On A Donkey's Hurricane Deck Part 23

Evidently not pleased with my expression, he instantly struck an att.i.tude, or something equally hard, and announced, "I'm the sheriff of Borden County, and have come for a jack belonging to Mr. K----."

"Jack?" I interrogated; "boot-jack, apple-jack--"

"Just plain jack," interrupted the officer.

"Well," I replied, carelessly, "I have no jack belonging to Mr.

K----, but I have the jenny he sold me for five dollars. Mr. K---- imposed upon me, and if he will refund the money, I will be only too glad to return his hundred-year old mule."

Here K---- himself entered. He stormed about, and said that I told only a section of the truth.

The sheriff gave his client a look, which quelled his ire for a moment, then, turning to me, said: "You talk reasonably enough, Mr. Pod, and doubtless mean right, but Mr. K---- has sworn out a warrant for your arrest; and if you don't want trouble and a double-jointed advertis.e.m.e.nt just turn over to K---- the jack he claims, and send your man back for the gray jenny."

It may not seem strange that I was converted to the officer's way of thinking.

"Take the donkey you claim," I said to K----, "you have the advantage of me. I haven't time to fight my case in the courts."

My black-bearded adversary now calmed his temper; his victory must have tasted sweet. I calculated the cost of the warrant and the sheriff's services to be at least ten dollars, since the officer had sacrificed angling for posse duty; although he was prevented from catching fish, there was a nice mess for me.

With reluctant equanimity the man who had wished to help me along explained that he had boasted of having acquired one of Pye Pod's noted donkeys, but when he found I had outwitted him, he swore vengeance.

On the other hand, the officer had conducted himself as a gentleman.

"Here, c.o.o.nskin," said the officer, "take this dollar and fetch us a pail of beer;" and, turning to me, added, "we must drown ill feeling amongst us, for when you come this way again, we'll show you how to catch fish."

By one o'clock next day c.o.o.nskin, weary, hungry, and morose, had managed to steer his slow "craft" into Luzerne and to moor it in front of the tavern barn. That closed the interesting event.

On our way to Tama City I was greeted by a member of a.s.sembly, who tendered me an invitation from the Mayor to dine with them that day. Lounging about the shop doors and strolling the streets, on our arrival in Tama, were many stately, still proud redskins, who, when they espied me with the wealth of canines collected on my way, s.h.i.+ed off the scent for "fire-water" and dogged my trail to the hotel.

After dinner with the Mayor and a.s.semblyman, I escorted them to the stable to discover Mac A'Rony devouring a new hair-cus.h.i.+oned carriage seat. At once the Mayor wanted to buy that donkey outright, head and seat, for a round sum.

On expressing my intention to visit the Indian Reservation, some three miles away, his Honor gave me letters of introduction to the Indian Teacher and the Indian Instructor in agriculture. There lived the Sac and Fox tribe of the Musquaques. I was told that they were one of the most primitive tribes in the States, holding on to the primeval, and often evil, customs of feeding on dog soup, indulging in various kinds of dances, living in teepees, or wickey-ups, and wearing bears' teeth, eagles' claws, scalps, skins and moccasins. As you know, I had long hoped to be welcomed as their guest. I was tired and weary of the care of my dog pack, and wished to present it bodly, save Don, to the Chief.

About two o'clock we saddled and packed. When ready to start, a diminutive bicyclist, mud-bespattered and perspiring from a hot century run, he affirmed, wheeled up to the stable and, almost before catching his breath, introduced himself to me.

"My name is Barley Korker," said he, "de champion lightest-weight wheelman in de United States, weighin' jest sixty-eight pounds.

I'm jest troo wid a trip from New York in one month and tirty-two days. My bicycle was giv me by de Cormorant Club of Phil'delfia.

De Bourbon Club of Chowchow Wheelman of Pittsburg put up five hundred dollars 'gainst de wall dat I couldn't go all de way to San Francisco and git dere. On de way I hears of de great donkey traveler, Professor Pod, so I says, I'll jest catch up wid him, and mebbe he'll take me 'long wid him."

I at once made the little fellow a proposition, which he accepted; if he would wheel ahead of my caravan every day, carrying a small flagstaff with a streamer containing the words, "Official Courier to Pye Pod," I would, as long as he gave satisfaction, defray his traveling expenses. Barley was delighted. He forthwith purchased a piece of plum-colored silk and a bit of white silk for letters, needles and thread, and, having once been a tailor by trade, when we went into camp that night said that he would make a beautiful streamer, one I would be proud of. He promised to have it completed in a couple of days.

I had not more than finished my business with my courier, when a rustic-looking boy rode up on a white donkey, and called to me, "Want ter trade?"

"Not anxious," I returned, but showed no signs of a desire to flee.

"Trade with yer, if you give me five dollars to boot," said the enterprising lad.

I recalled how I had been swindled recently in a trade, and resolved to make a deal with that boy by hook or by crook.

"Do you suppose I would think of trading this thoroughbred Irish a.s.s that has gone around the world for your common beast, just because mine is tired from fast and long traveling, and yours is fresh?" I saw I had made an impression; the lad dismounted, and examined Cheese IV, critically.

"I hain't no money to-day," said the boy, "but if you'll give me two dollars to boot I'll trade."

