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diff --git a/78043-0.txt b/78043-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..8fe68d4 --- /dev/null +++ b/78043-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,7973 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 78043 *** + + + + + Bushy: a Romance Founded on Fact + +[Illustration: “OH, LISTEN TO ME, JIP; YOU ARE SO IMPOLITE!”--_Page +140._ ] + + + + + BUSHY + + A ROMANCE FOUNDED ON FACT + + + BY + + CYNTHIA M. WESTOVER + + + ILLUSTRATED BY + J. A. WALKER + + ’Tis strange--but true; + For truth is always strange, + Stranger than fiction. + + --BYRON, _Don Juan_ + + + [Illustration] + + + NEW YORK + THE MORSE COMPANY + 1896 + + + + + COPYRIGHT, 1896 + BY CYNTHIA M. WESTOVER + + _Entered at Stationer’s Hall, London_ + + + + +INTRODUCTION + + +Bushy is real, but she is no longer a little girl. In her memory the +scenes and incidents of that strange child-life in the Rockies mingle +to form a single pleasant dream. Their hardness is all gone. They +have become impersonal, so that it would often be difficult for Bushy +herself to determine where the line runs that separates individual +experience from environment. But no matter! The whole picture is a +truthful one, as those who knew Bushy in the mines could testify. + +The resolution of the equation of existence to its simplest form, +amid the most rugged surroundings, makes a singular school for the +development of womanhood. A child situated as Bushy was, finds little +encouragement for that element of innate poetry which ranges from “Jack +the Giant Killer” to “The Tempest,” and from “Grimm’s Fairy Tales” to +Tennyson’s “Round Table.” The habit of self-dependence, the perpetual +exaltation of the practical, the continuous nearness to nature, bring +their compensation, nevertheless, in the forced growth of character; +character worth having and worth studying. + +In the hope that the value of such character may be illustrated here, +this story is dedicated to an indulgent public. + + THE AUTHOR. + + + + +LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS + + + “OH, LISTEN TO ME, JIP; YOU ARE SO IMPOLITE!” _Frontispiece_ + + FACING PAGE + + “OH, I’S ALL WEDDY, PAPA!” 5 + + “OO IS WELL, NOW, PETE” 20 + + THE FATAL MINER’S LAMP 26 + + “‘GO ’WAY, SHANKS; YOU TALKED LOUD, TOO’” 36 + + “YES, YES, I’LL DIG YOU OUT,” SHE CRIED 40 + + SHE THOUGHT SHE HEARD HER FATHER SAY, + “ALL DEPENDS ON YOU, BUSHY” 42 + + “OH, LOOK, ROVER, THE LAKE IS + GROWING WIDER AND WIDER” 46 + + “GREAT HEAVENS! BUSHY, WHAT HAS HAPPENED?” + CRIED SHANKS 48 + + “NOW, TOM, I AM SURE ENOUGH A LITTLE BOY!” 52 + + “LIE CLOSE AND CLING TIGHT,” CRIED MR. SUKOLT, + JUST AS HE, TOO, WENT OUT OF SIGHT 54 + + “HOW DE DO,” CRIED BUSHY, THROWING HER NET + AT ONE OF THE NEAREST ONES 58 + + SHE CAUGHT THE SNAKE JUST BELOW THE HEAD + AND HELD IT WITH HER SLENDER, WIRY FINGERS 60 + + BUSHY FIRED AGAIN, AND THIS TIME DOWN HE CAME 68 + + AT THE SAME MOMENT CAME A REPORT + FROM BUSHY’S REVOLVER 74 + + “PICKLE AND HERRING! BUT THIS IS A DISH FIT + FOR A KING WITH A CROWN ON” 78 + + THE DANCE WAS A VERITABLE SERPENTINE ONE + OF MODERN DAYS 94 + + “OH, NED, NED, NED, JUMP, + JUMP FOR PADRE’S SAKE, JUMP!” 104 + + SHE GAZED DOWN IN ADMIRATION UPON WHAT + SHE SAW REFLECTED THERE 108 + + BUSHY SHOT HIM, AND HE FELL ON HIS FACE + ACROSS TOM’S BODY 120 + + “THOSE ARE THE HORNS FOR ME,” SHE SAID, + AND FIRED WHEN THE SHEEP WAS IN MID-AIR 130 + + SHE HELD HIS HEAD IN HER LAP + AND KISSED HIS BIG, SORROWFUL EYES 138 + + BUSHY CAUGHT JIP’S MANE IN ONE HAND + AND WOUND HER FOOT + IN THE ROPE THAT CIRCLED HIS BODY 152 + + “BUSHY! MY GOD, BOYS, SHE IS NOT HERE!” 162 + + ROVER WAS CAPERING LIKE MAD ABOUT HIM 172 + + “SH! KEEP STILL,” WHISPERED BUSHY 184 + + BUSHY GAZED UPON THIS PICTURE + IN THE DEEPEST ADMIRATION 192 + + “I’LL HOLD YOU, WILLIE, DEAR,” SHE SAID 204 + + “THERE, NOW, OLD FELLOW, KEEP COOL; + KEEP COOL; KEEP COOL, SIR!” 212 + + THE INSTANT BUSHY REALIZED HER DANGER, SHE FIRED 222 + + BUSHY’S HOME AT GREAT PINE MINE 290 + + “GOOD-BY!” 318 + + + + +BUSHY + + + + +CHAPTER I + + +Until Bushy Sukolt was four years old she had lived with her father and +mother in the town of Afton, Iowa. Mr. Sukolt was of the firm of Sukolt +& Block, the largest iron foundry of the State. Mr. Block dipped into +politics, just enough to bring in big contracts to enrich the firm, +and Mr. Sukolt was satisfied to fill all orders that Block’s business +methods secured. The office of Mr. Block was in the town and Mr. +Sukolt’s headquarters were at the foundry, and in this way the partners +saw very little of each other. + +The death of Mr. Block, which happened when Bushy was about four years +old, caused an examination of the accounts, and it was discovered that +he had, unknown to Bushy’s father, issued a large amount of paper in +the firm’s name. This was fast approaching maturity and was enough to +make an assignment necessary. + +Bushy’s mother, a frail, delicate woman, could not survive the +trouble, and in three months after the failure she was buried in the +little churchyard of Afton. + +Mr. Sukolt, feeling he could no longer remain in a place where he had +known so much sorrow, gladly became one of a geological party, bound +for the Rocky Mountains. His intention had been to leave Bushy for +three or four years in the care of a Mrs. Golden, a dear friend of the +family. But on the day before his departure, as Tom Cole, who was going +with Mr. Sukolt as a driver, was loading the wagon with the necessary +articles for such a journey, Bushy was found rolled up in some blankets +that were to be put into the wagon. + +As Tom pulled her out she pushed her bushy hair back from her eyes and +said: + +“Don’t oo touch me! Don’t oo touch me; I’s doin’ wiv my papa’s tachel.” + +Tom eyed her a second, as if debating within himself whether it would +be safe to approach such a fiery little piece of humanity; then, +gathering her up in his arms, he carried her out to the wagon where Mr. +Sukolt was superintending the loading. + +“Mr. Sukolt, Bushy says she is going with your satchel. I found her +almost melted, hidden in them blankets. It beats me how she got there. +I brought ’em down only a few minutes ago myself, and I know she wasn’t +in ’em then.” + +“I twawled in when you was eatin’ bwead and milk in de tichen,” sobbed +Bushy. + +Mr. Sukolt, taking her from Tom, kissed her chubby hands a dozen times. +She cuddled down in his arms and tried to hide her face in his bosom. + +“Does Bushy love papa so much?” He hugged her closer to him. “But never +mind, dear; when I come back I will bring you the biggest dolly you +ever saw--one that will cry ‘wah, wah!’ just like a real baby. Won’t +that be fine?” + +Her only reply was to snuggle yet closer, thus feeling that he could +not possibly put her away from him. + +He looked at Bushy, at the wagon, at the house, and again at Bushy; +then he seemed to gaze off into the unexplored regions of the Rockies. +He was so long quiet, and the expression of his face so sad that Tom, +growing uneasy, turned to the wagon and pretended to adjust some of the +luggage, his one object being to hide the tears that would trickle down +his wrinkled face. + +The long silence caused Bushy to raise her head and with childish +curiosity peep into her father’s face. At that moment it became +resolute. Calling to Tom he said: “Pack no more just now; pile +everything here by the wheel, and then go to Warren’s for that box of +provisions; I wish to speak to Mrs. Golden about Bushy.” + +“Oh, I’s all weddy, papa!” cried Bushy. Wriggling out of his arms and +running to the blankets, she pulled from under them a little roll. +“See, papa; see! I’ve dot my ove’shoes. I’ve dot my sun bonny. I’ve +dot my nightie.” And here one of the sobs that had been coming up her +little throat, to her surprise found its way out and cut her words +short. She stood before him with a shoe in one hand and a nightgown in +the other, her tear-stained but now happy face looking up into his for +the sign of approbation her little heart felt she would receive for her +thoughtfulness. + +“My baby! my baby!” he cried, snatching her up and tossing her on his +shoulder. “Go with papa’s satchel? Of course you will! How could I for +a moment think of leaving you--you, the only joy in the wide, wide +world now left to me?” and they started for the house. + +“I’s doin’! I’s doin’! I’s doin’!” came from the child’s sweet lips, +as she waved the nightgown to express her happiness and patted her +father’s head rather roughly with her shoe, which she still clung to, +her little heels digging vigorously into his big, broad chest. + +“’Oorah! ’oorah! ’oorah!” + +“Mrs. Golden--where are you, Mrs. Golden? Come here; we want you--Bushy +and I. Yes, it is Bushy and I from henceforth, for where I go Bushy +shall go, and where Bushy can’t go I won’t go!” he exclaimed, as he +handed her over to good, old Mrs. Golden. Her startled face showed she +was thinking: “The man’s gone clean mad! Poor fellow!” + +[Illustration: “OH, I’S ALL WEDDY, PAPA!”] + +“Call on some of your friends to help you. Buy a roll of gray flannel +and make it up into pinafores for Bushy. I have decided to take her +with me. Put into that small trunk of mine all the things you think she +will most”---- + +“But, man alive!” gasped the old lady, “she is only four--a mere baby. +What will you do with her?” + +“I can keep her warm and feed her,” sternly replied the father. “If you +will not do this for me I must get some one else, for Bushy goes with +me or I don’t go. Bushy and I are going to begin a new life in a new +country. We start Wednesday morning at 5.30. Can I depend on you, Mrs. +Golden?” + +She nodded assent and wiped her eyes on a corner of Bushy’s apron. + +“I’ll do it. But you are taking her to her death, poor, dear heart!” +she cried, as she disappeared in the house. + +That night in putting Bushy to bed old Mrs. Golden hovered about her +longer than usual. + +“Come, dear, say your prayers,” said the old lady as she secured the +last button on the “nightie.” “You won’t forget to kneel down and say +your little verse every evening, while away from auntie, will you, +darling?” + +“Des I won’t, tause I tant s’eep when I fordet,” was the lisped reply. +Then dropping on her dimpled knees she placed her head in Mrs. Golden’s +lap, clasped her little hands and began the prayer: + +“Now I lay me down to s’eep--but I ain’t a layin’ down to s’eep, +auntie!” + +She lifted her head and peeped inquiringly into Mrs. Golden’s face. + +“It means that you will go to sleep in just a minute, dear.” + +“Oh,” said Bushy, and down her head rested again on the old lady’s knee. + +“Now I lay me down to s’eep--auntie, tan I say sumpin’ else?” A second +time the head was raised and the little one looked into the auntie’s +eyes. + +“Certainly, dear, if you want to.” + +Snuggling so close was the little face now in the folds of Mrs. +Golden’s dress that it was with some difficulty the old lady heard the +quaint prayer offered by her tiny charge. + +“Now I lay me down to s’eep, tause I must dit up awful early, tause I’m +doin’ away wiv my papa. + +“I pray the Lord my soul to teep away from all the bad sings what Tommy +Tiddles said would eat me up--the bears, and--and--sings like dat.” + +There was a pause; then the wee voice inquired: + +“What turns next, auntie?” + +“If I should die”---- + +“If I should die before I wake,” broke in the child’s voice; “but I’m +not doin’ to die, tause I must dit up awful early. I’ll tell Tommy +Tiddles he don’t know nuffin ’bout where I’m doin’, and if I say my +prayers no bears ’ll eat me up. + +“I pray the Lord my soul to take me wiv my papa’s tachel, Amen. + +“Now, auntie, lay me down to s’eep,” she cried, jumping to her feet +and pulling up her nightgown she examined her knees to see how the +red spots looked. The red spots that came through her kneeling always +amused Bushy and she examined them as regularly as she said her prayers. + +Mrs. Golden tucked Bushy safely into her little cot, knowing well that +the child was thinking much more about naughty Tommy Tiddles and his +bear story than about her prayers. + +“She’s very dear to me!” sighed the old lady as she left the door ajar +and went into the next room to plan for Bushy’s flannel clothes. “I +don’t blame her father for taking her along; but what will I do without +her?” A tear fell on the wrinkled hand, and a sigh and a sob died away +together. + +Mr. Sukolt found, as he anticipated, that the company at first objected +to his taking Bushy, but he refused to go without her, and as he was +the best practical geologist in the party, they could not afford to +lose him. Satisfactory arrangements were made and Bushy rode off as her +baby head had planned, “wiv her papa’s tachel.” + + + + +CHAPTER II + + +Bushy took her cat with her. It was a Maltese, with the softest fur, +and large eyes that Bushy said looked like stars in the night. Bushy +loved Pete, for that was his name, more than she did anything else in +the world, except her father. + +Mr. Sukolt had no idea that Pete would stay with the wagon, but he +thought if it made Bushy any happier she could try and take him along. + +So they