couldn't get picks or spades for love or money, butI reckon we can find them at the other end, or maybe at Junction Citybeyond Riley."
"Well, I'll see you boys at the diggin's," spoke the wheel-barrow man,rising and grasping the handles of his barrow. And away he trudged, toskirt the procession on the dust-enveloped road.
"He says he's going to try the Smoky Hill trail," informed Terry,"because it's shorter."
"It may do for him," answered Harry. "But the more haste the less speed,for some of the rest of us. I believe we'd better take Sol's advice, andbreak our trail across to the Republican until the stages catch up withus."