Alfred Lambourne

“ How delightful when danger did not lie in ambush, to walk, arm locked in arm, far ahead of the leading wagon; how delightful to sit amid the flowers and to feel the solitude of the boundless prairie! Yet love is a danger that lurks everywhere. To linger, ever so short a distance behind the train was a grave offense. Each member of the Company knew this rule, they knew it was a rule that must not be broken. Of course one need not make a capture as did that savage brave; one need not, whirling by upon his desert horse, stoop sideways and lift to his side a screaming and unwilling bride. ”

“ Life, hope, fate, death; the helplessness of men—
The mystery of all weighed on me then!
Across the sled I laid pine-branches deep,
Placed Jo upon them in his endless sleep;
With his own blankets wrapped the body o'er—
Under their folds he'd dream of love no more—
And when I'd fitting made his bed at last,
With long, stout cords I tightly bound all fast;
Felt one deep surge of pain my breast within,
And, then—my course was ready to begin.
Then downward; downward, in pale light of dawn,
Down the steep slopes and ledges long outdrawn. ”

“ But Plet begged hard for little time of grace.
He to remove her from those scenes was fain,
She to look on them still would there remain.
How could she go and leave that new-made grave,
When, to be near, her only comfort gave?
Ah, all unlike is woman to the man!
And yet we know 'tis to some noble plan—
Man in his strength, the past lets go its way,
Though thus forever some great hope decay!
But woman, loving, tender, still clings fast,
And hopeless yearns until the very last;
Keeps sacred in her heart and holds supreme
Whate'er remains of her sweet broken dream. ”

“ The book is a reminder, old, battered, dusty, yet truthful, of what an ox-team journey across the western plains and over the Rockies was in the years that are gone.
The book so long neglected, now so full of interest, received hard usage in those former days. Before it lay at rest so long, gathering dust and cobwebs about it, like a true pioneer it was made to rough it in this world. It learned to withstand the brunt of many a hard encounter. Master and book were companions on a long and toilsome journey. ”

“ All glistening lay the snow beneath his light.
As we sped downwards in unbounded zeal
Our snow-shoes sent the spray from off our heel,
The mountain hare, behind some bank cowered low,
We sent in scurry wild across the snow.
You never then had truly guessed my years,
That I was mad with gladness plain appears!
Jo's hot young blood in me seemed to have place,
And merrily with him I kept the race.
To see them stand together, O, what joy—
Plet all in smiles beside my darling boy;
To hear the music of her gentle voice
Made every fiber in my heart rejoice. ”

“ But certainly there will come one soon, a long, shivering, almost moan-like sound, as the night wind begins to steal across the waste and gently stirs the prairie grass and flowers.
Yes, after those years it is the Human Comedy; it is the never-ending drama! It is the wonder of that which grows upon one. It is the desires, hopes, trials, pleasures, sorrows of the race! ”

“ With Plet and father climbing up the way.
What madness filled his brain to let her come?
The very sight with anguish struck me dumb.
I knew she struggled with her love in vain,
'Twas hopelessness that brought her once again.
The same wild flowers were growing by the lake,
As when she first came for my poor Jo's sake.
Can the eyes speak farewell? Oh! if they can,
How simple was the key to her sad plan.
She only came with her dead hope to part,
To be where love had entered in her heart! ”

“ All stuff and nonsense! Never hear them? What!
Their voices hear no more? Believe it not!
How! Voice of Jo or Plet not hear again?
Indeed! Pray whose voice was I hearing then?
Whose voice was that—bright, joyous, full and clear—
A voice that rang with every note of cheer!
Whose voice, indeed, if not the voice of Jo?—
And you'll concede I was the one to know.
My dear boy's voice as lusty as of old,—
Oh, no, he was not 'neath the graveyard mold! ”

“ Later, as the camp-fires were blazing, the full moon illuminated the fantastic scene.
Who of all those who traversed Echo Canon in [Pg 77] an ox-train will forget the shouting, the cracking of whips, the wild halloes, and the pistol-shots that resounded along the line, or the echoes, all confused by the multitude of sounds, and passing through each other like the concentric rings on a still pond when we throw in a handful of pebbles, flying from cliff to cliff, and away up in the shaggy ravine and seeming to come back at last from the sky. ”

