Part 21

Our meals were brought to us by Bryant from the soldiers' mess, and as the cook was only a pick-up, they were often a mess indeed, but every effort was made to have them nice. The day after we got there the cook evidently made up his mind that some recognition should be shown of the honor of my presence in the woods, so he made a big fat pie for my dinner. It was really fat, for the crust must have been mostly of lard, and the poor man had taken much pains with the decorations of twisted rings and little balls that were on the top. It really looked very nice as Bryant set it down on the table in front of me, with an air that the most dignified of butlers might have envied, and said, "Compliments of the cook, ma'am!" Of course I was, and am still, delighted with the attention from the cook, but for some reason I was suspicious of that pie, it was so very high up, so I continued to talk about it admiringly until after Bryant had gone from the cabin, and then I tried to cut it! The filling--and there was an abundance--was composed entirely of big, hard raisins that still had their seeds in. The knife could not cut them, so they rolled over on the table and on the floor, much like marbles. I scooped out a good-sized piece as well as I could, gathered up the runaway raisins, and then--put it in the stove.

And this I did at every dinner while I was there, almost trembling each time for fear Bryant would come in and discover how the pie was being disposed of. It lasted long, for I could not cut off a piece for Faye, as Bryant had given us to understand in the beginning that the chef d'oeuvre was for me only.

Nothing pleases me more than to have the enlisted men pay me some little attention, and when the day after the pie a beautiful little gray squirrel was brought to me in a nice airy box, I was quite overcome. He is very much like Billie in size and color, which seems remarkable, since Billie was from the far South and this little fellow from the far North. I wanted to take him out of the box at once, but the soldier said he would bite, and having great respect for the teeth of a squirrel, I let him stay in his prison while we were out there.

The first time I let him out after we got home he was frantic, and jumped on the mantel, tables, and chairs, scattering things right and left. Finally he started to run up a lace window curtain back of the sewing machine. On top of the machine was a plate of warm cookies that Charlie had just brought to me, and getting a sniff of those the squirrel stopped instantly, hesitated just a second, and then over he jumped, took a cookie with his paws and afterwards held it with his teeth until he had settled himself comfortably, when he again took it in his paws and proceeded to eat with the greatest relish. After he had eaten all he very well could, he hid the rest back of the curtain in quite an at-home way. There was nothing at all wonderful in all this, except that the squirrel was just from the piney woods where warm sugar cakes are unknown, so how did he know they were good to eat?

I was at the saw-mill four days, and then we all came in together and on bob sleds. There were four mules for each sleigh, so not much attention was paid to the great depth of snow. Both horses knew when we got to the bridge and gave Bryant trouble. Every bit of the trail out had been obliterated by drifting snow, and I still wonder how these animals recognized the precise spot when the snow was level in every place.

We found the house in excellent order, and consider our new Chinaman a treasure. A few days before Faye went to the mill I made some Boston brown bread. I always make that myself, as I fancy I can make it very good, but for some reason I was late in getting it on to steam that day, so when I went to the kitchen to put it in the oven I found a much-abused Chinaman. When he saw what I was about to do he became very angry and his eyes looked green. He said, "You no put him in l'oven." I said, "Yes, Charlie, I have to for one hour." He said, "You no care workman, you sploil my dee-nee, you get some other boy."

Now Charlie was an excellent servant and I did not care to lose him, but to take that bread out was not to be considered. I would no longer have been mistress of my own house, so I told him quietly, "Very well," and closed the oven door with great deliberation. The dinner was a little better than usual, and I wondered all the time what the outcome would be. I knew that he was simply piqued because I had not let him make the bread. After his work was all done he came in and said, with a smile that was almost a grin, "I go now--I send 'nother boy," and go he did. But the "other boy" came in time to give us a delicious breakfast, and everything went on just the same as when old Charlie was here. He is in Bozeman and comes to see us often.

This Charlie takes good care of my chickens that are my pride and delight. There are twenty, and every one is snow white; some have heavy round topknots. I found them at different ranches. It is so cold here that chicken roosts have to be covered with strips of blanket and made flat and broad, so the feathers will cover the chickens' feet, otherwise they will be frozen. It is a treat to have fresh eggs, and without having to pay a dollar and a half per dozen for them. That is the price we have paid for eggs almost ever since we came to the Territory.

FORT ELLIS, MONTANA TERRITORY, June, 1880.

EVERYTHING is packed and on the wagons--that is, all but the camp outfit which we will use on the trip over--and in the morning we will start on our way back to Fort Shaw. With the furniture that belongs to the quarters and the camp things, we were so comfortable in our own house we decided that there was no necessity to go to Mrs. Adams's, except for dinner and breakfast, although both General and Mrs. Adams have been most hospitable and kind.