put a collar of bright red leather around Pete’s neck and +fastened to that a leader, just as if he were a dog. Bushy was told to +keep a tight hold on it, or her Pete would be making tracks for home. +She was very much frightened, of course, and to make him more secure +she had her father tie the leader to her bracelet, and thus the two +were ever seen together. The bracelet was a small circle of gold that +had been slipped over her fat hand a few days before her mamma died, +and when Bushy started out West it was still on her arm. Old Mrs. +Golden had tried several times to get it off, but the hand was too fat +to let it slip over without hurting her. + +You can imagine how funny Bushy and Pete looked, always together, and +sometimes, if Pete wanted to go anywhere very much, he would start on +a keen run and pull Bushy after him. Once he smelled a mouse that had +been brought along in the feed wagon. Bushy was watching Tom as he gave +Ned, who was known as her pony, and the other horses their breakfast, +and all at once Pete made a bound for the sack. He jumped and ran and +pulled and mewed to get away, and Bushy’s little feet had to trot very +fast to keep her from falling. Pete was a very big cat, and when Bushy +tried to carry him, her arms would just meet around his fat body. + +They were six weeks on the way to the Rocky Mountains and Pete got so +accustomed to following his little mistress about, that all she had +to do to make him obey was to say, “Pete, tum on,” and he would trot +along by her side without being pulled by the string, as she had to do +at first. He would play “dead” and lie in her lap for five minutes at +a time without moving even his tail, but when she cried, “Oo is well, +now, Pete,” he would jump down and race around and around her till +the leader would wind them into a tangled ball; they would play hours +this way. Pete seldom scratched her, but he was very cross if the men +touched him. Every time her father washed her face she thought it +necessary to wash Pete’s too. He did not seem to like it, yet he knew +he could not get away, so he let her wet his face till she thought it +quite clean. Once she tried to wash his paws, but he showed his claws +and growled so that Bushy thought it not necessary to keep his feet +clean. Pete disliked to get his paws wet, and Bushy would pick him up +and carry him whenever she was out where it was wet and muddy. + +Like all travellers in immigrant trains that started west in those +days, the motto adopted by these geologists was “Pike’s Peak or bust;” +when in fact their destination was far north of Pike’s Peak, a place +known as the Great Pine Mine district, and where eventually Mr. Sukolt +severed himself from the surveying party and remained for years as +overseer and part owner of Great Pine Mine. + +Outside of prickly pears, cactus, “old man weed” and Pete, Bushy +recalls very little of that first trip across the plains, but that day +the wagons drove up to the one good shanty at Great Pine she will never +forget. + +“Here we are, by Jove!” shouted Tom as he leaped from the wagon and +reached for Bushy and Pete. + +It is needless to say that the curiosity shown by the miners over the +surveying party was nothing when compared with that they displayed over +the child and her cat. + +An old fellow, named Walt, said he couldn’t stand it. “It reminds me +too strongly of home, by thunder!” he remarked as he walked away. Two +hours later he was found dead drunk under a tree near his cabin. The +bottle had been his consolation. + +Shanks, a big strapping Englishman, possessor of one of the best hearts +in the world, a jolly, easy-go-lucky chap, a good scholar and surgeon, +had gone early to the mining fields because his health had failed him, +and since 1849 he had been haunting all new gold strikes, had had no +particular good luck, but had managed to pay his way, and at this time +boasted a constitution that seemed made of wrought iron. + +It was not long before Shanks became the fourth one in this family--not +counting Pete, the cat, Rover, the dog, and Ned, the pony, every one of +which Bushy considered quite as important as herself. + +Of all the wonderful Rocky Mountain scenery Great Pine Mine was the +centre of the most picturesque spot to be found. No pencil or brush +could ever reveal the weird and awful grandeur of those wild gorges, +the walls of which in places rose perpendicularly from the foaming +streams to a height of 3,000 feet. The canyon leading from the mine in +a southerly direction widened into a valley through which a rather +good road had been made, but as it ascended the cliffs it narrowed into +what the civilized world would have called a dangerous, rocky path. + +Some estimate of the difficulty in reaching these mines can be gained +from the fact that it took the surveying party six hours to make the +last mile and a half. + +To the north there was a chasm ten miles in length, hemmed in by walls +two hundred to four hundred feet in height; while on the west rose +cliffs eight hundred to two thousand feet in altitude. + +At the place where the mine was situated the sun never shone more +than three hours a day, but those three hours turned the pinnacles, +buttresses, and opalized walls into all kinds of awe-inspiring forms, +brightened with all the colors of the rainbow. + +Mr. Sukolt always declared that Aladdin’s wonderful garden (to which +Tom generally confined his bed-time stories) paled into insignificance +when the sun shone on Great Pine Mine. + +The story must be told by and by how Bushy’s love for Pete made her +disobey her father. It was the only time in her life that she was ever +quite so naughty. Bushy always had a cat even after she lost Pete. The +miners would ask everywhere they went if there was a cat in camp, and +if gold could buy it, the cat was sure to go to Bushy. You see, she +loved cats so she squeezed them hard when she hugged them, and then she +would pick them up sometimes by the tail, sometimes by the head, and +often by the back, and carry them as far as they would let her. Her +tiny hands were often covered with scratches, because she found none +so gentle as Pete had been, and she would forget that they were not +all Petes. It kept the miners busy furnishing Bushy with cats, as the +life of one, after Bushy became its mistress, was of short duration. +One of the miners fenced off a piece of ground and called it the cat +graveyard, and there Bushy buried all her pets in a row, with pine +headboards, on which were burned with a hot poker the names of her +lamented darlings. + +Now for the story about Pete. They had been at Great Pine Mine just a +year when the Indian trouble began. The miners had built a small fort +by digging a hole in the ground and covering it with stone and sod, +leaving portholes a foot apart all around just under the roof’s edge. +Anybody inside could see all over the country and pick off any Indian +who was brave enough to come within rifle range, while the Indians had +no show whatever. They might shoot all day at the fort without there +being the slightest danger of hurting any one inside. The fort was +deep and half-filled with ammunition, food, bedding, and a keg or two +of water. This precaution had been taken, although it was thought the +Indians would not come so far north as the Great Pine Mine until warmer +weather. + +It was eight o’clock at night, and several miners were playing +cards--California Jack, they called the game. Mr. Sukolt was busy at a +table near sorting specimens and Bushy and Pete were curled up asleep +on a buffalo robe in front of the big fire-place. The only light in the +shanty came from the bright blaze of the pine-knots. + +“Hist!” cried Mr. Sukolt, looking up from the rocks and listening. The +card-players checked their laughter and turned their faces toward the +door. Pete stretched himself and Bushy sat up and rubbed her eyes. + +“It’s a horseman riding like mad,” exclaimed one of the men, rising and +going to the door. Mr. Sukolt reached for his belt and buckled it with +two revolvers about him; and the miners, who had taken off theirs, did +the same. As if by instinct they all scented danger and mechanically +prepared for it. Mr. Sukolt selected a warm blanket from the bunk near +at hand and threw it down by Bushy, then joined the others, who had by +this time stepped outside, and awaited the rider. + +“It is some one who knows the way,” cried Tom; “there must be something +after him. It is pitch dark, and I defy anything to keep close to a +horse running like that.” + +The words were no sooner said than Shanks dashed up to the door. The +horse was trembling in every limb and Shanks’s face was as white as a +sheet. + +“To the fort, boys! The Indians attacked us in Stone Gulch, and I am +the only one who escaped. I saw five of the boys scalped; then fled, +for I was one against twenty, and I hoped to save you. Sh! They are +closer than I thought.” + +A distant thud, thud, thud, signified the approach of mounted Indians; +then everything was still. + +“They are dismounting,” cried Mr. Sukolt. “They mean to shoot from +ambush. To the fort, boys, to the fort!” + +Shanks slipped off the bridle and turned his horse loose. + +“There, old fellow, if the redskins get after you, you are free to save +yourself if you can.” He gave him a smart stroke that sent him running +down the path toward the mine. + +“Tan I take Pete?” lisped Bushy, who had not stirred from the robe, but +had heard every word. + +“No, dear,” said her father, “one mew might forfeit our lives.” He +turned to get a strap, saying: “Bushy, roll into the blanket; I am +going to strap you to my back.” Bushy knew what that meant, for she +had often been strapped to him when he had climbed the high mountains. + +“Play dead,” said Bushy to Pete, giving him a soft tap on the nose. He +immediately stretched himself out, and she wrapped him in her shawl, +then rolled herself and Pete head and ears in the blanket. + +Mr. Sukolt, who had been arranging the strap, had not noticed Bushy. +Shanks was waiting at the door and keeping a lookout. Then Bushy’s +father picked her up and strapped her in a kind of sling, leaving his +arms and hands free to use his rifle. + +“Play dead,” cried Bushy, for Pete objected a little to the treatment +he was getting. + +“What is it, Bushy?” asked her father. + +She was silent. It was the first time in her life she had been unable +to answer her father. “Are you strapped too tight? What is it, Bushy?” +he inquired again, as he hurried out and joined Shanks. + +“Nuffin’,” she said, and snuggled down in the sling. She was afraid to +say “play dead” any more to Pete, so when he squirmed again she grasped +his nose firmly with her fingers and held on like grim death. The more +he squirmed the tighter she clinched with her fingers. It was a very +serious affair with Bushy. The idea of leaving Pete to be killed by +the Indians made her desperate. All the danger that her father saw in +Pete’s going was that he might mew, and she intended that he should +not. So, though after a half hour he quit wriggling about, she still +kept the death-grip on his nose. He could not scratch, because of +being bound up in the shawl. They were over an hour getting into the +fort--some of the Indians got between them and it. The savages knew +nothing of the stronghold and were trying to reach the shanty of the +chief, as they called Mr. Sukolt’s place. But by good manœuvring on the +part of the miners and the sound of the riderless horse’s hoofs near +the mine the Indians were misled and turned to the left, leaving the +ravine clear for the men to go through. + +“Are we all here?” asked Mr. Sukolt as soon as he got inside the fort. + +“All but Pete,” answered Tom, who now allowed his humor to show itself, +for they were safe at last from the Indians. + +“No, I dot ’im,” called the cheerful voice of Bushy from the +blanket-sling. + +“What! You have? I don’t see how you darst try it,” cried Tom, +half-vexed with Mr. Sukolt for displaying so little judgment. + +Mr. Sukolt said nothing, but showed his ignorance of Pete’s ride by +hastily undoing Bushy and shaking her a little as he lifted her out. + +Bushy held Pete still by the nose, and when the shaking was over she +looked up sweetly in her papa’s face, saying: “He’s all wight, Padre; +he never kied one mew, ’cause I choked his nose when he wouldn’t play +dead.” She dropped him from the shawl and he fell with a dull thud to +the stone floor. + +“He’s dead!” exclaimed the miners in one voice, and Tom knelt down and +poked him with his revolver. + +“No, he plays dead,” said Bushy, dancing about in high glee. “He plays +dead! Now see how he can jump.” She threw herself flat on her stomach +by Pete and clapped her hands, crying, “Oo is well now, Pete.” + +But Pete did not move. “Oo is well now, Pete,” she repeated, rising +on her hands and knees and looking at the limp cat that lay so still +before her. + +The miners stepped back, and in their pity for Bushy almost forgot that +the Indians were still lurking about. Bushy’s lips began to tremble, +and at last, realizing that Pete would never play with her any more, +she got up, and slipping her hand in her father’s, looked