Bushy a romance founded on fact
so badly as did Daddy Bob, the miner who made the bet. Late in the
night he came to the tent and awakened Mr. Sukolt, to be assured again
that Bushy would be all right in time. “I’ll pray that my first find
be a good one,” murmured the old man as he finally turned in for a few
hours sleep, “and by thunder! she shall have every gold nugget in it.”
CHAPTER XXXII
Two weeks after Bushy’s ride on the bucking broncho the train of miners
reached Whitestone, a place in the mountains where it was reported that
great gold strikes had been made. It was pretty high up, and nothing
but what was absolutely necessary to the maintenance of life had so far
been freighted there. The miners were living principally in tents. A
few log cabins had been built, but they were given up to the men with
families. Bushy was full of joy to learn that a Mr. Delaney had two
girls and one boy in his family, and that Mr. Hogan, with his wife and
a beautiful blue-eyed girl of seven, lived only a few yards from the
place where Mr. Sukolt pitched his tent. The nights were very cool, and
often it took both camp-fires and buffalo robes to keep the people warm
who lived in tents. Mr. Sukolt and Tom and Shanks concluded that their
first duty was to build a cabin.
“What good would a rich find do us if a storm came and caught us
without a house, and any of the four should get sick and die?” said Mr.
Sukolt. So, while the other men in the party went off and prospected
for gold, Bushy’s people cut pine-logs, and spent the first three
days in building three small cabins close together. One was for Bushy
to have all by herself and to be used in the day-time as a kind of
sitting-room. The other two were, one for a kitchen and one for a
sleeping-room for the men. The beds were made of pine-brush and autumn
leaves, with buffalo robes spread over them. Bushy had never lived in
such a beautiful home, for there was more room here than they had had
at Great Pine Mine. She was quite well now, and delighted in the work
of fixing up the room.
“Come over and help me,” said Bushy to Mollie Delaney on the third
morning. Mollie and Bushy had, until this time, simply looked at each
other; but Johnny, a boy of eight, had made up with Bushy on the first
day, and helped carry the leaves, and drove nails, and tagged after
Bushy wherever she went.
Mollie disappeared for a second; then came out of the cabin with a roll
of something under her arm.
“My father is a baker; don’t you want a loaf of bread?” said Mollie as
she reached Bushy. She thrust the loaf into Bushy’s hands, and then,
evidently thinking she had made friends, sat down on the bed to see if
it were as soft as hers.
It was a great thing to give a loaf of bread in those days, because
flour was at this time $60 a sack, and white bread was a luxury. Mr.
Delaney was baker for the camp.
“Your father must be a nice man,” murmured Bushy. She remembered the
time she had tried to make biscuits, and knew from experience it was a
rare art to be able to make bread well.
“He is a nice man when he doesn’t drink,” said Mollie. “He is awful
when the miners sell him whiskey. We all have to keep away from him.
That’s why I am glad to come over here now. Bill Murphy got a big
bottle of whiskey, when he went for the mail yesterday, and he sold it
to my father for ten loaves of bread. Dad’s drunk now in the cabin, and
when he wakes up we are going to keep him locked in till he gets sober
again.”
Bushy felt very sorry for Mollie, because her own father never drank,
neither did Shanks. Tom took a little once in a while, but not enough
to “kill a mosquito,” he said. The two girls played in the cabin,
fixing up everything they could find to make the place pretty, and
had forgotten all about Johnny and little Belle Hogan and the drunken
father. The mother had died of mountain fever months ago, so Mollie
was the housekeeper. Suddenly little Belle’s voice in a shrill scream
brought both girls to their feet, and with blanched faces they rushed
to the door and tried to get outside to see what was the matter. The
door stuck, and even with their united force would not open. Scream
after scream rent the air. Then came curses and growlings in a man’s
voice, followed by sharp cries from Johnny.
“Father is doing something dreadful!” gasped Mollie, and again she
tugged away at the door, but it would not open.
“The window!” shouted Bushy. She pulled Mollie toward the opening in
the wall that passed for a window and said, “Climb on my back and jump
out.”
“But aren’t you coming, too?” asked Mollie.
“Yes, yes!” answered Bushy, and when Mollie had jumped to the ground,
her playfellow was by her side in an instant.
“Oh, Dad! don’t, Dad!” cried Johnny.
“Mollie! Mollie! where are you?” wailed little Belle.
That was all the girls could hear as they ran in the direction of
Mollie’s home. They were obliged to go the full length of the three
new cabins, then around a jutting corner of rock that marked the flat
mountain top on which the few cabins had been built.
A terrible scene met the eyes of the two little girls as they rounded
the rock. Mr. Delaney had wakened up with his brain on fire from the
dreadful whiskey he had taken, and without saying a word he had softly
slipped up behind little Johnny, who was busy whittling. His father
gripped him with both hands, and before he knew what had happened
Johnny was astride a wild colt that one of the miners had tied to a
tree, meaning to break him for hauling logs the next day. The colt
could not get away, but kicked and jumped about, throwing Johnny,
of course, just as soon as his crazy father let go of him. It was a
miracle how the lad escaped being danced upon by the colt, but he did,
and started away on a run. Mr. Delaney was swifter than the boy, and
with a fiendish yell clapped his poor little son on the wild animal
again, saying: “It is capital fun; begorra, and it is, Johnny!”
