Kate Mulhall A romance of the Oregon Trail
and night. Some were using a scow ferry entirely inadequate to
accommodate the great numbers suddenly brought upon the scene; others
were crossing on rafts, and still others in their boat-shaped
wagon-boxes. A few had constructed "bull boats" (a light form of
willow twigs, with a buffalo hide bottom).
Douglas Craig, the new man of the Mulhall outfit, proved to be an
expert horseman and an all-around stockman; he soon managed to get
the cattle over, while Ben crossed the wagons. An account of the
experiences and daily incidents of even one such outfit as Mulhall's
in its slow progress westward would fill a larger volume than this.
So we will attempt only to briefly sketch the trials confronting the
bold pioneers who passed over the Oregon Trail in the early days
before the rivers were bridged, supply depots established or
protection from the Indians given by the Government.
"What's that dark shade on the land?" Kate asked her father as she
rode up to his carriage. Mulhall turned his glass in the direction
indicated for a moment and replied, "Why as I live, that's buffalo."
In the clear atmosphere of the plains an object many miles away often
seems near-by. Kate was ready in an instant to go and bag some big
game, but knew her mother would not consent; so she called to Ben,
{58} "Take my rifle and Nell, and get one. I'll drive your team."
By this time the whole line on the road had discovered the herd, and
nearly all the men were making preparations to join in the big hunt.
Just ahead there seemed to be a great commotion, teams turning out of
the road and horsemen riding furiously back and forth. One, racing
down the line, shouted in a loud voice, "Unhitch, unhitch; form
corrals with your wagons; a buffalo stampede is coming. Quick,
quick; don't shoot, don't shoot;" and like Paul Revere, he passed on
to repeat the warning.
Mulhall had fallen in with several independent outfits and in the
evenings the group had been forming a circle of wagons to guard
against the loss of stock and lighten the burden of the night-watch.
In a very short time the wagons were arranged and the loose stock
placed inside the circle; but the buffalo were all traveling in one
direction on their annual migration, not a stampede. Nothing but
some insurmountable obstacle could turn the herd from the course that
its almost incredible numbers were pursuing.
In their migratory movements buffalo are, as one might say,
controlled by instinct like birds of the air. Here was a living
mass, to all appearances one vast unit, passing over many miles of
the trail, each animal traveling in the same direction as if guided
by a compass or the North Star. The emigrants could do no more than
guard their own stock and let {59} the buffalo continue their
majestic procession for hours.
After the mass had gone on and only stragglers remained in sight, the
ban against shooting was removed and an exciting buffalo hunt was on.
Ben followed Kate's suggestion by taking Nell and trying with his
rifle to bring down a fat buffalo cow. Not being either an expert
horseman or a crack shot, he had a rather prolonged and exciting
race; but finally succeeded in securing a fine heifer. He could have
more easily shot an old buffalo, as many did; but was out more to add
to their depleted larder than for the excitement of the chase.
When Ben returned to camp it was evident that he was in virtual
collapse, his strength nearly gone and his pulse weak. Thoroughly
alarmed, mother Mulhall did everything she could to arouse him from
the stupor into which he had fallen, but all to no purpose. Kate
fairly ran over to the near-by camp for a doctor, who partially
revived him but cautioned him to be careful and patient for several
days. When questioned, the physician answered evasively as to a
possible fatal result.
An epidemic of cholera was ravaging the camps and taking a fearful
toll; only the day before the Squire and Catherine halted the
carriage before a newly made burying-ground and counted forty-four
graves, none more than three days old. Only those in the best of
health seemed immune from the scourge. Mother Mulhall reproached
herself for consenting to {60} let Ben go on the hunt, and retired to
pray in secret for his recovery.
Kate showed unmistakable evidences of deep grief, and also blamed
herself for having encouraged Ben to go; she remained by his bedside
throughout the night, and was reluctant to leave when morning came.
As the day wore on there were signs of recovery, and by the third day
he had sufficiently improved to warrant resuming their journey.
Meantime more than a thousand wagons had passed on, leaving many
detained in stricken camps to bury their dead.
Mulhall had been a witness to the great epidemic that lined the trail
for a thousand miles with uncounted graves of dead pioneers. He had
lost considerable weight on the way; how much he did not know, but
realized the fact by the fit of his clothes. Catherine said the
difference in food had wrought the change, to which the Squire
responded that in such case he would probably lose in strength, while
he felt stronger than for many years before. The fact gradually
dawned upon him that the regular exercise taken on the trip had
increased his strength while reducing his weight.
Under the hot sun Kate became tanned, but lost none of the fire in
her eye nor her cheerfulness of spirit, although her patience was
often tried by the wilful ways of the loose stock. The two little
sisters helped her part of the time, until the sand became too hot
for their bare feet; but were always welcomed {61} in the carriage
driven by their mother. When Ben was transferred to the carriage,
their place of refuge was gone; after that one at a time would ride
behind Kate, or she would often trudge along afoot while the two
little ones rode Nell.
