Tracks Of A Rolling Stone by Henry J. Coke (top ten books of all time .TXT) 📕

Again.  After This The Kettle Was Never Robbed.  Four Days

Later We Were Annoyed With Such A Stench That It Was A

Question Of Shifting Our Quarters.  In Hunting For The

Nuisance Amongst The Thicket Of Wormwood,  The Dead Wolf Was

Discovered Not Twenty Yards From Our Centre.

The Reader Would Not Thank Me For An Account Of The

Monotonous Drudgery,  The Hardships,  The Quarrellings,  Which

Grew Worse From Day To Day After We Left Fort Laramie.  Fred

And I Were About The Only Two Who Were On Speaking Terms; We

Clung To Each Other,  As A Sort Of Forlorn Security Against

Coming Disasters.  Gradually It Was Dawning On Me That,  Under

The Existing Circumstances,  The Fulfilment Of My Hopes Would

Be (As Fred Had Predicted) An Impossibility; And That To

Persist In The Attempt To Realise Them Was To Court

Destruction.  As Yet,  I Said Nothing Of This To Him.  Perhaps

I Was Ashamed To.  Perhaps I Secretly Acknowledged To Myself

That He Had Been Wiser Than I,  And That My Stubbornness Was

Responsible For The Life Itself Of Every One Of The Party.

Doubtless Thoughts Akin To These Must Often Have Haunted The

Mind Of My Companion; But He Never Murmured; Only Uttered A

Hasty Objurgation When Troubles Reached A Climax,  And 

Invariably Ended With A Burst Of Cheery Laughter Which Only

The Sulkiest Could Resist.  It Was After A Day Of Severe

Trials He Proposed That We Should Go Off By Ourselves For A

Couple Of Nights In Search Of Game,  Of Which We Were Much In

Need.  The Men Were Easily Persuaded To Halt And Rest. 

Samson Had Become A Sort Of Nonentity.  Dysentery Had

Terribly Reduced His Strength,  And With It Such Intelligence

As He Could Boast Of.  We Started At Daybreak,  Right Glad To

Be Alone Together And Away From The Penal Servitude To Which

We Were Condemned.  We Made For The Sweetwater,  Not Very Far

From The Foot Of The South Pass,  Where Antelope And Black-

Tailed Deer Abounded.  We Failed,  However,  To Get Near Them -

Stalk After Stalk Miscarried.

Disappointed And Tired,  We Were Looking Out For Some Snug

Little Hollow Where We Could Light A Fire Without Its Being

Seen By The Indians,  When,  Just As We Found What We Wanted, 

An Antelope Trotted Up To A Brow To Inspect Us.  I Had A

Fairly Good Shot At Him And Missed.  This Disheartened Us

Both.  Meat Was The One Thing We Now Sorely Needed To Save

The Rapidly Diminishing Supply Of Hams.  Fred Said Nothing, 

But I Saw By His Look How This Trifling Accident Helped To

Depress Him.  I Was Ready To Cry With Vexation.  My Rifle Was

My Pride,  The Stag Of My Life - My Alter Ego.  It Was Never

Out Of My Hands; Every Day I Practised At Prairie Dogs,  At

Sage Hens,  At A Mark Even If There Was No Game.  A Few Days

Before We Got To Laramie I Had Killed,  Right And Left,  Two

Wild Ducks,  The Second On The Wing; And Now,  When So Much

Depended On It,  I Could Not Hit A Thing As Big As A Donkey. 

The Fact Is,  I Was The Worse For Illness.  I Had Constant

Returns Of Fever,  With Bad Shivering Fits,  Which Did Not

Improve The Steadiness Of One's Hand.  However,  We Managed To

Get A Supper.  While We Were Examining The Spot Where The

Antelope Had Stood,  A Leveret Jumped Up,  And I Knocked Him

Over With My Remaining Barrel.  We Fried Him In The One Tin

Plate We Had Brought With Us,  And Thought It The Most

Delicious Dish We Had Had For Weeks.

As We Lay Side By Side,  Smoke Curling Peacefully From Our

Pipes,  We Chatted Far Into The Night,  Of Other Days - Of

Cambridge,  Of Our College Friends,  Of London,  Of The Opera, 

Of Balls,  Of Women - The Last A Fruitful Subject - And Of The

Future.  I Was Vastly Amused At His Sudden Outburst As Some

Start Of One Of The Horses Picketed Close To Us Reminded Us

Of The Actual Present.  'If Ever I Get Out Of This D-D Mess,'

He Exclaimed,  'I'll Never 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 I Had Expected. 

Yet It Was Easy To See By His Unusual Seriousness That He

Fully Weighed The Gravity Of The Purpose.  All He Said At The

Time Was,  'Let Us Talk It Over After The Men Are Asleep.'

We Did So.  We Placed Our Saddles Side By Side - They Were

Our Regular Pillows - And,  Covering Ourselves With The Same

Blanket,  Well Out Of Ear-Shot,  Discussed The Proposition From

Every Practical Aspect.  He Now Combated My Scheme,  As I

Always Supposed He Would,  By Laying Stress Upon Our Bond Of

Friendship.  This Was Met On My Part By The Arguments Already

Set Forth.  He Then Proposed An Amendment,  Which Almost Upset

My Decision.  'It Is True,' He Admitted,  'That We Cannot Get

Through As We Are Going Now; The Provisions Will Not Hold Out

Another Month,  And It Is Useless To Attempt To Control The

Men.  But There Are Two Ways Out Of The Difficulty:  We Can

Reach Salt Lake City And Winter There; Or,  If You Are Bent On

Going To California,  Why Shouldn't We Take Jacob And Nelson

(The Canadian),  Pay Off The Rest Of The Brutes,  And Travel

Together,  - Us Four?'

Whether 'Das Ewig Wirkende' That Shapes Our Ends Be

Beneficent Or Malignant Is Not Easy To Tell,  Till After The

Event.  Certain It Is That Sometimes We Seem Impelled By

Latent Forces Stronger Than Ourselves - If By Self Be Meant

One's Will.  We Cannot Give A Reason For All We Do; The

Infinite Chain Of Cause And Effect,  Which Has Had No

Beginning And Will Have No End,  Is Part Of The Reckoning,  -

With This,  Finite Minds Can Never Grapple.

It Was Destined (My Stubbornness Was None Of My Making) That

I Should Remain Obdurate.  Fred's Last Resource Was An

Attempt To Persuade Me (He Really Believed:  I,  Too,  Thought

It Likely) That The Men Would Show Fight,  Annex Beasts And

Provisions,  And Leave Us To Shift For Ourselves.  There Were

Six Of Them,  Armed As We Were,  To Us Three,  Or Rather Us Two, 

For Samson Was A Negligible