The way these two moves have come about seems very funny to me. Faye was ordered over here to command C Company when it was left without an officer, because he was senior second lieutenant in the regiment and entitled to it. The captain of this company has been East on recruiting service, and has just been relieved by Colonel Knight, captain of Faye's company at Shaw; as that company is now without an officer, the senior second lieutenant has to return and command his own company. This recognition of a little rank has been expensive to us, and disagreeable too. The lieutenants are constantly being moved about, often details that apparently do not amount to much but which take much of their small salary.

The Chinaman is going with us, for which I am most thankful, and at his request we have decided to take the white chickens. Open boxes have been made specially for them that fit on the rear ends of the wagons, and we think they will be very comfortable--but we will certainly look like emigrants when on the road. The two squirrels will go also. The men of the company have sent me three squirrels during the winter. The dearest one of all had been injured and lived only a few days. The flying squirrel is the least interesting and seems stupid. It will lie around and sleep during the entire day, but at dark will manage to get on some high perch and flop down on your shoulder or head when you least expect it and least desire it, too. The little uncanny thing cannot fly, really, but the webs enable it to take tremendous leaps. I expect that it looks absurd for us to be taking across the country a small menagerie, but the squirrels were presents, and of course had to go, and the chickens are beautiful, and give us quantities of eggs. Besides, if we had left the chickens, Charlie might not have gone, for he feeds them and watches over them as if they were his very own, and looks very cross if the striker gives them even a little corn.

Night before last an unusually pleasant dancing party was given by Captain McAndrews, when Faye and I were guests of honor. It was such a surprise to us, and so kind in Captain McAndrews to give it, for he is a bachelor. Supper was served in his own quarters, but dancing was in the vacant set adjoining. The rooms were beautifully decorated with flags, and the fragrant cedar and spruce. Mrs. Adams, wife of the commanding officer, superintended all of the arrangements and also assisted in receiving. The supper was simply delicious--as all army suppers are--and I fancy that she and other ladies of the garrison were responsible for the perfect salads and cakes.

The orchestra was from Bozeman, so the music was very good. Quite a party of young people also, many of them friends of ours, came up from Bozeman, which not only swelled the number of guests, but gave life to the dance, for in a small garrison like this the number of partners is limited. The country about here is beautiful now; the snow is melting on the mountains, and there is such a lovely green every place, I almost wish that we might have remained until fall, for along the valleys and through the canons there are grand trails for horseback riding, while Fort Shaw has nothing of the kind.

FORT SHAW, MONTANA TERRITORY, July, 1880.

WE are with the commanding officer and his wife for a few days while our house is being settled. Every room has just been painted and tinted and looks so clean and bright. The Chinaman, squirrels, and chickens are there now, and are already very much at home, and Charlie is delighted that the chickens are so much admired.

The first part of the trip over was simply awful! The morning was beautiful when we left Ellis--warm and sunny--and everybody came to see us oft. We started in fine spirits, and all went well for ten or twelve miles, when we got to the head waters of the Missouri, where the three small rivers, Gallatin, Jefferson, and Madison join and make the one big river. The drive through the forest right there is usually delightful, and although we knew that the water was high in the Gallatin by Fort Ellis, we were wholly unprepared for the scene that confronted us when we reached the valley. Not one inch of ground could be seen--nothing but the trees surrounded; by yellow, muddy water that showed quite a current.

The regular stage road has been made higher than the ground because of these July freshets, when the snow is melting on the mountains, but it was impossible to keep on it, as its many turns could not be seen, and it would not have helped much either, as the water was deep. The ambulance was in the lead, of course, so we were in all the excitement of exploring unseen ground. The driver would urge the mules, and if the leaders did not go down, very good--we would go on, perhaps a few yards. If they did go down enough to show that it was dangerous that way, he would turn them in another direction and try there. Sometimes it was necessary almost to turn around in order to keep upon the higher ground. In this way mules and drivers worked until four o'clock in the afternoon, the dirty water often coming up over the floor of the ambulance, and many times it looked as if we could not go on one step farther without being upset in the mud and water.

But at four we reached an island, where there was a small house and a stable for the stage relay horses, and not far beyond was another island where Faye decided to camp for the night. It was the only thing he could have done. He insisted upon my staying at the house, but I finally convinced him that the proper place for me was in camp, and I went on with him. The island was very small, and the highest point above water could not have been over two feet. Of course everything had to be upon it--horses, mules, wagons, drivers, Faye and I, and the two small squirrels, and the chickens also. In addition to our own traveling menagerie there were native inhabitants of that island--millions and millions of mosquitoes, each one with a sharp appetite and sharp sting. We thought that we had learned all about vicious mosquitoes while in the South, but the Southern mosquitoes are slow and caressing in comparison to those Montana things.