up with tears +streaming from her eyes and said: “What’s the weason, Padre; what’s the +weason?” + +“I think it has all come about because my little girl disobeyed her +papa,” replied her father, seriously. That was too much for Bushy. She +clasped his knees, and crying as if her heart would break, promised to +be “a dood dirl all her life” if he would bring Pete back again. But +poor Pete was dead. + +“He was about ready to die anyway,” Tom said to the Padre afterward, +for Bushy had hugged him to a mere skeleton. But Bushy never quite +got over thinking his death came about through her naughtiness; and +whenever she was inclined not to mind her father the picture of poor +Pete would come up before her and she would hesitate no longer. + +[Illustration: “OO IS WELL, NOW, PETE.”] + + + + +CHAPTER III + + +It was only natural that the miners should think a great deal of Bushy. +She was the only little girl in camp--the only child, in fact--and, of +course, they petted her and thought everything she did was just right. +I suppose she often did naughty things, like any other little girl, yet +she saved their lives one day, and after that the miners could not do +enough for her. + +On this particular morning Mr. Sukolt had ordered the men to do an +extra day’s work, because a certain amount of ore was to be sent down +the mountain that night. + +“Tom, I want you to stop long enough to get a hot dinner for the boys; +you and Bushy can bring it over, and save the time that would be spent +in going to the shanty,” he said, as he left early and joined the +miners at the Great Pine Mine. + +Bushy busied herself, as she always did, in what she called “helping +Tom do up.” Then she took her slate and wrote her letters--she had to +get her lesson every day and say it to her father or Tom before she +went to bed. After that she had a romp with Rover, and finally went to +sleep with her head pillowed on his shaggy coat. Rover was of a breed +half Newfoundland and half St. Bernard. He was immense in size and of +a most affectionate nature, his whole object in life being his care +for Bushy. She must have slept for a long, long time, because when she +awoke Tom was ready to take the dinner to the boys. + +“Get on your hood, Bushy, and hurry up, you little toad; I thought you +were going to sleep all day,” cried Tom, giving her a gentle shake. +“You must help me carry these things. How can I ever get them over +alone?” + +“Why, you touldn’t,” replied Bushy, scrambling to her feet, and looking +very cross at Rover. “You bad doggy, you made me fordet all about it!” + +Poor Rover, who had been so careful not to move even his toes for fear +of disturbing his little mistress, took the rebuke good-naturedly and +wagged his tail hard to show that he meant nothing wrong. + +“We have but one horse to-day, and you must ride in front of me and +carry the bread and meat while I carry these two tin pails,” said Tom, +as he hurried about getting things ready. + +“What you dot two for?” questioned Bushy. + +“One has coffee and the other soup. It’s a surprise for the boys. They +don’t get soup every day, do they? I killed a rabbit just behind the +shanty. I guess he didn’t know we lived here or he would have kept out +of the way.” + +“Where is his tail, Tom? I want his tail,” said Bushy, dropping her +hood and running to the table where Tom had skinned the rabbit. + +“Here it is, you little stupid,” laughed Tom, picking up her hood and +showing her how he had fastened the tail on so it stuck up like a +feather on the very top. + +Bushy clapped her hands and waited for Tom to tie the hood on her +head. Her hair stuck out every way, for no one had taken time to comb +it, and romping with Rover had not improved her looks. She took great +delight in “fixing up” with rabbit tails and bird feathers. Sometimes +she seemed more like a little Indian than a white child. One must not +forget that she had no playthings to amuse her, as have children who +live in the city. + +In a very little while they got to the mine. Bushy was so anxious to +exhibit her rabbit’s tail to her papa that she begged hard to go down +into the mine with Tom. + +“Please let me do,” she pleaded. + +Tom at first was not inclined to let her descend, because there is +always more or less danger of falling rocks in the mine, and if some +one did not stop work and go about with her, Mr. Sukolt always felt +uneasy until she was taken out. She was ever in motion, and flew +hither and thither, filling the mine with her jolly little laugh or +whistling like the birds she heard in the pine-trees, and loading her +pockets with every bright piece of ore she could pick up with her brown +fingers. Sometimes she would perch herself on the ledges or shelves +near where a miner was working with his pick and watch him. A smile of +peculiar softness would steal over the hard faces of the rough miners +as they passed and stretched out their hard and dirty hands to pat her +head and say: “Hello, Bushy! how many tons are you going to get out +to-day?” + +Miners, when following a vein, at first pick out no more of the rock +than is necessary to secure the richest ore. This often leaves the +sections with walls that are dug into in such a way as to appear filled +with great shelves. After the rich ore has been sent up in the bucket +and everything cleared away other miners follow and cut down the uneven +parts into smooth surfaces, which are “planked up,” and sometimes made +yet more secure by having great wooden pillars built in for support. + +It was on one of these shelves that Bushy was perched this day when she +saved the miners’ lives. Walt had been at work near Bushy clearing up, +but was called away by Tom to eat his dinner. + +“Stay where you are, Bushy,” cried Tom, “until I dole out the +victuals, then I’ll take you up again.” + +There were several rooms or sections in the mine, and as they meant to +blast after dinner all the tools and breakable things had been carried +into the far end of one of the divisions, and a small keg of powder +was opened and ready for use just below the ledge on which Bushy was +sitting. + +To be able to reach the vein Walt had built a temporary scaffold +that lifted him about three feet from the bottom, and this was still +standing when one of the miners, remembering that the powder was +uncovered, got up quickly to put something over it. + +He bumped his head against one of the wooden beams put up to support +the sides of the mine, and his lamp was knocked from his hat and went +bounding in a zigzag direction toward the powder, thirty feet away. + +The miners were panic-stricken. The wick had burnt low, and as it +turned over and over, instead of going out, the whole thing got ablaze +and rolled on and on like one ball of fire, impishly bent on doing all +the mischief possible. + +“My child, my child! The powder!” screamed Mr. Sukolt, as he made a +dash around a bucket of ore in his attempt to reach Bushy. Every man +who had seen the candle fall knew he could never get to her side +before an almost certain explosion; with the woodwork and the great +coil of fuse, death would be inevitable to all those in that division. + +The candle reached the scaffolding and went zigzagging on, the broad +boards making its fatal arrival in the keg of powder right under Bushy +seem inevitable. They saw, too, that Bushy had seen the tin holder when +it fell from the hat. At the first cry made by her father she started +like a frightened doe, and when he exclaimed “the powder!” her eye fell +on the open keg. + +Bushy had been taught all about the dangers attached to the use of +powder, and she had seen the men too often wounded in the blasting not +to understand that the light must not reach the keg. + +One faint cry of “Padre!” reached the miners’ ears, as she threw +herself from the ledge on to the scaffolding, crushing out the light of +the lamp with her tiny body as she fell. The boards, loosely arranged, +gave way and tumbled with Bushy to the bottom of the mine, and she was +quite buried out of sight with them when her father and the miners +reached her. + +“Thank God, she’s alive!” exclaimed Mr. Sukolt, as he pulled her out +and took her in his arms. “Papa’s brave girl. Where does it hurt, dear?” + +There was not a dry eye to be seen as the miners crowded around. +Shanks did not wait to get her out of the mine, but pulled off her +little dress and examined by the candle light the arm that he thought +was broken. + +“I dess I bumped it here,” said Bushy, putting her hand on her +shoulder. On further examination it was seen that her collar-bone was +broken. + +She will always carry a reminder of that timely fall in the mine, for +there was quite an ugly bump formed on the bone in its mending. + +[Illustration: THE FATAL MINER’S LAMP.] + + + + +CHAPTER IV + + +Just think of Bushy as she grew older as a very little girl with fluffy +hair that stood on end all the time. Her father kept it cut pretty +short because there was no one to comb it for her but himself, and +often he had to leave her asleep in the morning, and he would not see +her until he came home at night and found her in bed again. + +Mr. Sukolt knew there was danger in allowing Bushy to handle her little +revolver like a plaything, but then, too, he knew there was a greater +danger in her not knowing how to use it. + +“Never point the weapon at anything you would not care to kill,” was +his daily instruction, and it grew to be a second nature to handle it +carefully and skilfully. She would play all day at shooting marks, +cutting off leaves of trees, hitting nail-heads and picking flies off +the log walls, and although Mr. Sukolt sometimes came home expecting +to hear she was hurt, he would say that such an anxiety was nothing +to compare with what he would feel if he did not know that she had +made the use of the revolver as natural to her as it is for a boy to +whistle. + +It was a bright, beautiful summer morning when Mr. Sukolt called Bushy +to him and said: “It is my turn to take the tools to be sharpened. +There are so many of them that I shall be obliged to wait several +hours, and will not be back until late. I would take you with me, but I +must carry the tools on Ned, and then, who would be housekeeper if you +went along; Tom is away, and I would have no supper if the housekeeper +went, would I?” + +“All right,” said Bushy, perfectly delighted when her father made +it look as if she were a necessity. Her little heart swelled with +great pride to think she could hold up her “end of the line,” as Tom +expressed it. + +“If anything should happen that you are called upon to protect +yourself, will you be afraid, dear?” + +Bushy, not quite understanding her father’s anxiety, filled the hut +with her merry peal of laughter, then, climbing on his knee, she wound +her arm about his neck, and taking her revolver from the table where it +lay said: “See that knot in the log, Padre?” Her father nodded. Without +a word more she raised the revolver and fired, hitting the knot in +the centre. Few men could handle a weapon with deadlier aim than this +little girl who knew nothing but what she had learned in camp life. + +“I wish,” said Mr. Sukolt to Shanks an hour later, “that you would go +back to the shanty and bring Bushy over, I have a foolish foreboding +of evil to-day. Let her play about the mine, and if I don’t get back +before dark you take her home and stay with her until I come.” + +Mr. Sukolt rode off with the tools, and Shanks soon had Bushy at the +mine. One of Bushy’s great pleasures was to ride up and down in the +bucket, but it was not often she was allowed to do it. This day one of +the miners named Mac took her with him every time he made the trip. Mac +was a Southerner, who did not believe in the slaves being made free, +and on more occasions than one Mr. Sukolt had cautioned him to keep his +opinions to himself. + +“You know that you are the only Southern man in camp,” he said, “and +not a favorite at that. I will not be responsible for the actions of +the miners if you air your rash ideas, especially when I am not here +and the men have had anything to drink.” + +The only soft spot in Mac’s heart was for Bushy, and this day the two +were inseparable. + +“I like you,” said Bushy, as Mac carefully lifted her out of the bucket +for the twentieth time. “Why does Padre say he’s afraid something will +happen to you when he’s away?” + +“Oh, because I’m hot-headed and quick-tempered,” replied Mac, as he +took her hand and they went to the tool-house for a load of stuff to +be lowered into the mine. + +It was nearly five o’clock when a great helloing and cheering brought +out all the workers from below to greet the freight wagons just arrived +from the States. They carried food, ammunition, tools, clothing, etc., +that had been sent for by Mr. Sukolt. All the letters to the miners +were brought in this way, too. The mail was directed to the nearest +town, and these freight-men would stop and bring it to the camp. It was +a rule made by Mr. Sukolt that the mine should shut down for an hour +whenever the wagons arrived, that the men might read all their letters +without interruption, and on this day it was so late that Shanks +ordered