On A Donkey's Hurricane Deck Part 25

Dennison was still and peaceful when, at nine in the evening, we trailed up to its leading hotel, after a long and tiresome day's walk, for, to relieve Cheese and Mac A'Rony, c.o.o.nskin and I had journeyed half the distance on foot. But we left next day in good season for Arion, taking it slowly, as Cheese was noticeably lame; he had stumbled in the darkness the evening before. At Arion, so aggravated was his injury, that I tarried a whole day, for I appraised him a valued animal.

When I resumed the pilgrimage, I took it slowly, and relieved the animal from any burden more than his saddle. c.o.o.nskin and I took turns riding Mac, who was as chipper and strong as ever. He gloried in his health and vigor, and found amus.e.m.e.nt in chaffing his unfortunate comrade.

The eve of May thirtieth was spent in camp a few miles from Woodbine. The following morning, when we were still two miles from town, my courier, who had preceded us, wheeled back in company with an old, white-haired man leading three white Esquimaux dogs.

The stranger managed his sportive pets with one hand, and carried a basket of apples in the other; and, introducing himself and shaking hands, he presented me with the delicious russet fruit, and welcomed me to his home in the distance as his guest for the holiday, a pleasure I was compelled to deny myself, for lack of time.

According to his own account, he was a hermit and lived in the society of his canine companions, as he had the greater part of his seventy-five years. Content to subsist on the product of his little thirty-six acre farm, he denied himself the use of any portion of a small fortune of $15,000 in gold which, he claimed, he had buried somewhere outside of that state; n.o.body had ever helped him to a cent, and he resolved that no one should enjoy a dollar of his money.

I put up at the Columbia Hotel, Woodbine, a pretty brick hostelry, and, after an enjoyable lounge in the parlor, we all went out to see the military and civic parade, in keeping with the usual Memorial day custom.

The band a.s.sembled from all quarters and kinds of quarters--doors, windows, cellars, barns, corn-cribs, hay-stacks, hencoops, smoke-houses, etc., and without delay began tuning instruments. Their uniforms challenged imitation. No two were dressed alike. Every horn was different; they tried to outvoice each other, when, suddenly, the ba.s.s drum banged away and upset the equilibrium of the horns, until the snare drums and cymbals interfered as peacemakers. At last, after much strain of nerve tissue, the medley of musical tools settled down to a good, sensible patriotic tune, which held sway for fifteen minutes.

But the procession that followed the band beggared description. The band acted as leaders, the Grand Army followed as pointers, then trailed the wheelers--carriages filled with citizens and farmers.

There were democrat wagons, side-bar buggies, buckboards, carts, gigs, surreys, hayricks, baby carriages, wheelbarrows, goat carts, and velocipedes. Pedestrians then fell into line, and brought up the rear. To cap the climax, a big, fat man with inflated chest galloped past on a faded, wind-broken horse, and exhorted the excitable celebrators to strictly obey orders. "Remember, citizens," he yelled, "let us take care not to have any accident to-day, for we are not used to 'em here!" The procession had begun slowly to move forward, when suddenly the command was given to halt, and the bangity-bang, clapity-clap, rip-slap of wagon tongue against wagon boxes sounded like freight cars when the engine clamps on the brakes.

The firearms carried looked as if they had been loaned by some museum for the event. They were muskets, match-locks, flint-locks, and minus-locks; Winchesters, Remingtons, Ballards, Floberts, Sharps, Springfields; shot-guns, muzzle-loaders and breach-loaders; blunderbusses; carbines, bean-shooters, sling-shots and cross-guns--a most formidable looking a.r.s.enal. Such a pageant!

When the procession arrived at the cemetery, the hea.r.s.e, filled with flowers, stopped in front of a newly made grave. Then the undertaker in black clothes and red cap, seated beside the driver in blue coat, white trousers and stovepipe hat, banged a ba.s.s drum in his lap with an Indian club, as each floral piece was placed on the several soldiers' graves.

Presently my attention was directed to a new excavation, before which solemnly stood c.o.o.nskin, as immovable and statuesque as a marble slab; and soon I observed an aged woman approach, bend toward the human statue, and read the pathetic epitaph on his back: "Take Blank's cathartic pills and keep healthy."

"Poor boy!" she exclaimed, sorrowfully, "a pity to have died so young."

That was too much for c.o.o.nskin, who instantly resumed consciousness, and wheeled about, as the frightened mourner gasped, "Bless my stars, alive!" When Mac took in the situation he brayed with merriment, almost shaking me out of the saddle.

The interesting proceedings concluded with a volley fired over a grave, and at once bird shot, buck shot, salt pork, hickory nuts, marbles, acorns, beans, and pebbles rained about us frightfully.

When the firing was through, I a.s.sisted a quack doctor probe for a number one duck shot in Barley's shoulder and an acorn in c.o.o.nskin's leg. As I mounted my terrified donkey, I noticed the old woman had fainted. Bending over her was a gallant fellow countryman trying to fan her back to life with his broad-brimmed hat, while exposing patched trousers to an admiring crowd. As soon as she came to, we started for the hotel, congratulating ourselves on our narrow escape.