It was very warm, and the Chinaman felt sorry for the chickens shut up in the boxes, where fierce quarrels seemed to be going on all the time. So after he had fed them we talked it over, and decided to let them out, as they could not possibly get away from us across the big body of water. There were twenty large chickens in one big box, and twenty-seven small ones that had been brought in a long box by themselves. Well, Charlie and one of the men got the boxes down and opened them. At once the four or five mother hens clucked and scratched and kept on clucking until the little chicks were let out, when every one of them ran to its own mother, and each hen strutted off with her own brood. That is the absolute truth, but is not all. When night came the chickens went back to their boxes to roost--all but the small ones. Those were left outside with their mothers, and just before daylight Charlie raised a great commotion when he put them up for the day's trip.

When we were about ready to start in the morning, a man came over from the house and told Faye that he would pilot us through the rest of the water, that it was very dangerous in places, where the road had been built up, and if a narrow route was not carefully followed, a team would go down a bank of four or five feet. He had with him just the skeleton of a wagon--the four wheels with two or three long boards on top, drawn by two horses. So we went down in the dirty water again, that seemed to get deeper and deeper as we splashed on.

Now and then I could catch a glimpse of our pilot standing up on the boards very much like a circus rider, for the wagon wheels were twisting around over the roots of trees and stones, in a way that required careful balancing on his part. We got along very well until about noon, when a soldier came splashing up on a mule and told Faye that one of the wagons had turned over! That was dreadful news and made me most anxious about the trunks and chests, and the poor chickens, too, all of which might be down under the water.

They got the ambulance under some trees, unfastened the mules and led them away, leaving me alone, without even the driver. The soldier had thoughtfully led up Pete for Faye to ride back, and the mules were needed to assist in pulling the wagon up. Fortunately the wagon was caught by a tree and did not go entirely over, and it so happened, too, that it was the one loaded more with furniture than anything else, so not much damage was done.

Our pilot had left us some time before, to hurry on and get any passengers that might come in the stage that runs daily between Helena and Bozeman. As soon as I began to look around a little after I was left alone in the ambulance, I discovered that not so very far ahead was an opening in the trees and bushes, and that a bit of beautiful dry land could be seen. I was looking at it with longing eyes when suddenly something came down the bank and on into the water, and not being particularly brave, I thought of the unprotected position I was in. But the terrible monster turned out to be our pilot, and as he came nearer, I saw that he had something on the wagon--whether men or women or mere bags of stuff I could not tell.

But in time he got near enough for me to see that two men were with him--most miserable, scared tourists--both standing up on the seesawing boards, the first with arms around the pilot's neck, and the second with his arms around him. They were dressed very much alike, each one having on his head an immaculate white straw hat, and over his coat a long--very long--linen duster, and they both had on gloves! Their trousers were pulled up as high as they could get them, giving a fine display of white hose and low shoes. The last one was having additional woe, for one leg of his trousers was slipping down, and of course it was impossible for him to pull it up and keep his balance. Every turn of the wheels the thick yellow water was being spattered on them, and I can imagine the condition they were in by the time they reached the little inn on the island. The pilot thought they were funny, too, for when he passed he grinned and jerked his head back to call my attention to them. He called to know what had happened to me, and I told him that I was a derelict, and he would ascertain the cause farther on.

After a while--it seemed hours to me--Faye and the wagons came up, and in time we got out of the awful mess and on dry land. It was the Fourth of July, and we all wished for a gun or something that would make a loud noise wherewith we could celebrate--not so much the day as our rejoicing at getting out of the wilderness. The men were in a deplorable condition, wet and tired, for no one had been able to sleep the night before because of the vicious mosquitoes and the stamping of the poor animals. So, when Faye saw one of the drivers go to a spring for water, and was told that it was a large, fine spring, he decided to camp right there and rest before going farther.

But rest we could not, for the mosquitoes were there also, and almost as bad as they had been on the island, and the tents inside were covered with them as soon as they were pitched. If there is a person who thinks that a mosquito has no brain, and is incapable of looking ahead, that person will soon learn his mistake if ever he comes to the Missouri River, Montana! The heat was fierce, too, and made it impossible for us to remain in the tents, so we were obliged, after all, to sit out under the trees until the air had cooled at night sufficiently to chill the mosquitoes.

The chickens were let out at every camp, and each time, without fail, they flew up to their boxes on the wagons. Charlie would put in little temporary roosts, that made them more comfortable, and before daylight every morning he would gather up the little ones and the mothers and put them in the crates for the day. He is willing and faithful, but has queer ideas about some things. Just as I was getting in the ambulance the second morning on the trip, I heard a crunching sound and then another, and looking back, I saw the Chinaman on top of the mess chest with head bent over and elbows sticking out, jumping up and down with all his strength.