All the past glamour of the trip had now gone out of Kate's mind; but
she could not admit to herself any regret that they were on the way
to Oregon. At least they were free from the hated question of
slavery! Then her mind would revert to Pelton, with the thought that
she might have been too rash in her manner of rejecting his advances;
had she known what her father knew--that Isaac intended at all
hazards to free his slaves--grief would have seized her in spite of
all efforts to restrain it.
Kate had intuitively come to discern what was in her father's mind
with reference to Ben, and believed that her mother felt the same way
as her father. When such thought came into her own mind, the vision
of Pelton rose above them all. Love Ben? Yes--as a brother; and
then she would try to think of something else.
"What's this?" Squire Mulhall asked aloud rather excitedly to
himself, stopping his team in the middle of the road. Soon both
wagons were driven to the outside, opening a passage for other teams
pressing on from behind. "What's happened, stranger that you are
here by the roadside with no team?" It needed only a short time to
explain that the family had started across the plains with a {62}
neighbor who owned a team; but after some altercation, the neighbor
became abusive, stopped and hurriedly pitched the bedding and
clothing of the others out of the wagon, driving on with all the
provisions.
"How long since?" the Squire asked. "About two hours ago," the
stranger answered. "Put your things in my other wagon and let your
wife and children get in here until we reach camp tonight," said the
Squire, thoroughly aroused and with indignation manifest in his
voice. "Perhaps we will overtake the brute by nightfall."
The family consisted of husband and wife, both apparently honest and
intelligent, and three small children, the oldest about eight.
Leaving his team in charge of the stranger as soon as they were back
on the road (which was literally filled with passing wagons and loose
stock), he soon found Kate; and taking Nell, rode on ahead as rapidly
as possible.
He soon encountered a train of a dozen wagons which had no sooner
been passed than another one of thirty was overtaken; each vehicle
closely followed the one in front, and to make headway it was
necessary to ride alongside the road, often obstructed by sage-brush.
That evening the Squire said he believed that he had been obliged to
go around at least five hundred wagons to gain five miles on the
moving trains, all the while keeping a sharp lookout for the outfit
which abandoned the family now traveling with him.
It was learned that the culprit, who had been {63} recognized by the
description, passed on just before dark and would probably travel all
night. Three armed men were mounted and given instructions to
continue on far enough during the night to be sure they were ahead of
the outfit, and then to stop and wait for it. Just at daylight they
overtook the guilty party and soon convinced him that resistance was
useless and submission to arrest his only safe course.
The "unwritten law" of the plains was a tacit consent that all
grievances, misdemeanors or accusations of crime must be laid before
a jury of elderly men; and no one should take the law into his own
hands--in a word, no mob violence. Squire Mulhall soon succeeded in
bringing together several of the older pioneers, who resolved to take
immediate action; swift and adequate justice was administered, and
the incident was almost immediately closed. This code of action
prevailed all along the line; no one was punished without a hearing,
but there were no delays on technicalities, or any appeals.
Mulhall's trail followed the track that Marcus Whitman had made from
the west bank of the Missouri River nearly two decades before, when
that famous missionary was on the way to overtake the expedition of
the American Fur Company before it reached the Indian tribe reported
as hostile to white men passing through their country. It will be
recalled how Dr. Whitman swam the Platte where it was a mile wide,
and re-crossed with the cattle until nearly exhausted, while Mrs.
Whitman and {64} Mrs. Spalding were towed over in a frail bullboat by
two Indian women swimming, accompanied by Indian boys who assisted
them heroically.
On the sixth day out from this river, definite information was
received that a camp of thirty Indian lodges was disputing the right
of the emigrants to proceed farther without payment of toll for each
wagon. A number of outfits which had already refused to pay were
encamped there; Mulhall considered this a wise move until he could
reconnoiter and find out just how serious the situation was.
After the rumor of the obstruction had been confirmed the evening
before, the firing of a rifle startled the camp. Unobserved, Kate
had slipped out of the camp with her rifle; if there was going to be
trouble with the Indians, she would have a fresh load in it. The
next day, when her father had concluded to go ahead and ascertain the
facts about the detention, Kate said she would go along.
Mulhall had not thought of taking arms with him; but Kate noticed
that a number had gone forward carrying their guns, and said it was
better to be prepared. Catherine firmly approved the move, and added
that they would put the camp in best shape possible for defense.
Experienced pioneers all agree that the most retiring and apparently
timid women usually were the most courageous in times of danger on
the plains, whether from Indians or other causes.
Kate mounted Ned, bareback, while her father {65} rode Nell. It was
a ride of six miles past several camps and many teams standing in the
road; and hundreds of excited men were found at the point of
detention. The place chosen by the Indians was a small ravine where
a recent washout had been bridged by a train of emigrants that had
passed on sometime previous.