Buckskin Mose: Or, Life From the Lakes to the Pacific, as Actor, Circus-Rider, Detective, Ranger, Gold-Digger, Indian Scout, and Guide. — John Shaqi
Buckskin Mose: Or, Life From the Lakes to the Pacific, as Actor, Circus-Rider, Detective, Ranger, Gold-Digger, Indian Scout, and Guide.Perrie, George W.
History
Buckskin Mose: Or, Life From the Lakes to the Pacific, as Actor, Circus-Rider, Detective, Ranger, Gold-Digger, Indian Scout, and Guide.
Perrie, George W.
Frontier and pioneer life -- West (U.S.) -- Fiction; Latter Day Saints -- Fiction; Western stories
We afterwards found that he skulked round the town. Nor did he join the
train again until it reached Mountain Meadows. If I can fairly estimate
a man's thoughts by the expression of his face, I should candidly say
that Captain Crim's features betrayed as little pleasure at seeing him
again, as I undoubtedly felt. He had necessarily heard of this
occurrence, although he never in any way alluded to it, when chancing to
speak with me.
The natural excitement of this affair caused a relapse, and it became
apparent that I must have some positive rest from the wear and tear of
the journey. It was consequently decided that I should remain at Roop's
Ranche, when we reached that place. With great kindness, Brighton Bill
decided upon accompanying me there.
But at this time, the only suit of clothes I possessed were those I
stood up in, and these had been, by travel, hardship, and exposure,
reduced to so thoroughly a dilapidated condition, that each separate
garment barely held together. In addition to this, they were worn out
both at the knees and elbows. While I was disconsolately thinking of
this, Bill had been occupied in looking through the various wagons.
Suddenly I heard my name pealing joyously from his lips.
"Hi! Mose. Look 'ere!"
Yes! It was, unequivocally, a carpet-bag which belonged to me. My
theatrical wardrobe had departed from me. Very probably this precious
waif from my baggage contained all that I needed. Judge what my disgust
must have been, when, on opening it, I drew forth one pair of corduroy
knee-breeches, a scarlet waistcoat, and a long frieze coat. It was
nothing, more nor less, than the complete stage costume of an Irish
peasant, which I now remembered having stowed away in the carpet-bag,
for the sake of packing my more reputable daily clothes where they might
lie flat, without the chance of creasing more than necessary.
I was too weak to swear, and far too depressed in spirit even to
grumble. These clothes were, at any rate, sound and whole. This was a
point in their favor. So I decided upon wearing them.
On finding myself at the ranche, I was a decided object of curiosity and
jeering comment to those with whom I was about to make my temporary
home. Having very little money, and being still too weak to work, the
immediate prospect was by no means a cheering one. While I was gazing
round me, Governor Roop came by, and seized with no unnatural wonder at
the unusual clothes of the new inhabitant, paused to question me. Had I
been in good health at the time, it may be presumed that my tongue would
readily have found words. Now, my teeth seemed to stick together, and my
lips could not move. It appeared to me I was like some sailor stranded
upon a strange shore, without any help, among treacherous and jeeringly
inhospitable natives.
[Illustration: "On finding myself at the ranche, I was a decided object
of curiosity and jeering comment to those with whom I was about to make
my temporary home."--_Page 92._]
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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