work stopped for the night. + +It was still light, and the miners, between indulging in drink that one +of the drivers had brought along to treat the boys with, and the good +news from home, had become hilarious and noisy. Shanks had told Bushy +to sit on a box by one of the wagons and stay there until he could get +his coat and take her home. + +How the mob started Shanks could not explain any more than could any +of the others, for, like all mobs, it seemed to be a creature of very +mysterious evolution. + +“Lynch him!” cried one of the miners. + +About thirty infuriated men, some in dust-covered mining clothes, +others from the trains still with their whips in hand, circled about a +man who was talking loudly and excitedly. + +This troubled movement and shouting filled Bushy’s heart with fear. She +stood on the box and looked over the heads of the crowd of men that +would first advance, then retreat, push, yell, and shout at intervals, +“Hang him! hang him! lynch him!” + +“I tell you again I am glad of it; it serves him right!” cried the +voice of Mac in hot angry tones. + +Then a wave passed over that crowd something like the movement and +swirl of a cyclone, after which came a lull that showed Mac, erect +against a great pine-tree, held so by a lariat that had been passed +twice around the trunk, crossing him over chest and arms holding him +helpless. + +“Say that again if you dare!” called out one of the leaders. There was +a growl from the crowd and the men drew closer. + +“No, I was thoughtless,” exclaimed Mac, now realizing his danger. + +“Bah! hang the coward! Anybody who is glad Lincoln is dead, should +be dead too,” yelled out the driver who had brought up the news of +Lincoln’s assassination, and at the same time he threw over one of the +branches of the tree another lariat. The crowd grew more excited, even +those who had not been so active before now falling in with the largest +party, which was for lynching Mac. + +When Bushy saw the rope go over the branch she knew what that meant, +for six months before she and her father had come across a man near the +blacksmith’s who had been lynched for stealing horses. Over his head on +a pine board was written in big letters, “Bill, the horse-thief--to be +cut down at nine o’clock to-morrow.” Bushy had not been able to sleep +well for a month afterward--that man’s face seemed to haunt her. That +was the first time she had heard the word “lynch,” and when the miners +cried “Lynch him!” the picture of this other man came again before her. + +“We don’t know how it came about,” explained Shanks to Mr. Sukolt +afterward; “but when Walt turned to untie Mac, and the crowd pressed +forward to help at the lynching, there sat Bushy on Mac’s shoulder. She +had climbed up like a cat, and, with her feet slipped behind the ropes +that crossed Mac’s chest, she braced herself, and, throwing her left +arm about his head clinched her hand on his blue shirt; then, with eyes +like sparks of fire, she faced us, with revolver raised and ready to +fire. + +“Well it was a shock to the crowd greater than if we had all been +struck by lightning--we knew Bushy’s shot was sure go. Then, who would +hurt a hair of her head! ‘I like Mac,’ was all she said, ‘and I’ll sit +here till the Padre comes.’ The men swore and laughed and whistled, and +finally went back to the wagons, sobered and thoughtful. ‘Come, Bushy, +get down, and we will let Mac go this time, eh, boys?’ I said, and they +replied in a body, ‘Yes, Bushy, you have saved us from doing a foolish +thing.’ But Bushy, to my surprise, never changed her attitude and +checked my approach with ‘Go ’way, Shanks; you talked loud, too.’ That +was a blow I did not expect. She did not trust me any more than the +others, and there she sat until you came, keeping her eye on everybody +who went near the tree.” + +When Mr. Sukolt arrived he understood the situation at once, and, +jumping from his horse, ran to the tree, took Bushy in his arms, and, +turning to the men, cried in an angry voice, “Bushy, point out the +leader of this mob!” But Bushy lay still, white and limp, and her +revolver had dropped at last to the ground. She had fainted. + +For three weeks she was quite ill--brain fever, Shanks said. When she +went to the mine next time Mac was not there, and to her frightened +question, “Did they kill him?” Tom replied: + +“The Padre was so angry when you fainted and he thought you might die, +that he ordered Mac set at liberty at once; then, pointing to his +horse, said, ‘Take him and all your belongings and leave the camp.’ He +is prospecting now, and he says if he ever strikes a rich mine he will +give you every bit of gold that comes out of it.” + + + + +CHAPTER V + + +One night, several years later, the child was awakened with, “Bushy, +Bushy! oh, Bushy! wake up, dear! that’s a good girl.” + +Bushy sleepily turned over in her little bed, which was just then +shared with Rover, to see Tom, with an anxious face, bending over her. + +“Why, what’s the matter, Tom?” said she, sleepily, sitting up in bed, +striving with all her might to keep her eyes wide open by rubbing her +brown knuckles into them. Tom had been very ill with the mountain +fever, the sickness most dreaded by all the miners. Bushy had been +deputized as his nurse, and most faithfully indeed had she performed +her duties. + +“The Padre hasn’t come home from the mine yet, and neither has Shanks,” +exclaimed Tom. “I am afraid something is wrong. It is nearly ten +o’clock and I want you to go up the trail with me.” + +“All right,” said Bushy, jumping down from the bunk; “I’ll be ready in +a jiffy.” She was wide awake now, for anything that touched upon her +father’s safety made her little heart thump like a trip-hammer. + +“Don’t you worry, Tom,” she said, swinging her arm back to reach the +other sleeve of her tiny buffalo coat; “Padre’s all right. I expect he +and Shanks had to stay awhile and help the men out. You know they said +this morning at breakfast that they would have to timber that new drift +where they struck that rich vein, or they would be having a cave-in.” + +[Illustration: “‘GO ’WAY, SHANKS; YOU TALKED LOUD, TOO.’”] + +“That’s just it,” replied Tom. “I’m afraid there has been a cave-in.” + +“Oh, no,” answered Bushy, assuringly; “but I’ll go over and see. I’ll +bet my head that your fever’s worse, ’cause you have worried,” she +added, rising from the floor, where she had been sitting wrapping her +feet in some pieces of gunny sack and tying them about with short +ropes. Then she noticed that Tom was trying to put on his coat. + +“Why, Tom, you can’t go! You can’t walk yet. I am not afraid, and it is +colder than Greenland.” + +Tom had been sick for two weeks, and had been out of bed just one day. +To all his urging that he had better go with her, Bushy scornfully +replied that she wasn’t a “Tenderfoot,” and that he must stay and be +ready to help in the shanty if anything had really happened. + +She went out and saddled Ned. She threw on a blanket and strapped it +tight, then bridled him and away they ran. + +Tom stood in the doorway looking after her till the light of the +lantern gleamed like a tiny fire-fly. It finally disappeared with its +brave little bearer, behind a clump of snarled and twisted cedars which +grew along the side of the trail up the steep mountain side. + +“Too bad,” thought Tom, as he staggered once more to the fire-place +and sat down. “I’m no good. I could not have gone ten yards without +falling. Perhaps after all the men are staying extra late to finish +that propping.” + +Bushy galloped on, swinging the lantern high, then low, calling out, +then waiting for some reply. In spite of the warm mittens her fingers +were beginning to tingle. She was used to having her father stay +over supper-time, yet she always bore in mind his danger; how he was +constantly taking his life in his own hands, going down deep shafts in +a bucket, working in long dark tunnels with only the light of a candle +to guide him. Bushy at this time was nine years old, and she had been +over the trail so often that she thought, if obliged to do it she could +go the way blindfolded. But soon came a great surprise for her. Turning +one of the sharp corners in the path everything was odd and strange. +She rubbed her eyes to see if she were really awake. Where was the +mine? She looked back to see if she had come the right way. Yes, she +would know the great pine from which the mine received its name, +anywhere. Only last week she had climbed to its very top. What on earth +was the matter? Where was the mine? Where was the tool-shed? She saw +nothing but one great mass of snow, with here and there the top of some +tall pine showing itself. While thus peering through the darkness and +trying to stop the beating of her heart she thought she heard a voice +call. Ned snorted and pawed the snow until she had to scold to make him +keep quiet. + +“Listen, Ned, listen!” She slipped from his back and led him near the +tree. Yes, there it was again, more distinct, yet far away and faint. + +She shouted: “Padre! Padre! what’s the matter, and where is the mine?” + +A voice answered, sounding as if it came from a deep well. Again she +shouted, and hallooed at the top of her voice: “Padre! Padre! Are you +dead, Padre, and up in the heaven?” + +This time the answer seemed to come out of the snow, yet muffled +and indistinct as before. She stumbled against some broken timbers, +sticking up out of the drift, and then she realized the awful truth. +There had been a snow-slide and the men, with her father, were buried +beneath it. + +The mass of snow on the mountain just above them had loosened, although +the weather did not seem warm enough to warrant such a thing, and had +come in one great avalanche, crushing everything in its pathway. She +hurried on some distance and then shouted again, and this time the +voice was directly under her feet. + +“Padre, is that you?” she called, placing her mouth near the snow, and +then throwing herself flat on the bank, she put her ear down to listen. + +“Yes; is that you, Bushy?” + +“Yes, yes, I’ll dig you out,” she cried, beginning to dig with all +her might; her little hands soon making a large hole in the soft snow +beneath her. + +“I am not very far under,” called her father, so faint she could +scarcely hear, “but I am pinned down with a beam of the tool-house. I +don’t think I’m hurt much. Dig with anything you can find until I can +make you hear and understand all I say.” + +Bushy got a piece of broken plank and worked for fifteen minutes as she +never worked before. Ned stood by and neighed every time Bushy spoke to +her father. + +“Now,” said Mr. Sukolt, when she had dug a deep hole down to him, “try +and get me out, so I can help the boys. None of them were up but me +when the slide covered us. All depends on you, Bushy.” + +[Illustration: “YES, YES, I’LL DIG YOU OUT,” SHE CRIED.] + +But Bushy was too little to make much headway, and her strength was not +half enough to lift the great beam that was right across her father’s +body. “This will never do, Bushy. There is nothing left but for you to +ride to the blacksmith’s. No, there is a camp of miners down the gulch, +only a mile from here. Ride there as fast as Ned can take you; have the +miners bring shovels and picks to dig us out; the boys may be smothered +even by this time.” + +Bushy did not tell her father that she thought the slide had cut off +the way there, but she rode Ned as far as she could, then tied him to a +tree and started on the half run and half jump to the camp. + +Bushy had never been known to say “I can’t.” She carried the lantern, +floundered through the snow out to the trail which would lead her to +the camp. On, on she went, sometimes missing the path, then she had to +go back and, by the aid of the lantern, hunt the blazed trees by which +the miners had marked the way on either side of the trail. + +For awhile she got along very well. It was all down grade, and she had +gone so fast that she was not a bit cold. Soon came a change, for the +path led over a kind of hill, and the wind swept down upon her with +wicked force. Her little legs grew so tired that it was hard to draw +them along. Once she sat down to rest a minute, and had it not been for +the awful state the men were in she would have given up and cried. Her +hands, with all her swinging back and forth, would not keep warm, and +her feet were now so cold they pained her every time she moved them. At +last in the distance she saw a faint outline of the camp, for the moon +was looking out through the heavy clouds and gave a dim light. Next +appeared the glimmer of the camp-fire. Oh, how far away it seemed to +Bushy, now crying in earnest! Her feet had grown numb and her eyes so +heavy that she thought she would never get there. + +She was about to sit down again when she thought she heard her father’s +voice close beside her say, in tones of reproach: “All depends on you, +Bushy.” She started on again, but how she made the last few yards she +never knew. + +Next day Mr. Robinson, whose camp she had gone to, told her father all +about it. + +“You see I was waked up by hearing a kind of thump against the cabin. +I thought it was our old dog Spot. It was such a tarnation cold night +that I hadn’t the heart to keep him out. I got up to call him, and +there lay your Bushy in a heap in the snow at my feet. + +[Illustration: SHE THOUGHT SHE HEARD HER FATHER SAY, “ALL DEPENDS ON +YOU, BUSHY.”] + +“I knew something must be awfully wrong. I was skeared out of my wits, +and gave a halloo that raised the whole camp. We soon had some brandy +down her little throat, which brought her to herself a bit. She said +‘Padre! Great Pine Mine! Snow-slide!’ Great guns! It took the boys just +two minutes to be on the way. One of the men rubbed her hands, gave her +more brandy, then wrapped her up in a blanket, and with the help of +another fellow, carried her back. They found Ned where Bushy had left +him tied to a tree, after which it was easy to reach the camp, and your +Tom took care of her.” + +He brushed his coat-sleeve across his eyes as he said: “She’s a kid in +ten million, she is!” + +The relief party soon had the mine opened and the men rescued, but had +it not been for Bushy’s brave little heart they might all have perished +beneath the snow-slide. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + + +Some time after Bushy had helped save the men from the snow-slide she +had an adventure with Rover which was very funny, though Bushy’s heart +was almost broken because it ended in the ruin of her one good dress. + +This was a pink calico with white moons dotted all over it, and the +only dress she had, in fact, for everything else she wore was made of +the sacks that the horse-feed and the corn-meal came in. Flour was $100 +a sack, so there were very few flour sacks to be used up in clothes for +Bushy. It took all they could get to make the undergarments, so dresses +generally had to be gunny sacks made over. + +This pink calico dress one of the miners had brought from the States +when it was his turn to bring the freight, and Bushy only wore it when +some special affair was going on. This day she was left all alone in +the cabin. Nobody was expected until supper-time. Rover was enjoying +the sunshine so much that he could not be induced to enter into a +romp--he seemed to like nothing better than to stretch himself full +length across the front doorstep and make Bushy go around him or step +over him every time she had occasion to go in or out. + +“You are a stupid old fellow!” cried Bushy, giving him a soft tap with +her bare foot. Rover only winked at her and wagged his shaggy tail. + +“You are no company at all,” she added, but Rover did not mind, and +this time he was too lazy to wink, but closed his eyes and went sound +asleep. + +Time hung heavily on her hands; she had written her lesson until both +sides of the slate were full; she had swept the cabin and made a +roaring fire in the fire-place, that kept the pot of deer meat boiling +away like fun. It was an exceptionally warm day for that time of the +year, and her father had told her not to go up the mountains hunting, +because he was afraid of another snow-slide. The water was running down +in streams until quite a little lake was formed in a low spot not far +away. + +Bushy watched the water running down on all sides and began to wonder +how deep the lake was. “I wonder what kind of weather it was last +year,” she said to herself--she always talked out loud because she +never had any little boys or girls to play with. + +Then she hunted up the almanac where her father jotted down all the +snow-storms, snow-slides, and everything that he particularly wanted to +remember. + +“Why, Rover! Rover!” she screamed, running out and shaking him until +he was obliged to pay some attention to her, “it is the 17th of June. +Padre didn’t know it, I guess. We must have a good time, Rover. Wake +up, you sleepy dog!” + +Bushy rushed back to the wooden box where she kept her pink dress, and +while she sang a merry tune, slipped the pink calico over her head, +shook down the little ruffles, buttoned the row of pearl buttons in the +back--those buttons to Bushy were more precious than diamonds--then +snatching her hat, that was a great, soft, felt sombrero, she called to +Rover and they ran a race down a well-trodden path to the very edge of +the water. + +“Oh, look, Rover, the lake is growing wider and wider; it will soon +reach the divide and then run down the other side in a great river. +Come on, Rover, let’s wade in just a little way.” + +Bushy slipped off her moccasins that had been put on in honor of the +day--Bushy always insisted on going barefooted the minute the snow left +the ground--and began to dip her toes cautiously into the water. Rover +whined and acted very disagreeably, dashing in and out and wagging his +wet tail so as to throw the water over her. + +“Rover! if you can’t behave yourself you will have to keep out!” she +cried, venturing in a little farther. “Stay out, sir! Don’t you dare +sprinkle me again!” + +[Illustration: “OH, LOOK, ROVER, THE LAKE IS GROWING WIDER AND +WIDER.”] + +Rover howled and stuck his nose as high in the air as possible. + +“Howl away!” answered Bushy, as she tucked her pink dress up high about +her waist and waded still farther. The day was warm and the water did +not feel half so cold as she thought it would. She could see quite to +the bottom as she waded, but when her toes dug vigorously in the mud +great clouds of it would circle in queer forms about her fat legs. To +insure the pink dress from getting damp she threw the skirt from the +back over her head, thus preventing her from seeing Rover. + +Howl after howl issued from his throat. He knew that Bushy was doing a +very foolish thing. + +“Her father told her this very morning,” said Rover to himself, “that +she should be careful. She will step in a hole in a minute and then +she will be drowned.” He ran first up the bank then down to the very +water’s edge, then back toward the house, looking to see if he could +not call some one to make Bushy mind; then he would squat on his hind +legs and howl and yelp at every step she made. + +“Hush up!” cried Bushy, who thought he was crying only because she had +forbidden him coming in. “Hush up! people don’t cry on Bunker Hill Day. +When the parade comes home we will--oh, oh, oh!” she screamed stooping +down to try and pull out something that had stuck into her foot. Her +back was to Rover. He saw her stoop and heard her scream with pain. +That was enough for him. With one bound he landed in the water close +beside her and with another he had clinched his teeth in the back of +her dress and then commenced a backward movement that threw Bushy quite +off her feet and down flat in the black muddy water. + +The skirt worked down from her head. Rover pulled and pulled, her +head ploughing a furrow in the mud as he dragged her along. The water +almost choked her. She could not cry out, and did not realize what had +happened to her until she found herself high and safe on the bank, with +Rover dancing as if he were crazy about her. + +She was dripping wet; her hair was plastered down over her face by the +mud; her dress, once so pink and beautiful, was black with dirt. As +soon as she could get her breath she threw herself down on the ground +and cried with all her might. + +“Oh, Rover, Rover! You have broken my heart. You stupid dog! It isn’t +deep. I was only wading in just for fun, and now you have spoilt my”---- + +“Great heavens! Bushy, what has happened?” cried Shanks, who had been +sent to the cabin for a chisel. “How did you fall in, and how did you +get out?” he cried, quite out of breath from running. + +He wiped the mud from her face, and again asked: “Tell me, Bushy, +did you fall to the bottom?” + +[Illustration: “GREAT HEAVENS! BUSHY, WHAT HAS HAPPENED?” CRIED SHANKS.] + +“Bottom of what?” inquired Bushy, looking curiously at him through her +tangled hair. “I was only wading.” + +“Then you didn’t fall into the prospect hole that has twelve feet of +water in it, just there?” and Shanks pointed about two feet from the +spot where Bushy’s toe had struck against a board, and from which Rover +had dragged her. + +“Rover saved me!” she cried, throwing her arms about his wet body. + +“Dear old Rover kept me from falling into that dreadful hole. I forgot +it was there; one step more and I would have gone down. Oh, Rover, dear +Rover, I won’t call you stupid ever in my life again; and who cares for +the pink dress now!” + +Rover wagged his tail with joy until Bushy stood up; then she presented +such a funny appearance that he began to howl louder than ever. This +made Shanks and Bushy laugh heartily. + +Shanks took them to the cabin and gave them both a bath, but Bushy’s +hair had to be shingled; her father could not get the snarls out any +other way. The pink dress was spoiled, but Bushy had it put carefully +away in a box, where she found it years and years afterward, when it +brought back the story of faithful old Rover and how he saved her life. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + + +“Padre, now my hair is short, I’m going to play boy,” said Bushy a +month after Rover had pulled her from the pond. “Do all the boys feel +light-headed like I do?” + +“That is a puzzler,” answered her father, as he turned her buckskin +jacket right side out and helped her put it on. “I think you will have +to wait until you know some boys and ask them.” + +It was morning and Bushy had been awakened to accompany Mr. Sukolt and +three men, way up the mountains, over the divide and into a section +where the pine-trees grew tall and without many branches. These trees +Mr. Sukolt used for timbering the mine. They were cut into lengths to +support places where there was danger of the walls caving in. + +“No, no. I don’t want my dress. I want to wear pants like you. Tom +must make me a pair,” cried Bushy. “I’m a little boy. Don’t you want a +little boy, Padre?” + +“Why, I rather think I do if he has this little wildcat’s face,” +replied the father, again trying to help Bushy dress. + +“No, no,” she again protested. “Tom, can’t you make me a pair of pants?” + +“Of course, I can,” he replied, laughing at the idea of Bushy being a +boy. “Just watch me. Mr. Sukolt, you go and attend to the horses. Bless +my heart! The child ought to have a summer outfit, and it shall be +pants if she wants them, sure as my name’s Tom Cole.” + +“Oh, Tom, make me into a little cow-boy. Can I have a whip and--oh, +I’ll wear my nightgown for a white waist, and put the buckskin jacket +over it, and--what can we make pants out of, Tom?” + +“Why, this skirt will do. I’ll just turn it into two little skirts +instead of one. Ha, ha! look at that! They are almost done already,” +cried Tom, as he sewed away with twine and harness needle. + +Tom soon turned the coffee-sack dress into a beautiful pair of pants. +He handed them over to Bushy with the greatest pride. + +“Oh, they are scrumptious!” she cried, disappearing, and in a minute +came bounding back with a boy’s suit on complete. + +“Something is wrong with the waist; guess we can scrape up a sash,” +said Tom, eying her critically. He went to the clothes-box and pulled +out a roll of red flannel cut in strips for bandages. “Look here,” he +said, unrolling it. “How is this for a sash?” + +Bushy screamed with joy. “Oh, Tom, I’ll be so careful of it if you let +me wear it just this one day.” Without waiting for an answer she wound +the strip three times around her tiny waist, then tied it in a big +flowing bow. Next her quick fingers twisted it like a ribbon about the +crown of her wide felt hat. “Now, Tom, I am sure enough a little boy!” +Then, taking up the rawhide whip, which she called a “quirt,” she began +to dance a hornpipe, cracking her whip in time. + +“Hello!” called her father. “What have we here? Some gypsy strayed from +the camp? I’ll help you out.” He picked up an old guitar that stood in +one corner, and then to a real jig tune, Bushy danced all the steps the +miners had taught her. + +So they started for the woods. Walt drove the team. Tom and Shanks, +mounted on ponies, started ahead, and Bushy and her father brought up +the rear, Mr. Sukolt on an Indian pony, and Bushy, as usual, on Ned. + +They descended through caverns where icicles still dripped, and where +there was danger of some avalanche sliding down to bury itself in the +black gorge below. Soon they came to a place where the melted snow and +ice was plunging madly through the rocks and black dirt. + +“Ah, we can use that torrent,” said Mr. Sukolt, calling a halt just +before entering the road that would lead off to the right. “We will cut +logs and get them down the hillside by putting them in that stream.” + +[Illustration: “NOW, TOM, I AM SURE ENOUGH A LITTLE BOY!”] + +The men in less than half an hour were chopping, hallooing, calling, +singing, laughing, and working with all their might. + +“I fear the creek is rising,” exclaimed Mr. Sukolt all at once. “There +must have been a cloud-burst along its course somewhere. To your +saddles, boys; we must run no risk; there is every indication of a +freshet.” + +Bushy heard the anxious voice and there was no need to tell her what +to do. She was on Ned in a second, and with the long lariat coiled she +rode up to her father’s side and said: “I am ready, Padre, shall