Next day we set out for Logan. Our arrival was signaled by an a.s.sembly of townspeople, headed by their Mayor, who greeted me cordially and asked to ride the celebrated donkey. He rode Mac up and down the central street before the cheering throng, as had the Mayors of other towns we had visited. Then I delivered a lecture on my travels, on a corner of the business street, after which c.o.o.nskin, who had lately received his banjo-guitar from home, accompanied me with my mandolin, recently purchased, as we gave a short serenade of music and song that made everybody sad and wish we would depart.

The morrow was the first of June; I welcomed summer joyfully.

Missouri Valley was reached in the afternoon, and there, with my dog chained in the cellar of a hotel and the three donkeys stabled, we men retired and slept the sleep of the just.

The further I journeyed, the more primitive and squatty were both dwelling and store in small places, and the architecture reached the superlative of simplicity on the plains; but I observed more of a pa.s.sion for flower gardens and shrubbery evinced west of the Mississippi than east.

The great bluffs characterizing the banks of the Missouri now loomed up, verdant and picturesque, after the genial showers and suns.h.i.+ne of spring. Every turn in the road presented a different kaleidoscopic effect to the landscape. Wild roses lined the roadside as we pa.s.sed in review with our hats trimmed with blossoms, and songbirds caroled sweet melodies from early morn till eventide. Pure springs and wells were ever within reach, and the farmers treated us to br.i.m.m.i.n.g bowls of sweet milk and b.u.t.termilk. One day, after imbibing freely from a barrel of b.u.t.termilk, standing against the porch, where I was chatting with the housewife, I was astonished to see a calf walk up to the barrel and drink. After that I lost my appet.i.te for b.u.t.termilk.

All through Iowa were droves or bunches of white-faced cattle, the predominating breed. I was told that the white-faced cattle make the best beef, which seemed to sustain the theory early advanced by the Indians, that pale-faces made the best roasts.

During the last few days, I noted a happy change in Damfino's demeanor, and a marked improvement in Cheese's tender feet.

Damfino traveled faster and more smoothly, her long ears swinging back and forth with every stride like pendulums of a clock and apparently a.s.sisting her to walk to regular time.

Just as we were trailing out of Crescent City, a woman presented me with a large bouquet of flowers.

I had intended to travel ten miles that lovely June night, but when some five miles from town, on observing an inviting gra.s.sy lot, I decided to go into camp. We let our donkeys roam at will and graze, and spread our sleeping-bag under an apple-tree; then, with Don on guard and with the gleaming stars beaming on us through the boughs, we enjoyed a delightful sleep. At dawn we were awakened by the owner of the property, a short, crabbed individual, who lifted a dirty face above the top fence-rail and called, "Git out," to us.

I was awfully sleepy and dozed on luxuriously. After a while he again hailed us, now from the opposite quarter, but still on the outside of the enclosure, where I could see him eyeing disapprovingly my huge dog. Finally we induced him to come into our camp, on the promise that our dog wouldn't molest him, and even invited him to breakfast with us. When we departed he was in good spirits. He said he lived "over in that house yonder all alone," because he couldn't afford to live "together." Of course, we understood. He informed me that we were following the old Mormon trail to Council Bluffs, where Mormonism and bigamy flourished for a season before the historic band of pilgrims crossed the Missouri in 1848. Thursday, June third, my donkeys ambled into Council Bluffs.

CHAPTER XXIX.

BY MAC A'RONY.

He was mounted upon a mule, which he rode gineta fas.h.i.+on, and behind him, by the duke's order, was led his Dapple, adorned with s.h.i.+ning trappings of silk, which so delighted Sancho that every now and then he turned his head to look upon him, and thought himself so happy that he would not have exchanged conditions with the Emperor of Germany.--_Don Quixote._

The city of Council Bluffs is four miles from the Missouri River, and takes its name as many people do, from both sides of the house. Council comes from the old Mormon councils formerly held there, and Bluffs is borrowed from the bluffs on which the city is built.

Often such things are handed down for many generations; the Mayor seemed to be constructed on the bluff order. He had the consummate cheek to tell my master he wasn't allowed to sell photographs without procuring a license, and thought he had squelched him, but he almost fell out of his chair when Pod nonchalantly pulled out a fifty dollar bill and said, "Just make out a license at once."

Then he went to work and did a land-office business, taking more money out of the town than the Mayor could put into it in a year's time.

Next morning Miss Damfino went shopping, coming back with a brand new pair of shoes. She said she saw lots of donkeys shopping, and began to distribute to a stableful of equine and asinine gossips such a lot of scandal that I was ashamed of her. She had also discovered the startling fact that there was one more river to cross. "Furthermore," said she, "our highfaluting, aristocratic, literary genius, Mac A'Rony, is to enjoy the distinction of crossing the great Missouri River Bridge in a wheelbarrow." This caused me to collapse. I fell on my knees and preyed on the bed of yellow straw, and brayed aloud for spirituous support, but all I got was a bucket of water. An hour afterward I was saddled for the show. I had experienced riding in a wheelbarrow before, and did not like the idea, but said nothing.