“ The Christmas Eve—it weighed upon my heart,
It seemed the hot tears from my eyes must start;
In anguish o'er my brow I passed my hand,
Life seemed no surer than a rope of sand:
The Christmas Eve with dire importance fraught,
Plet and her father 'neath the wild snows caught;
72The Christmas Eve and Jo swept to his death,
Upon the jagged rocks to yield his breath,
And Christmas Eve again, and Plet asleep,
Where on the flat the snow lay cold and deep. ”

“ And so might then have been said of the Valley of the Platte. Day after day we trudged along, and day after day the red hills of sandstone looked down upon us, or the prairie, like the desert, stretched out its illimitable distance. The days grew into weeks, the weeks became a month, and still the cattle, freed from the yoke, hastened to slake their thirst at the [Pg 34] well-loved stream. During that month, surely, we ate, each one of us, the peck of dirt—if sand may be classed as dirt—which every man is said to eat in his life time. ”

“ We knew that the Indians who had done both the acts of driving away the cattle and applying the torch, were, in all likelihood, watching upon the road for us. Our Captain never allowed an inexperienced man to occupy too important a post, but the “tenderfoot” could serve as aid.
We, like ships that pass on the sea, sometimes spoke a returned. No gloomy recital of disappointment could turn us back. The Golden West was our goal, and those who returned were but, to us, the too timid ones. In truth, has not the dream of the Pioneer been fully realized? Those men and women who endured so much? ”

“ Speak or keep silent,—joy bring or despair!
One moment's action may prove as a knife,
The thread to cut and make or mar a life!
As thus I mused—what had I done for Jo?
Sudden he spoke—"'Twas right that we should go,"
53It startled me,—his words were but a chime;
'Twas clear our thoughts unspoken had kept time:
Who should he think of now if not of Plet?
Oh! how she would at his forced absence fret!
The yester-morn 'twas his desire to start,
But I, the elder, played the cautious part;
To try the slopes too dangerous did appear,—
To me the thought itself was madness sheer. ”

“ But this imperfect little sketch cannot reveal the truth, can only suggest. Nowhere are the clouds more wonderful than when over, never is solitude more impressive than in the open prairies.
The clouds, the clouds! Yes, through many a twilight hour, I watched, lying upon the tufted prairie as the camp-fires died away, the clouds. Weird was the hectic flushing, the glow of the [Pg 38] sheet lightning among the July and August cumuli. But these clouds in the sketch are filled with portent. Not only is the prairie darkened with the approach of night, but with the coming storm. ”

“ His virtues were not of the meaner kind,
They came from purity and clean desires.
28Not lack of passions strong, nor manly fires.
'Twas on a bright and noble summer day,
When fast the winter snow-drifts ebbed away;
The cloudless sky was like a crystal dome,
When Plet and father stood within "Our Home."
All nature blended in one vast, grand hymn
What time their nags came o'er the hollow's rim.
We saw them coming from our perch on high—
How quick the love-light sprang in poor Jo's eye!—
We hastened downward, Jo well on before,
And met them ere they reached the cabin door. ”

“ I mean into the lives and hearts of many. But come there new joy, or come there new sorrow, the Pioneer must live the pioneer’s life. There were always the labor, the privations, a certain kind of pleasure. There was left but little time in which to brood. Except, it may be, in the silent watches of the night. There was something remarkable, too, about the manner in which the cattle became imbued with the spirit of their driver. What individuality, for instance, there was among the cattle themselves, our own four yoke, I mean, it was modified by the driver. ”

“ And Plet, indeed, was lovely as a bride.
You'll guess, of course, as best man I stood there,
And heard "Good Wishes" heaped upon the pair.
For that flushed look of pride who could blame Jo—
As on Plet's lips he did the kiss bestow?
I think we might as well own up as not—
That single life is but a dreary lot!
I'll bother you no more about our claim,
Or what the mine itself in time became—
The miner often will too much expect,
Yet our first guess was far below correct. ”

“ There was a dead woman in the wagon next to ours, and to hear the weeping and sobbing of her little children, in the dark beside [Pg 46] the corpse, was heart chilling. The poor husband trudged along on foot hurrying his single yoke of footsore cattle. Still we were far behind; liable at any moment to be cut-off by the prowling Sioux. That was a night to remember.
Here are two scenes among the Black Hills themselves, one is a very suggestive sketch showing rocks, timber-clad bluffs, and ragged peaks with the wagons of our train coming down a deep declivity into a dry torrent bed. ”