we +make for the valley or go up the mountain.” + +“To the valley, every one to the valley! There is no hope of escaping +it. Ah! how it roars; we must get ready to swim.” + +Tom unhitched the mules from the wagon and fixed their harness; then, +mounting his pony, called to the men to follow. Shanks and Walt were +coming down as fast as they could. + +“If the water strikes you, Bushy, hold on fast to Ned. I would tie you +to me, but if I go under I don’t want you to be tied to me, and if I +get out safe I can help you.” + +“Is that thunder, Padre?” asked Bushy, looking up into her father’s +pale face. He only urged his horse and Ned to go faster. “Make for the +flat,” he called to the men, “then turn the horses’ heads toward Bald +Mountain.” + +He had no more than finished speaking when the “thunder” broke into one +great report and water came down the gulch seven feet high. The men +were not afraid of the water, it was the timber that they had spent all +day in cutting that they thought would perhaps dash down and kill them +and the horses. + +Bushy and her father were on the outer edge of the freshet, and when it +struck, both horses lost their feet and went under. + +“Lie close and cling tight,” cried Mr. Sukolt, just as he, too, went +out of sight. A great log that Tom had taken such pride in cutting +down followed end over end, and as Mr. Sukolt and the pony came up and +were straightening out for a swim, the log struck on the pony’s head, +stunning him so that he sank like lead. + +Busby and Ned were making for the dry land, only the current was so +strong it swept Ned sideways. Bushy was dripping wet, for she had gone +under, too. + +“Padre,” she screamed, when she saw him sinking, “swim to Ned. Oh, Ned, +we must help Padre.” + +[Illustration: “LIE CLOSE AND CLING TIGHT,” CRIED MR. SUKOLT, JUST AS +HE, TOO, WENT OUT OF SIGHT.] + +Ned seemed to understand, because he neighed when he looked back and +saw Mr. Sukolt trying to swim toward them. Then he turned his head +to Bushy, making a funny sound, as if he were waiting for her to do +something. + +“Oh, I see,” cried Bushy, “the lariat! Oh, Ned, I have no head like +you.” Whether Ned did mean that or not, Bushy always insists he did. +She threw the rope so her father got hold, and when Bushy was once on +dry land she pulled him out, too. Then he threw it to the other men, +who were floundering about like fish. The pony was drowned and Walt got +his leg broken. Rover was not in the water at all. He seemed to have +the instinct to run in the right direction. The wagon was swept down +stream a short distance and landed unharmed on a slight elevation in +the valley. + +Bushy gave Ned an extra big supper that night because he was the lucky +one to help pull them all out. Walt was the only one who had a hard +time in getting home. + +“I think much depended upon Bushy’s pants,” said her father that night, +after they reached the camp again. “I don’t believe any little girl +could have accomplished what our little boy did to-day.” + +Bushy’s greatest sorrow seemed to be that the red flannel that she so +faithfully promised Tom she would be careful of was all shrivelled up. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + + +“Padre, I am going out to try and catch a prairie-dog to-day!” called +out Bushy to her father one bright Fall morning just after he had +started for the mine. “Billy is lonesome, and I want to find another to +play with him.” + +Billy was a prairie-dog that Bushy had drowned out of his home over six +months before. He had become so tame that she could let him loose and +he would never go far from the shanty. He had red-brown hair on his +back, and his little feet and under parts were white. Although he was a +tiny baby prairie-dog when she drowned him out, he had grown almost a +foot long, and his cheek pouches were half an inch thick, and his body +round and clumsy. Perhaps you don’t know how they live. They burrow in +the ground and at the entrance to their holes throw up a mound that +looks very much like an ant-hill. The hole in the centre, or door, I +suppose the dogs call it, slopes down and finally divides into long +passages and hallways. The main hall is sometimes very long, and off +from it run these short burrows that end in a soft bed of dry grass +and leaves. + +One day Bushy coaxed Tom to help her carry water to Dogtown, as the +village of dogs was called, and she poured bucketful after bucketful +into one of the dog-houses, until finally a great sniffing and snorting +was heard. Soon the mother dog rushed out, and Bushy was so surprised +she failed to catch her, but she did get the baby that was most dead +when he got to the surface. Billy was that baby. + +He always barked and waggled his tail every time Bushy looked at him, +and the miners thought she could understand what Billy said to her, +because she talked just as if she did. They would play for hours +together, and Rover would look sullenly on. It took Rover some time +before he would give up teasing Billy, and more than once he boxed the +creature’s head so hard with his paw that Billy tumbled over and over +and howled. But he was a happy-go-lucky little fellow and did not mind +much. + +This lovely, sunny morning Bushy went way down the mountains into a +kind of low place between two peaks where a few dogs had built their +houses. They don’t often come up so high, but these always slept during +the winter and only came out when the sun shone in summer. + +“Look out for the snakes,” called her father as he swung his tools on +his shoulder. “A snake is ever liable to be where a prairie-dog is. +You had better take Rover along and Tom, too.” + +“Oh, Rover and Tom are going out after pitch-pine stumps in Stone +Gulch, and there is no way for me to ride with them. I won’t try to +drown the dog out, but take my net and throw it over him when he comes +out to say good-morning.” + +“All right,” cried her father; “but be careful and don’t go too far.” + +When the dogs hear anybody walking about their town they all come out +to see who it is, and then they stand on their hind legs and talk about +it. They spend much of their time gossiping. Their little heads popped +out when Bushy arrived, and each one stood up and barked a “how de do” +as best he could. + +“How de do,” cried Bushy, throwing her net at one of the nearest ones. +But he immediately dived into his hole and sent an owl to inquire what +was wanted. + +The prairie-dog is named dog only on account of his bark. He looks +more like a big, rough-haired rat than a dog. Prairie-dogs seldom grow +longer than thirteen inches. Burrowing owls and rattlesnakes always +live with them. The owls are small, not over a foot high, and have +stout legs and muscular claws, so that if they can find no prairie-dog +to give them a home, they can dig one for themselves. + +[Illustration: “HOW DE DO,” CRIED BUSHY, THROWING HER NET AT ONE OF THE +NEAREST ONES.] + +The owls sometimes devour the little prairie-dogs, but members of the +rival families seem, on the whole, to be on good terms. + +The snakes seldom bother the prairie-dogs until fall. Then they take up +their quarters in the homes of the dogs, and live there. One must not +think that the dog and owl select the snake as a companion, for that +is not the case. He is an intruder and too powerful an adversary to be +expelled. + +The little owl that came out to inquire what Bushy wanted, stood up +very straight and nodded his head three times and said, “quok, quok, +quok,” which Bushy always interpreted as “What you want?” + +There is nothing prettier in the world than to watch these little owls +nod. They do it just as anybody would. Their little heads nod and nod +until they are answered or frightened away. + +“I want your master or one of his children to come and live with my +Billy,” cried Bushy, making a long sweep with her net, that covered the +owl and caused a great fluttering and floundering that only entangled +him more and more in the net that made him Bushy’s prisoner. + +“I’ve got you,” cried Bushy with a laugh that died on her lips, for a +rattling sound that she recognized only too well greeted her ear. + +It was the warning of a rattlesnake, and Bushy turned her head to see +an extra long one coiled up, with his tail rising perpendicularly out +of the centre and shaking with such rapidity that the rattles looked +like a fan; his head was elevated ready to strike. + +Understanding so well the movements of the snake, Bushy knew that it +was quite ready to spring, and would, should she change her position or +make a move in either direction. Although the rattlesnake is not quick +to take offence, this one had evidently considered the attack on the +owl a personal affair. There was no terror in her face nor was there +despair, but the sense of danger made her intensely excited. + +Throwing her head backward and dropping her hand on the hilt of the +bowie-knife in her belt, she fixed her bright eyes on the snake and +watched. The seconds seemed to her hours. + +“Why don’t it strike, why don’t it strike?” + +Her heart seemed pumping fire instead of blood through her veins. A +peculiar rustling sound was heard, then the slimy thing darted through +the air. With a lightning-like movement, Bushy threw out her arm and +caught the snake just below the head and held it with her slender, wiry +fingers. The other hand, meanwhile not idle, drew from her belt the +bowie-knife and severed the head of the reptile, yet not before it had +buried its poisonous fangs in the end of her forefinger. + +[Illustration: SHE CAUGHT THE SNAKE JUST BELOW THE HEAD AND HELD IT +WITH HER SLENDER, WIRY FINGERS.] + +Though the body of the snake still coiled itself about her arm and the +cold tail flapped against her cheek, she so quickly cut the flesh from +the end of her finger that the poison had no chance to circulate with +the blood through her body. Then, taking hold of the wriggling thing, +she stripped it from her arm and threw it writhing, twisting, and +twirling down to the rocky bottom of the canyon. + +“That’s the end of you,” soliloquized Bushy, tying a piece of string +that she found in her pocket around the first joint of her finger, then +binding it with a strip of her cotton handkerchief. “Tom says a black +devil is in every rattler,” she said, as she pressed her heel on the +lifeless head and sank it deep in the earth. “I wonder if I have cut +off his head as I did yours?” + +She had some difficulty in tying the strip, took her sharp teeth to it, +and then continued her soliloquy: “I wonder what life is, and I wonder +what death is? I’ll ask the Padre, he knows.” + +Setting her cap with a jerk always characteristic of Bushy when ready +to depart, she started down the mountain with a swinging motion, +neither a walk nor a run. As her feet merely touched the stones, +sticks, and stumps in her progress downward, she would have appeared +to you more as if she were flying than walking. She would spring with +an energetic movement to a distant log or bowlder and hugging it +momentarily with her moccasined toes attain the proper impetus for the +next spring, a feat requiring the nicest precision. In this way, with +the greatest ease and without the slightest appearance of fatigue, she +reached the camp below--a style of descent which seemed as natural to +her as to the mountain sheep. + +“I didn’t get the dog, Padre,” she remarked to her father as he stood +watching her coming in that flying, skimming style, “but here’s the owl +that made the snake fight me,” and she landed plump in her father’s +arms. + +“It is more a mystery to me,” said Mr. Sukolt, “how you came down the +mountain side without being killed than that you found a snake there.” +He dressed her finger and gave her whiskey. Then he put her to bed, +where she slept soundly all night. She lost the nail on that finger, +but a new one grew, and there was only a scar left to show where she +had injured the bone a little when she so bravely clipped off the end +of her finger to prevent the poison spreading all over her body and +killing her. