Tracks of a Rolling Stone [67]
go anywhere without my own French cook.' He kept his word, to the end of his life, I believe.
It was a delightful repose, a complete forgetting, for a night at any rate, of all impending care. Each was cheered and strengthened for the work to come. The spirit of enterprise, the love of adventure restored for the moment, believed itself a match for come what would. The very animals seemed invigorated by the rest and the abundance of rich grass spreading as far as we could see. The morning was bright and cool. A delicious bath in the Sweetwater, a breakfast on fried ham and coffee, and once more in our saddles on the way back to camp, we felt (or fancied that we felt) prepared for anything.
That is just what we were not. Samson and the men, meeting with no game where we had left them, had moved on that afternoon in search of better hunting grounds. The result was that when we overtook them, we found five mules up to their necks in a muddy creek. The packs were sunk to the bottom, and the animals nearly drowned or strangled. Fred and I rushed to the rescue. At once we cut the ropes which tied them together; and, setting the men to pull at tails or heads, succeeded at last in extricating them.
Our new-born vigour was nipped in the bud. We were all drenched to the skin. Two packs containing the miserable remains of our wardrobe, Fred's and mine, were lost. The catastrophe produced a good deal of bad language and bad blood. Translated into English it came to this: 'They had trusted to us, taking it for granted we knew what we were about. What business had we to "boss" the party if we were as ignorant as the mules? We had guaranteed to lead them through to California [!] and had brought them into this "almighty fix" to slave like niggers and to starve.' There was just truth enough in the Jeremiad to make it sting. It would not have been prudent, nay, not very safe, to return curse for curse. But the breaking point was reached at last. That night I, for one, had not much sleep. I was soaked from head to foot, and had not a dry rag for a change. Alternate fits of fever and rigor would alone have kept me awake; but renewed ponderings upon the situation and confirmed convictions of the peremptory necessity of breaking up the party, forced me to the conclusion that this was the right, the only, course to adopt.
For another twenty-four hours I brooded over my plans. Two main difficulties confronted me: the announcement to the men, who might mutiny; and the parting with Fred, which I dreaded far the most of the two. Would he not think it treacherous to cast him off after the sacrifices he had made for me? Implicitly we were as good as pledged to stand by each other to the last gasp. Was it not mean and dastardly to run away from the battle because it was dangerous to fight it out? Had friendship no claims superior to personal safety? Was not my decision prompted by sheer selfishness? Could anything be said in its defence?
Yes; sentiment must yield to reason. To go on was certain death for all. It was not too late to return, for those who wished it. And when I had demonstrated, as I could easily do, the impossibility of continuance, each one could decide for himself. The men were as reckless as they were ignorant. However they might execrate us, we were still their natural leaders: their blame, indeed, implied they felt it. No sentimental argument could obscure this truth, and this conviction was decisive.
The next night and the day after were, from a moral point of view, the most trying perhaps, of the whole journey. We had halted on a wide, open plain. Due west of us in the far distance rose the snowy peaks of the mountains. And the prairie on that side terminated in bluffs, rising gradually to higher spurs of the range. When the packs were thrown off, and the men had turned, as usual, to help themselves to supper, I drew Fred aside and imparted my resolution to him. He listened to it calmly - much more so than
It was a delightful repose, a complete forgetting, for a night at any rate, of all impending care. Each was cheered and strengthened for the work to come. The spirit of enterprise, the love of adventure restored for the moment, believed itself a match for come what would. The very animals seemed invigorated by the rest and the abundance of rich grass spreading as far as we could see. The morning was bright and cool. A delicious bath in the Sweetwater, a breakfast on fried ham and coffee, and once more in our saddles on the way back to camp, we felt (or fancied that we felt) prepared for anything.
That is just what we were not. Samson and the men, meeting with no game where we had left them, had moved on that afternoon in search of better hunting grounds. The result was that when we overtook them, we found five mules up to their necks in a muddy creek. The packs were sunk to the bottom, and the animals nearly drowned or strangled. Fred and I rushed to the rescue. At once we cut the ropes which tied them together; and, setting the men to pull at tails or heads, succeeded at last in extricating them.
Our new-born vigour was nipped in the bud. We were all drenched to the skin. Two packs containing the miserable remains of our wardrobe, Fred's and mine, were lost. The catastrophe produced a good deal of bad language and bad blood. Translated into English it came to this: 'They had trusted to us, taking it for granted we knew what we were about. What business had we to "boss" the party if we were as ignorant as the mules? We had guaranteed to lead them through to California [!] and had brought them into this "almighty fix" to slave like niggers and to starve.' There was just truth enough in the Jeremiad to make it sting. It would not have been prudent, nay, not very safe, to return curse for curse. But the breaking point was reached at last. That night I, for one, had not much sleep. I was soaked from head to foot, and had not a dry rag for a change. Alternate fits of fever and rigor would alone have kept me awake; but renewed ponderings upon the situation and confirmed convictions of the peremptory necessity of breaking up the party, forced me to the conclusion that this was the right, the only, course to adopt.
For another twenty-four hours I brooded over my plans. Two main difficulties confronted me: the announcement to the men, who might mutiny; and the parting with Fred, which I dreaded far the most of the two. Would he not think it treacherous to cast him off after the sacrifices he had made for me? Implicitly we were as good as pledged to stand by each other to the last gasp. Was it not mean and dastardly to run away from the battle because it was dangerous to fight it out? Had friendship no claims superior to personal safety? Was not my decision prompted by sheer selfishness? Could anything be said in its defence?
Yes; sentiment must yield to reason. To go on was certain death for all. It was not too late to return, for those who wished it. And when I had demonstrated, as I could easily do, the impossibility of continuance, each one could decide for himself. The men were as reckless as they were ignorant. However they might execrate us, we were still their natural leaders: their blame, indeed, implied they felt it. No sentimental argument could obscure this truth, and this conviction was decisive.
The next night and the day after were, from a moral point of view, the most trying perhaps, of the whole journey. We had halted on a wide, open plain. Due west of us in the far distance rose the snowy peaks of the mountains. And the prairie on that side terminated in bluffs, rising gradually to higher spurs of the range. When the packs were thrown off, and the men had turned, as usual, to help themselves to supper, I drew Fred aside and imparted my resolution to him. He listened to it calmly - much more so than