Sure enough, when we arrived at the bridge, there stood a wheelbarrow, just brought by a wagon from the Bluffs. I eyed the vehicle disdainfully. That was the same kind of carriage that a man once went to London with to fetch a wife home in, and now, as a fitting jubilee memorial of that historic event, I, a respectable scion of an ancient race, was to be toted across a bridge into a great city in this outlandish vehicle, to the cheers and jeers of a mult.i.tude. The event was heralded in the morning papers of both Council Bluffs and Omaha; I saw Pod reading about it on the way.

At the bridge, I was at once unsaddled, and my luggage distributed equally between Cheese and Damfino. The quilts and blankets were folded in the wheelbarrow, and with the help of two men Pod and c.o.o.nskin lifted me into the one-wheeled carriage, where I was strapped and roped so securely I couldn't budge without upsetting.

Pod wheeled me a short way first, then c.o.o.nskin relieved him; in this way I crossed that bridge of size. When half way, I thought I would be easier if I turned over, for it was an awful long bridge; in a minute I was on the bridge proper, the wheelbarrow on the top of me, improper. Wasn't Pod mad though! A street-car line crossed the bridge, and cars full of curious pa.s.sengers were pa.s.sing continually, having paid extra, I reckoned, to see the circus. I had to be untied, and again deposited in the wheelbarrow, and do you believe, those human jacka.s.ses didn't have sense enough to lay me on my other side. Then another distressing circ.u.mstance happened soon after. I could see the street at the Omaha terminus jammed with people as on a Fourth of July, but that didn't matter; a horse-fly buzzed around me a minute prospecting, and suddenly made his camp-fire on my left hip. Soon the fire burned like fury, and I not able to stand it, made one super-asinine effort, ripped and tore, and upset myself and Pod, who was wheeling me. Then the crowd cheered louder than ever. Some boy with a large voice yelled, "Hurrah for Mac A'Rony!" and three cheers were given.

"I think he'll walk the rest of the way, c.o.o.nskin," said Pod, referring to me. "Save us the trouble of fixing him in the wheelbarrow again."

Thinks I, I'll just get even with the Professor at once, and I lay down as if I were in a barnyard for the night. It didn't take those men long to put me in the wheelbarrow again, I tell you.

This time Pod didn't seem to care whether I was all in or not. My tail caught in the spokes of the wheel, and wound up so quickly that I was nearly pulled out on the bridge. The wheelbarrow came to such a sudden stop that Pod fell all over me. At first I thought I had lost my tail by the roots. It was sore long after.

Couldn't switch off flies with it, and had to kick at them, and ten times out of nine I'd miss the fly and kick my long-legged rider in the leg or foot, whereupon I would catch it with whip and spur.

At length we crossed the bridge, and there I was dumped; then I had a good roll in the dust, just to show there was no hard feeling; after which a host of inquisitive spectators followed us to the Paxton Hotel in Omaha, where we were to have a two days'

rest.

Good fortune began to fall before us now like manna from the sky.

The first morsel came in the manner of a proposition for Pod and me to pose in front of a leading apothecary's shop in the business center, and extol the virtues of fruit frappe, and incidentally his perfumed soaps, insect powders, and dog-biscuits, in consideration of several dollars in silver. The frappe clause of the contract was most agreeably cool and delectable for that summer season, and the sample doses of the various ices to which Cheese and I, not to mention Pod, were treated, furnished rare sport for an appreciative audience. The cheerful proprietor, recognizing my blue blood, attempted to feed me with a long, silver spoon; I so admired the spoon that with my teeth I stamped it with our family crest.

As the demand for frappe increased, the bra.s.s-b.u.t.toned society began to gather from the four points of the compa.s.s, and finally attempted to arrest Pod for blocking the thoroughfare; and, but for the timely arrival of the druggist, there would have been a riot. c.o.o.nskin had two guns in his belt, and Pod declared he would not be taken alive.

On this occasion, besides the money received from the druggist, c.o.o.nskin sold many chromos, for the wily Professor was far-seeing enough to work in considerable nonsense about his travels, and got even the police so interested that several cops wedged through the gang and purchased souvenirs. We made a pretty fair street show.

All were there but Miss Damfino, who felt indisposed and remained indoors.

One of our severest crosses (some folks think the a.s.s has only one cross, and that on its shoulders), was experienced a few miles southwest of the city, where we donks refused to walk a narrow plank over a shattered bridge, and were forced to ford the stream.

CHAPTER x.x.x.

BY PYE POD.

We may live without poetry, music and art; We may live without conscience, and live without heart; We may live without friends; we may live without books; But civilized man cannot live without cooks. --_Lucile._