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + + +Next day after Bushy had been bitten by the snake, Mr. Sukolt had to +go with a load of ore to the nearest smelting works, which were miles +away, quite at the foot of the mountains, and as he was anxious about +Bushy he thought he would feel easier if he took her along. + +“You don’t think I will turn all black and blue, do you, Padre?” she +asked as she jumped on Ned and rode on ahead of the load of ore. + +“There is no telling; but I think cutting off your finger end as you +did, saved not only your hand but your life. How did you come to think +of doing that?” + +“Why, Tom told me one day that I must, because if the poison got into +my blood I would swell up as the mare did when she got her foot bitten.” + +“Tom was right, but still I doubt that I would have done it myself,” +answered her father, as he gazed lovingly at his wild little girl. + +“What are you up to now?” he asked, as she rose in her saddle and took +aim at something in the air. + +“Do you think I can kill that bird at long range?” + +“I don’t think I would try,” replied the father, “unless there is a +greater reason for killing it. It is a cruel sport to take the life of +anything unless you see a need of it.” + +“But I like to hunt, Padre,” murmured Bushy thoughtfully; “is it wrong +to hunt?” + +“Not if you want food; I don’t believe in hunting for sport alone. +I enjoy hunting, too, and we will leave the wagon with Tom and +try to kill a buffalo to-day if we see any sign of a herd in this +neighborhood. A few old fellows, they say, have been driven up the +valley. We will ride out ten miles and see what we can do. It would be +a great thing for us to take home a wagonful of buffalo.” + +They travelled all one day and part of the next, but saw no signs +of securing buffalo meat. But when they reached the mills where the +ore was to be crushed they were told that the mail-boy, who had just +arrived in his buckboard, had said that a big herd was not more than +five miles to the east. + +“Ah, there they are,” exclaimed Mr. Sukolt an hour later, when the two +horseback riders came in sight of a large herd of bison. The animals +were grazing quietly by a stream, where they had gone to drink. + +“There must be five hundred,” said Mr. Sukolt. “It would be a serious +thing if they should stampede. + +“Why, what can be the matter!” he cried, catching hold of Ned’s +bridle and guiding him close to his own horse. “What has got into the +animals, they are all coming this way? We are penned in by the hills! +Look, Bushy, your eyes are sharper than mine; can you tell what has +frightened them?” + +Bushy peered for a second into the distance beyond, then cried +excitedly: “There are four men driving them. Ah, there’s a shot; they +must be hunters after meat. What shall we do, Padre? Can’t we get to +one side?” + +“They have stampeded, sure as we sit here!” said Mr. Sukolt half to +himself. “We must try for the hills on the left. Keep close to me; now +for the race! If you are cut off shoot, of course, but don’t stop for +anything if there is hope of your getting out of their way.” + +They had been on the keen jump meanwhile and had made some headway, but +finally the buffalo came pell-mell, dashing down almost upon them. Mr. +Sukolt raised his rifle and tried to kill the leader at long range, but +he missed him. “We can’t get out of their way unless we kill one for +the rest to stumble over,” said Mr. Sukolt catching up with Bushy. + +Without saying a word Bushy raised her rifle and when the leader came +in range fired. She wounded him, for he fell, and immediately there +was a temporary halt, caused by the followers tumbling over him. The +excitement was something terrible. One big buffalo bull rolled over and +over, and one or two rolled over him, until there was quite a pile of +enraged animals bellowing in the centre of the stampede. Bushy and her +father took this opportunity to circle about and join the hunters who +had unwittingly almost caused their death. + +“Had no idea a living soul but ourselves was in the vicinity,” said +one old trapper as he rode up to Mr. Sukolt. “It’s a magnificent hunt; +we’ve killed three, that’s all we can pack away. Do you want to kill a +buffalo, little girl?” he called to Bushy who was following the herd. + +“Yes, sir!” she screamed back. “I never killed one in my life.” + +“Then get on my pony; he is a regular buffalo pony. Can you ride?” + +“Oh, yes, sir. I am not afraid.” + +“All right. Shall I let her try?” asked the man of Mr. Sukolt. + +“Yes, I’d like to have her try,” was the reply; so Bushy was lifted +quickly from Ned and seated on the back of the buffalo pony; then the +hunter jumped on Ned without as much as touching a foot to the ground, +and left Bushy alone on the trained pony. + +“Just let him go his own way. Don’t fire until you ride directly upon +the flank of the buffalo!” called out the hunter, and Bushy was soon on +the keen jump after the herd. + +Mr. Sukolt kept as close as he could, but the trained pony knew just +what to do. He managed to get a few buffalo circling round and round, +one after the other. Every animal had his nose down close to the +ground, and did not know that he was going round and round. Buffalo are +very short-sighted. + +“Now shoot,” the pony seemed to say, because he sidled up to one of the +buffalo and half halted. Bushy took the hint and fired. The buffalo +ran as if nothing had happened. You can shoot all day at a buffalo and +unless you hit him in the right spot he doesn’t mind it; his hide is so +tough it even protects him from bullets. Without any warning the pony +dashed ahead, and when he got up directly on the flank of the great +buffalo calf, Bushy fired again, and this time down he came.[1] + +[1] This buffalo was, in 1876, displayed with other animals in the +Maxwell collection, in the Colorado building, at the time of the +Centennial Exposition held at Philadelphia. + +The other animals then broke ring and followed the main herd, but Bushy +was the proudest hunter in camp that night over the fact that she had +killed one of the finest specimens of buffalo that had been secured for +many a day. The head was so beautiful that Mr. Sukolt would not consent +to its being thrown away, but had the skin as well as the head saved +and sent to Denver, where a taxidermist fixed it up as if it were alive +again. + +[Illustration: BUSHY FIRED AGAIN, AND THIS TIME DOWN HE CAME.] + + + + +CHAPTER X + + +Picture to yourself a girl of eleven summers as she came one day +out of one of the shanties at Great Pine Mine; a little girl still, +dressed in coffee sacks, two making the skirt and one the blouse, which +was gathered at the waist with a yellow strap. Snatching up a rope +bridle that lay on a broken bench under the window, she ran to a horse +“picketed” twenty feet away, sprang on his back and went dashing at +break-neck speed up and down the rough road that led to the mines. An +old man approaching the camp was startled by the loud clatter of the +horse’s hoofs, and his wrinkled face turned a shade more saffron-like +when he recognized the rider. He dropped his pick and shovel, and with +long strides soon reached a bend, where, out of sight, he waited for +the horse and child. + +“Fly, Ned, fly!” cried the little girl, and the horse stretched his +long limbs to cover more ground. They turned the bend and on seeing the +old man, the little girl reined up the horse so sharply that she was +nearly thrown over his head. + +“Great goodness! I most went off that time, didn’t I?” she panted. +“What are you standing in the middle of the road for, anyway, Tom? And +why do you look so queer? Oh, dear, are you sick? Here, can you hold +the bridle? I’ll get you a drink from the brook in a jiffy.” + +Before he could reply she was beside him winding the rope round his +hand, saying: “Hold him tight, he is skittish, you know.” She snatched +off her buckskin cap and in less than a minute brought it back full of +clear, cold water. + +“Wall, I’ll swaller it since you’ve gone and got it; but I don’t want +water; nothin’s the matter with me.” He drank from the cap while Bushy +looked on approvingly. “I jes’ thought Ned was runnin’ away, and I’d +try and stop him as he turned this corner,” said Tom, striking her cap +on his knee, three or four times after he had taken the drink from it. + +“Oh, fiddlesticks!” and her sunburnt face clouded with a frown. + +“Wall, you’ve no business ridin’ like that, anyway; I’m sure as sartin +we’ll never raise you, never! And, golly, ’tain’t cause there ain’t +enough of us to look after you, but you are so tomfoolery foolish.” + +“Then, you were not sick, after all,” said Bushy, “and I’ve lost my bet +and ducked my cap, and--give it to me, you wicked old man. You will get +no more drink from me--so there!” She snatched her cap and sent such a +ripple of laughter from her cherry-red lips that the mountains on all +sides lovingly echoed it. + +“What was your bet, Bushy?” + +“Oh, that I could run from the camp to the mines in five minutes if +the Indians were after me.” She sprinkled him well with what water she +could shake from the cap; and then with a jerk drew it down tight on +her tangled head. + +With a jolly little laugh, she sang “hitchity, hatchet, my little red +jacket, and up I go,” and, mounting the pony with one leap, turned her +quaint, oldish face toward Tom and motioned for him to hand her the +rope bridle. + +“Who’d you bet with?” he asked, tying an extra knot in the old rope +before handing it to her. + +“Why, with myself, of course, you funny old fellow! I couldn’t bet with +the rats, could I? And what else is there in the shanty when everybody +is at the mine? even Rover is off hunting with padre.” + +“You don’t say, Bushy, that the Padre is still out? That’s bad. Shanks +brought news from the blacksmith’s that the Indians in the reservation +are ugly!” + +Bushy’s face seemed to grow older; the smile disappeared, the lips +became compressed, and her hands grasped more tightly the rope that +made Ned her prisoner. + +“And Padre went up Eureka Gulch, didn’t he, Tom?” + +“That’s so, but then, chick, don’t fret; he is good enough for a dozen +redskins any day. You might, though, as long as you are on Ned, go to +the mine and talk with Shanks about it. I’ll bet you that mountain +sheep’s head I brought in last week that you will find the Padre with +me when you get back.” She was already on her way and had time only to +call out, “All right!” as she disappeared in the ravine. + +“I’ve lost the sheep’s head, sure as sartin,” mumbled the old man, +stooping for his tools. “The padre has heard about the Indians and is +layin’ low to come in under cover of dark. He won’t run a risk--for the +chick’s sake. Poor chicken without any mother!” + +He swung the heavy pick and shovel on his shoulder, tucked a chunk of +tobacco in his left cheek, then shambled off, shaking his head and +grumbling. + +“Halloa!” shouted Shanks, as Bushy approached the mine. “You always +come in the nick of time. Here is Rover with a note from the Padre +pinned on his shaggy coat, saying”---- + +“Oh, please, Shanks, let me read it!” and not waiting for him to hand +her the paper, she leaned over, deftly slipped it out of his fingers, +and read: + + STONE GULCH.--Spott has hurt her foot and limps dreadfully. Got a + bear; trying to bring it home for Thanksgiving dinner. I walk. Send + Bushy on Ned up Stone Path to meet me. + + PADRE. + +“All right, I’ll go. Show it to Tom,” said Bushy, returning the note. +“Could you strap your tool-bag on Ned for me?” She dismounted and they +both tried to make a saddle out of the bag. “What’s the matter? Won’t +it go round?” + +Shanks was looking in despair at his strap, which lacked a foot of +encircling Ned’s plump body. “Here’s my belt; that will just fix it. +Good, good! Now I’d just like to see a redskin catch me!” + +“But, Bushy, I really think that you had better let me go. I heard +something to-day about”---- + +“Oh, yes; I know. The Indians. Tom told me. But don’t you see if there +should be any trouble, father and I could both ride Ned, and if you go, +both being so big, one of you would be left, sure.” + +“That’s all true, little wise-head. Off with you then. Wait! Let me fix +you up with my belt and revolver. I don’t suppose there’s an Indian +within fifteen miles of here, but if you see one, and he even looks +cross-eyed at you, pop him over.” + +Lightly jumping on Ned, riding astride--as she always did when on a +dangerous mission--and pulling down her cap, she called: “Rover! here, +Rover; I want you. Good-by, Shanks. We are off for the Padre!” Rover +set up a barking loud and joyous. Ned stood on his hind legs for a +moment; then the three went flying up Stone Path to render greater +assistance than any of them thought. + +Bushy had gone about three miles and had arrived at the point where the +path she had been following led into the main road at right angles, +when she noticed that Rover began to show great uneasiness, and Ned +snorted and tossed his head as he always did when he scented danger. +She drew her rein, slipped quickly down, threw herself at full length +on the ground, and, placing her ear close to the sod, listened. + +“By jiminy!” she exclaimed, “some one is coming in both directions.” +Again she listened. “Ah! one horse limps; that must be Spott. Now who +can be coming from the other direction? A redskin, I’ll bet my head!” +She jumped up quickly; and quietly led Ned behind a huge bowlder and +wound the bridle around a snag that grew in a crevice. “Poor Ned,” she +said, “how you do tremble! You are just as scared of the Indians as I +am.” She snapped her fingers at Rover, who whined and crouched at +her feet. Then she drew and cocked her revolver. + +[Illustration: AT THE SAME MOMENT CAME A REPORT FROM BUSHY’S REVOLVER.] + +“I wonder if I have done the right thing in hiding here,” thought +Bushy. “Will they meet near here or pass beyond. Good gracious, how +fast that horse is coming! Will father never get here! It is an Indian! +Whizeration!” she exclaimed, as she ducked behind the bowlder. A Navajo +rode into sight, bristling all over with weapons. He had two sets of +bows and arrows, one revolver, two bowie-knives, and a tomahawk. He +bent over and looked anxiously ahead, as if expecting to meet