Lost Lenore: The Adventures of a Rolling StoneReid, Mayne
General
Lost Lenore: The Adventures of a Rolling Stone
Reid, Mayne
Adventure stories; Dime novels; Fiction
Sometimes we would reach a stream, where a bridge had to be built or
repaired; and two or three days would be spent at the work. The draught
horses and oxen would die, or, becoming unable to proceed farther, would
have to be left behind. The strength of our teams was being constantly
weakened--until they were unable to draw the heavily loaded waggons; and
it became necessary to abandon a portion of their contents--which were
thrown away upon the prairies. The first articles thus abandoned, were
carpets and other useless things, not required on the journey, but which
to please the women, or at their instigation, had been put into the
waggons at starting, and dragged for six or seven hundred miles!
The dogs, that, at the commencement of the journey, had for each mile of
the road, travelled about three times that distance, having worn the
skin from the soles of their feet, now crawled along after the waggons
without taking one unnecessary step. They seemed at length to have
reached the comprehension: that the journey was to be a protracted one;
and that while undertaking it, the idle amusement of chasing birds was
not true canine wisdom.
I shall not startle my leaders with a recital of any remarkable
adventures we had with the hostile Indians: for the simple reason that
we had none. They gave us much trouble for all that: since our fear of
encountering them, kept us constantly on the alert--one of our party,
and some times more, standing sentry over the camp throughout the whole
of every night.
If my readers reason aright, they will give me credit for not drawing on
my imagination for any part of this narrative. They may easily perceive
that, by thus eschewing the subject of an encounter with Indians, I lose
an excellent opportunity for embellishing my true tale with an
introduction of fiction.
As we approached the termination of our journey, the teams became
weaker--until it took all of them united in one yoke to draw a single
waggon, containing only the youngest of the children, and a few pounds
of necessary provisions!
The old ladies, along with their daughters, performed the last hundred
miles of the journey on foot; and when we at length reached the first
settlement--on the other side of the mountains--a band of more wretched
looking individuals could scarce have been seen elsewhere. My own
appearance was no exception to that of my companions. My hat was a
dirty rag wrapped around my head like a turbann while my boots were
nothing more than pieces of buffalo hide, tied around my feet with
strings. For all this, I was as well dressed as any of the party.
My agreement with old Johnson was now fulfilled; and I was at liberty to
leave him. I was anxious to be off to the diggings, where his eldest
son, James, a young man about twenty years old, proposed accompanying
me. Old Johnson declined going to the diggings himself--his object in
coming to California being to "locate" a farm, while the country was
still "young."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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