It was just as Johnny was forced on the horse the second time that
Bushy and Mollie came in sight. The colt raced like mad, around and
around the tree. Finally, when he came near the log cabin where Mollie
lived, he bucked and kicked his hind feet so high that he almost went
over on his head. Mollie and Bushy stood still, almost paralyzed with
fear. Little Johnny flew high up in the air and then came down on the
slanting roof of the cabin. Bushy realized that something must be done
right away, and when Johnny rolled off and fell limp and still on the
rocky ground, she started to run as fast as she could in the opposite
direction. One would have thought that she was afraid, but Bushy had a
plan already formed, and she had to run if she hoped to carry it out.
Mr. Delaney went up to Johnny and tried to make him stand up, so he
could “ride the pretty horse again.”
“Oh, don’t leave us!” screamed Mollie, when she saw Bushy start for the
cabin.
“I must get a knife to cut the colt loose. Hurry and get me a lariat;
don’t you see he is going to put Johnny on again?”
Mollie was a brave girl when she knew what to do, so she started for
the rope. Little Belle had heard Bushy’s order as she stood trembling
like a leaf in the cabin door. She got the butcher-knife and met her
half way, but, quick as they had been, the crazy man had already tried
to throw Johnny once more on the colt’s back.
“If he gets Johnny on I must not cut the rope,” thought Bushy, “for
then the colt would surely kill him.” Ah! the colt jumped and left Mr.
Delaney still holding the unconscious boy in his hands.
“Hold up, Mr. Delaney, and let me help you!” called Bushy, and she
slyly slipped near the frightened colt and scared the animal farther
away. Then running to the tree she climbed it by grasping the sides
of the trunk with her knees and lifting herself up to where the rope
was tied. With one quick cut the halter was half severed. Another and
another made it so weak that a hard pull by the colt broke it in two,
and the creature dashed away down the mountain as much frightened as
any of the people he left behind.
“So that is your game, my little lady!” cried Mr. Delaney, and his
fiery eyes glared and his bloated face grew black with rage. He dropped
Johnny and started for Bushy. She had expected such a movement and fell
like a cat to the ground, screamed for Belle and Mollie to take Johnny
into the cabin and bar the door, then stuck the butcher-knife in her
belt, snatched the lariat out of Mollie’s hand and made ready to defend
herself. The lariat was of no use unless she could get room and time
to swing it. She decided to lead the frenzied man around the cabins,
mixing him up if possible, so she could get far enough away to make
the right swing and finally catch him in the loop. Mr. Delaney was not
“drunk in his legs.” He could run and walk as well as he ever did; his
drunkenness was in the brain, and he imagined that Bushy had cheated
him out of some fun, and he was going to punish her for it. While he
and Bushy were playing that awful hide and seek around first one cabin
and then the other, Mollie and Belle carried Johnny into the cabin and
barred the door, leaving little Belle inside and Mollie on the outside,
for Mollie wanted to help Bushy--she was no coward. There were no holes
big enough in the Delaney cabin for a person to climb in or out, and
feeling safe about Johnny and Belle, Mollie grew braver. She rushed
over to Mrs. Hogan’s cabin and pounded on the door, but got no reply.
It seemed very strange that there should be no one except the drunken
man and the three children in the camp.
“Bushy! Bushy!” she cried, “we must get into the cabin.”
“I dropped the butcher-knife and he has it. He is just as apt to hurt
himself as he is us,” Bushy panted, as she ran up to Mollie.
Mr. Delaney was not in sight, but could not be far away.
“You go back in the cabin and get a gun; is there one there?”
“Yes,” cried Mollie, excitedly; “but you wouldn’t shoot my father,
would you?”
“I could lame him, Mollie, just so he could not kill Johnny or any of
the rest of us. Where are all the people, I wonder.
“Get the revolver or gun or anything that will shoot, and be ready with
it at the door if he chases me there, and”----
A scream from Mollie made Bushy turn, and there close behind them was
the furious madman. Mollie ran toward the cabin, and little Belle, who
was watching through the cracks between the logs, opened the door and
let her in. Mollie grabbed the rifle and waited at the door for Bushy,
who, she supposed, was immediately behind her; but Bushy, who was a
faster runner, had got far enough away already and was swinging the
lariat preparing to catch the crazy man if possible. Mr. Delaney caught
sight of the rope as it swung toward him, and instead of dodging it, he
stupidly stood still and waited for it to fall. Bushy could scarcely
believe her eyes when she saw the loop quietly settle over him. With a
quick jerk she tightened the rope, and with another she threw the man
to the ground.
“Mollie, Mollie, come quick!” cried Bushy, in her fright and
excitement. She wound the rope about Mr. Delaney, binding him fast to a
tree, which he had gradually backed against. Mollie got an extra rope,
which the two girls added to the length of the lariat, and when at last
the man was safely bound, the children looked up to see the whole camp
hurrying toward them.
The miners were puzzled at first, till the girls told their story.
Then old Bob looked at the raving drunkard as he stood bound to the
tree--Bushy still held the end of the rope--and then turning to the
crowd that had gathered so suddenly around her, he said: “The find is
Bushy’s, by George! You don’t need to congratulate me any longer, boys.
There stands the owner of my first strike. Bless her!”