“ They beat the lake into a misty cloud,
Or out of their deep bed the waters sweep,
To pass in hissing floods adown the steep.
Thus once had Jo and I beheld them fall,
A sight and sound the stoutest to appal.
'Twas more than once there came to me a thought,
Why tempt adversity more than one ought? ”

“ No more the long train of dust-covered wagons, drawn by the slow and patient oxen, winds across the level plains or passes through the deep defile. No more the Pony Express or the lumbering stage-coach bring the quickest word or forms the fastest transport between the inter-mountain region and “The States.” How hard it is to understand the briefness of time that has passed since this great interior country was practically a howling wilderness, inhabited by bands of savage Indians and penetrated only by intrepid trappers or hunters! ”

“ Their nags were hitched beneath a mighty spruce—
One grizzled, storm-worn arm stretched out for use—
And then—Oh! great, indeed, was Plet's delight,
When first she gazed upon the Babel height!
No less the gloom, the aged savageness,
Impressed her fancy than the gorgeous dress,
Brief summer lends to that high altitude
Between the fierce assaults of winter rude. ”

“ Youth, the desire for knowledge, the thirst for gold, these have led men into the wilds; it has taken them to brave unknown dangers in unknown lands. Yes, these, the Propaganda and the love of Freedom, but neither is stronger than the desire for Religious Liberty. ”

“ Striving from day to day to reach "the lead."
Across the debris lay a zig-zag track
Our feet had made in climbing up and back.
And 'tween our claim and cabin, lost in sleep,
A mountain lake lay cold, and dark, and deep.
17Three years we lived there—in that hollow stern,
The mountain's sights and voices well did learn.
Peered down the ledges sunk in watery gloom,
Beheld the flowers that exhaled rich perfume.
By the lake margin they in myriads grew—
Unfolded there the starry asters blue;
Around each boulder, ere the snow was old,
Came gleaming buttercups in rings of gold ”

“ From there would come the train of wagons in which the greater number of emigrants would make “the journey.” Often there was a false alarm. Each waiting emigrant, impatient of delay, would take some far-off cloud of dust to be that made by the expected wagons. But often it was only bands of frontiersmen, Indians, or perhaps a band of antelope. Would the train never come? How long this wait! At length, well I remember the morning, the word was passed! It was the wagons for the emigrants. The half-cooked breakfast and the camp-fires were left deserted. ”

“ Whose wondrous budding all the being thrills—
Of that enchantment grown between those two,
The fond desire their hearts together drew!
34 V.
After that day to Jo there came a change,—
Not that I thought the fact so very strange—
For love had come, oh! that was plain to see,
And from the first I felt 'twas a decree.
I knew Jo found a heart that Plet had lost,
And only feared their love might be ill-crossed.
Perhaps the boy was not without his hopes
The eve that Plet returned adown the slopes.
Now he abstracted grew and walked alone,
To fits of silent reverie was prone. ”

“ The second sketch in the book is a view near the Missouri River. It is looking westward and shows a Nebraska landscape with a prairie fire. The scene is, indeed, a very different one from what the place would present today. A great prairie fire is sweeping across the plain and the dense whirling mass of smoke, driven before the wind, and the principal feature of the sketch, overshadows with its darkness a far-reaching landscape of low, rolling hills, clumps of trees and a winding stream, in which, however, there is not a sign of human life visible. ”

“ Surely the locomotive plays a wondrous part in the destiny of modern nations. Without its aid the country through which we are about to pass might have become as was [Pg 24] surmised by Irving, the cradle of a race inimical to the higher civilization to the East and West. Now we behold it a land giving promise of future greatness, where peace, wealth and happiness shall go hand in hand, and where already it is well-nigh impossible for the youth of today to fully comprehend the struggles and privations of its pioneer fathers. ”

“ To him I guess 'twas fairest of all bowers—
The spot where he had offered Plet the flowers.
Oft when eve's shadows deepened into nights,
He'll look adown the slopes and watch the lights
That we could see within the distant camp,
Hoping, I knew, to see one special lamp—
Which hope was more than frequent not in vain—
The one that burned behind Plet's window pane.
Yes, he had grown as fond as any dove;
Beyond a doubt, poor Jo was deep in love!
37
VI.
Hurrah! hurrah! And true beyond a doubt!
Hurrah! hurrah! Had we not cause to shout?
She turned her wheel, the changeful, fickle witch ”