The cabin on the prairiePearson, C. H. (Charles Henry)
General
The cabin on the prairie
Pearson, C. H. (Charles Henry)
Frontier and pioneer life -- United States -- Juvenile fiction
"Factorize!" asked Tom, interrupting her; "what is that?"
"Why," said the mother, "if a man owes another, the creditor attaches
his wages, and when the man presents his bill to his employer, he
finds that he cannot pay him anything. In vain he went to distant
places to earn a subsistence. Shrewd lawyers were put upon his track;
he was ferretted out, until, discouraged, he came to me one day, and
said,--
"'Mary, the hounds are after me from morning till night. They dog my
steps wherever I go, and give me no chance to retrieve my fortunes. I
am going to the west; and it isn't right to hold you to your
engagement any longer, for I can never, on my part, fulfil it. The
odds are against me here, and, what is worse, I've lost my courage and
hope; I have come to bid you good by.'
"'If you do not care for me any longer,' I said, 'say so. You've
struggled hard, and have merited a better result; it isn't your fault
that you have failed. God forbid that I should break my promise. If
you must go west, you are not going alone. I shall go with you, and
shall this very night tell my parents all about my engagement, and get
their consent to our marriage.'
"He shook his head. But feeling that it had been cowardly in me not to
have mentioned the subject before, whatever the result might have
been, in a few words I frankly, and with a composure that surprised
myself, told them the whole story. My father was a quick-tempered,
imperious man, and my mother lived only for this world: the result
you can easily imagine. But I felt that my duty was plain; and we were
quietly married. Having a little money of my own, joining it with what
your father had by him, we started towards the setting sun. But what
was that?" said Mrs. Jones, stopping in her recital, as a strange
sound fell upon her ear.
It was a long, fiendish yell, swelling upon the still night air over
the unbroken solitudes of the prairie; it was most appalling. Tom and
his mother hastened to the window; they saw a noble buck, his antlers
held aloft, flying with his utmost speed, pursued by two dark-looking
objects, that gained rapidly on him.
"It's the gray wolf," said Tom, "chasing a deer. How I wish I had a
rifle! I could bring one of them down easy as not,"--as they dashed
by, with short, quick yells, following their prey into the woods that
skirted the river.
"I hope the poor creature will escape," said Mrs. Jones, with a sigh;
and she resumed her narrative. "I was not long in seeing, on our
journey out, that a dreadful change had been wrought in your father by
his business troubles. It had given him an unconquerable disgust of
society, which he has not yet outgrown, making him uneasy and restless
wherever he has been; and this, Tom, is the secret of his wandering
life; and this is why I never feel that I can complain at any of the
changes in our hard, unsettled career as a family."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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