[Ill.u.s.tration: "_I killed my first rattlesnake._"]

[Ill.u.s.tration: "_That was the town._"]

[Ill.u.s.tration: "_Over the Platte ... after blindfolding them._"]

"What! do you want the earth?" I exclaimed. "Only before dinner I paid two dollars to have this donkey shod. I don't intend to pay two dollars more to shoe your animal."

The lad replied "All right," and galloped away, but had only gone a short distance when I hailed him. He came back without hesitation, and I then concluded a bargain. It was agreed that a blacksmith should take the new shoes off Cheese and put them on his donkey, and that I should pay him three dollars to boot. An hour later Cheese V was shod, bridled and saddled, and that afternoon became c.o.o.nskin's mount, Damfino carrying the princ.i.p.al portion of our luggage, and Mac A'Rony his master.

My party reached the Reservation in time for me to meet the Indian teacher before he left school, my courier having wheeled ahead to announce my coming.

I was greeted warmly when I presented the Mayor's letter, was shown some of the lodges of the tribe, and made acquainted with a few of the foremost braves of the camp. The teacher was an admirable interpreter, and the Indians grunted approvingly at meeting such a noted personage as Professor Pye Pod.

A fat old buck named Ne-tah-twy-tuck (old one), on being presented, extended me his hand, muttering, "How do?" His grip almost mashed my fingers.

"Much dog," he observed, eyeing my pack with doubtful admiration.

"Yes, too much," I replied; "I want to visit Me-tah-ah-qua, your great chief, and give him a heap of dogs." The Indian grinned majestically, while his teacher turned his head to control his risibles.

"Make pleasant?" the redskin grunted, and shook his head disapprovingly. "Me-tah-ah-qua say no dog good--old--make tough soup." And the brave pinched one of the mongrels, causing such a ky-eying that my interpreter feared it would put the whole camp on the war-path.

Presently an Indian boy notified the teacher that the chief had heard of Mr. Pod's arrival, and wished him to dine with him at his lodge. I accepted, and the boy departed; and soon afterward c.o.o.nskin and I were escorted to the chief's wigwam, taking my dog pack with me.

Me-tah-ah-qua met us with a grunt, rubbed my nose against his until it became lopsided, and likewise greeted c.o.o.nskin.

Then the chief waved us into the wigwam. He seated me on his right, and c.o.o.nskin on his left, while opposite to me he placed his disenchanting daughter of forty-five summers. Opposite the chief sat his first councilman, Muck-qua-push-e-too (young one), and at my right, at the entrance of the tent in full view of the host was seated our Government interpreter, seemingly much amused by the event. I lost no time in presenting my dogs to the chief, who in broken sentences, half Indian, half English, accepted the munificent gift in befitting words.

The spread consisted of a wolf skin, and on it rested a large flat stone on which to stand the kettle of soup when ready.

For some moments the chief regarded me searchingly, then said, "Me-tah-ah-qua wants--big donk man to live with him--and marry--his only daughter--Ne-nah-too-too. Me-tah-ah-qua will give--him a bow and a quiver of arrows--three seasoned pipes--five ponies--a new wicky-up--two red blankets--a deer skin--bag full of dogs'

teeth--fifteen scalps taken by his father."

The chief left off abruptly, as if for my answer, but I shook my head thoughtfully, and the chief continued:

"If you--will marry my daughter (here the chief glanced at me, then let his eyes dwell fondly on that aged belle of forty-five summers), Me-tah-ah-qua will make--you chief of his tribe--before he goes to--the Happy Hunting Grounds. He will call--your first born Chicky-pow-wow-wake-up."

I was never more embarra.s.sed, and eyed the damsel of forty-five summers, trying to persuade myself that she was beautiful and rich, and still shook my head. The old chief, seeing his inducements were not alluring, motioned to his councilman to pa.s.s the pipe of peace. After we had all taken a puff at it, the kettle of dog soup was set before us, and we all dipped in our ladles, the chief first, and began to eat.

When I first looked into that caldron of bouillon, I could see in my mind's eye, all kinds and conditions of dog staring at me, and almost fancied I could hear them barking. The soup wasn't bad, after all; it reminded me of Limburger cheese, in that it tasted better than it smelled. But c.o.o.nskin and I, and even our interpreter, ate sparingly (I use the word "ate," because there was so much meat in it). I learned from the teacher that the whole kettleful of soup was extracted from one small spaniel. "Dog gone!" I sighed.

The feast at an end, I thanked the chief for the honor conferred upon me, shook hands with his daughter, and departed. Barley Korker, Mac A'Rony and the rest of the party welcomed me with glee, and soon we were marching over the hill toward the house of the Indian farmer.

In front of a wigwam sat the chief's squaw, an old, wrinkled and parched woman of a hundred and five winters, weaving a flat mat; a little way off two Indian boys were filling pails with sand, making believe they were at Coney Island; and still beyond I saw two squaws carrying huge bundles of f.a.ggots for the wigwam fires, round which sat the lazy bucks, smoking.

A half-mile further on we met the Indian Farmer, and I presented my letter of introduction. He extended me a glad hand, and invited us all to supper, and on the way to his house, enlightened me about Indian farming, and the results of our Government's efforts to civilize the savage tribes. The Reservation contains 2,800 acres of woodland and arable soil.