some one. + +“Oh, if he looks behind we are dead, that’s sure!” thought Bushy. + +Just then Spott limped into sight. Bushy saw at a glance that her +father was not prepared for the Indian. She reeled, and you would have +felt certain she was going to fall; but, clutching her revolver, her +face taking on that same queer, old expression, she glided out, where +she could take good aim at the Indian. + +Mr. Sukolt, expecting Bushy, and knowing nothing of the Indian trouble +had not thought it strange to hear a horse coming. At the sight of the +Indian he jerked Spott sideways, just in time to escape an arrow. At +the same moment came a report from Bushy’s revolver. The Indian reeled +and fell head first off the pony, but, like a rubber ball, was up +with a bound, and, giving a blood-curdling yell, raised his tomahawk +and sprang at Bushy. She fired again, but missed him--the shot taking +effect in the breast of poor Spott, who had wheeled herself in direct +line of the firing. + +Bushy saw Spott fall, and, fearing that her father was hurt, she +screamed, “Padre, Padre! what have I done?” Then she was thrown flat on +the ground, face downward, by Rover, who, till then, had not left her +heels. At her cry, he sprang upon her back, over her head, and clinched +his big white teeth in the throat of the Indian, just as the savage was +about to strike Bushy’s head with his tomahawk. The struggle between +man and beast lasted only a second, for the butt of Mr. Sukolt’s +revolver, which he brought down with all his force on the skull of the +redskin, would have knocked the latter senseless had not the bullet +fired by Bushy already done its work. The fellow fell dead with Rover +still clinging to his throat. + +“Off with you, Rover, you noble fellow,” called Mr. Sukolt. “He is +dead--dead as a door-nail.” Then, turning to Bushy, who had scrambled +to her feet, he took her in his arms, saying: “Brave little girl, this +isn’t the first time you have saved me with that revolver of yours.” + +“Not mine this time, but Shanks’s, and it was so heavy, and I was so +afraid of shooting you that I missed my second fire. Oh, come away! Oh, +come back! Shanks told me of the Indians around the blacksmith’s and +there may be more with this one.” She trembled like a leaf, and her +face was ashen white. + +“Look, Padre, the Indian pony’s lariat is entangled about Spott’s body. +If you can catch him we can yet take home the bear.” + +“I will catch him, for the boys at camp are famishing for fresh meat,” +said Mr. Sukolt, “though we run a little risk by the delay.” + +“We will both ride Ned and I will lead this pony with his load of +meat,” remarked Mr. Sukolt, as he came up with the frightened animal. + +“Yes, let’s hurry; I’m so frightened. Ugh! The horrid Indian, don’t +touch him, Padre!” she screamed. But Mr. Sukolt thought best to drag +the body behind the bowlder and away from the main road. With one +regretful look at Spott, lying dead in the path, they rode away--Bushy +and her father on Ned; Bushy guiding the horse, while the Indian pony, +with the bear, was led by Mr. Sukolt. + +They reached camp in time for Tom to cook some of the bear for the +Thanksgiving dinner. Six miners, Tom, and Shanks, the father and Bushy, +all sat around the wooden table and ate none the less merrily for the +day’s strange adventures. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + + +Bushy continued as little housekeeper for her father at Great Pine +Mine until December of the next year. Mr. Sukolt was then called south +to Cross Roads, a settlement composed of miners only. He went there +to judge a “lead” that was up for sale and draw maps of the mining +district. Bushy went with him, as she explained to Tom, to “watch out +for his papers and cook his victuals.” + +It was Christmas morning and Bushy had got up bright and early to +prepare the breakfast. + +“Pickle and herring! but this is a dish fit for a king with a crown on. +Stir, dip, taste,” she sang, swallowing a big spoonful of the savory +soup. It seems odd to have soup for breakfast, but that is what they +did have that Christmas morning. + +“Very much taste, it seems to me,” interrupted a voice from the corner +of the tumble-down shanty in which Mr. Sukolt and his daughter had +passed the night. “Within the last twenty minutes you have sampled that +soup just twenty-one and a half times.” + +“Padre mio!” exclaimed Bushy, striking a most tragic attitude before +him. “I do not object to twenty-one, but the half. How could I sample +anything half a time?” + +[Illustration: “PICKLE AND HERRING! BUT THIS IS A DISH FIT FOR A KING +WITH A CROWN ON.”] + +“That’s so. How could you,” replied the father, his face beaming with +love. “I had forgotten that you never do things by halves, even to +loving the Padre; eh, little girl?” + +“I don’t know about that,” she laughed. “I’m afraid you are not so +awfully good in arithmetic, Padre;” then she turned her attention to +the soup again. “Golly, but it’s hot! Just try some, won’t you?” she +cried, extending the spoon toward him. + +“No, thank you, I will take your word for it; only tell me how much +there is left when you get through sampling,” replied the father. + +Bushy and her father had been more than once without anything to eat, +and at this time of the year, way down where they were, so far from +anybody, they had again found themselves almost out of everything in +the line of food. + +“Oh, I guess there will be enough, but perhaps I had better put in a +little more water,” remarked Bushy, and with a mischievous twinkle in +her eyes she darted for the water-can. + +“Don’t you dare do that!” exclaimed her father, jumping up from the +roll of buffalo skins on which he had been sitting writing. With a +little chasing and some lively scuffling, he pinioned her arms behind +her and in the midst of her hearty laughter said: + +“If you don’t mind, Miss Cook, I prefer my drinks not mixed; I will +take first the soup and then the water.” + +“But do you think you can tell one from the other?” inquired Bushy, +saucily. + +They both took a peep into the kettle, Bushy ready to enjoy the +surprise she had in store for her father. + +“By my faith, but it does look like soup and smells accordingly! Why, +what do you call it and how did you make such a raise?” + +“Oh, Padre, don’t bother your head over the name. The name won’t count +if you like it. This morning when you were snoozing I crawled out to +look for game, for, you know, we had nothing for breakfast but crackers +and bacon. As good luck would have it, I spied this squirrel. I popped +him over with this,” she lovingly patted her gun as it hung on the +shanty wall; “and here he is, chopped in tiny bits with the crackers +and bacon.” + +They both laughed merrily, Bushy filled the two tin cups with soup +and took out fresh crackers from the provision box, while her father +put away his books and papers in a very much worn carpet-bag. Then he +stretched out a buffalo skin for Bushy to sit on and made two of the +others into a roll to serve as a seat for himself. He took a cup of +soup, seated himself, and said: + +“Now for the lesson; what is it to-day, Bushy?” + +“It commences with the word ‘There.’ The sentence is, ‘There are many +Spaniards in America;’ but how do you like the soup; it’s good, isn’t +it?” + +“Excellent!” murmured Mr. Sukolt. “A New York chef couldn’t have +treated me better than you have this morning.” He held the cup in hand, +opened the well-fingered grammar, put it beside him on the skins, and +then, before taking another swallow of soup, said: + +“All right now, go ahead with your grammar.” + +“There are many [she swallowed soup] Spaniards [more soup] in America, +and I suppose there are many Americans in Spain, too. Let me see,” +again she stopped for soup, “where did you tell me Spain is?” She +raised her bright face to her father. + +“In Europe,” he replied. + +“I wish I had a geography, Padre; I am so hungry for one that I just +guess I’ll kill the first person I find with one; that is if he don’t +want to give it to me,” said Bushy, much to her father’s astonishment. + +“Bushy, you are an odd child, but you are happy, are you not?” Mr. +Sukolt waited rather anxiously for her reply. + +“Guess so,” she said, musingly; “but sometimes I think my feelings +don’t depend so much on what you think is the best thing for me, as +they depend on what I think is the best thing for me. + +“Now, I’d be awfully happy if you would give me a geography that tells +about the fairylands where you and my mother used to live, instead of +giving me meat for supper,” added Bushy, thoughtfully. + +“You will note one thing as you grow older, my little girl; that when +you get the geography it will call for an atlas, and the atlas for a +trip round the world, and so on, your desires always being just as +strong as they are now for something you haven’t got.” + +“You don’t know me, Padre. I’ll outwit your philosophy by never wishing +for what I can’t get. Who wants to go around the world? Why I’m twelve +years old and mistress of this establishment. What do I want more! +Hurrah!” With another peal of laughter she waved high the tin of soup, +as if pledging the beauties of the tumble-down shanty. + +“This won’t do!” exclaimed Mr. Sukolt, jumping up and running his +fingers through Bushy’s tangled hair, “you’ve got out of a lesson +again, you little witch! We must start right off or we will not catch +Tom with the wagon at Cross Roads.” + +While packing up the camp articles Bushy kept up a constant chatter. + +“Padre,” she cried, as a new thought came to her, “you told me that on +this trip I would see some children. Where are the children?” + +She threw herself down on the bundle of robes that Mr. Sukolt was +trying to tie up, and her laughing eyes peeped up at him through her +fluffy hair which had fallen so as to almost cover her face. + +“Show me the children or I will strike for higher wages. Think of it, +Padre! I cannot remember ever seeing any children. Yes, I’ll strike for +higher wages or for Great Pine Mine; so there.” And again the shanty +was filled with her ringing laugh. + +“Get up, you little rascal, and help me with these bundles. Now, what +would you do if we should run against a little boy, say to-day, at +Cross Roads?” + +“Kiss him, and if he is very, very sweet, eat him up. Do you think we +can buy a geography there, Padre?” she asked wistfully. “I don’t know +which I want to see the most, a geography or a baby--a real live baby.” + +“Well, we will soon find out what is there,” said Mr. Sukolt, firmly +tying all the bundles on to the pack-horse and mounting his own. “Are +you ready to start?” + +“Almost,” she answered, coiling the lariat so as to attach it to the +saddle; then with it still in her hand she sprang on Ned’s back and +called to Rover, who was gnawing at the squirrel’s head. + +Hearing a noise they both looked up. Coming down the path, about a +quarter of a mile away, was a horseman, and it was obvious to Bushy and +her father that the rider had lost all control of the animal he rode. + +“He sits badly for a Mexican!” exclaimed Mr. Sukolt, “yet I think he +will come out all right.” + +“He isn’t a Mexican; he’s a soldier,” cried Bushy. Then, frightened by +a second thought, she screamed: + +“The ravine! the ravine! This path leads straight over the precipice! +Oh, Padre, his horse can never stop after he turns the bend!” + +They both started toward the soldier, neither knowing just what they +were going to do. + +Mr. Sukolt spied the lariat which Bushy still held in her hand. + +“Lariat him! lariat him!” he commanded in a stern, hard voice, checking +his pony at the same time. + +“But can I?” came from her pale lips. + +“Try it, child! try it! There is no time for me to take the lariat now!” + +Again the queer old look settled on her face. There was only time to +swing the lariat three times over her head and let go when the horse +dashed past her. Ned stubbornly planted his feet and awaited the +accustomed pull--it came, and with it headlong into the snowy path fell +the soldier. The horse, lightened of his load, went at yet madder speed +around the rocks out of sight to its death. + +The man lay perfectly still. Bushy sprang from Ned and ran to him. Mr. +Sukolt was already cutting the rope that had settled over the soldier’s +head and wound around his body, pinioning both his arms tight to his +sides. + +“I have killed him!” murmured Bushy, opening his shirt and feeling for +his heart. + +“No, I think he is only stunned. The snow was deep and saved him,” +replied her father. + +As the blood commenced to ooze from the wounds where the rope had cut +into the flesh, the soldier opened his eyes and attempted to raise +himself, but with an ejaculation of pain, fell back again. He gazed at +Mr. Sukolt and then at Bushy, and in a bewildered manner exclaimed: + +“What has happened to me now?” + +Bushy was so delighted to hear him speak that she burst into tears and +cried: + +“I didn’t kill him; I didn’t kill him!” + +“You were going fast to your death, young man,” said Mr. Sukolt, as +he raised the man to a sitting position. “You are alive now simply +because the lariat checked you. Try to stand up and see if you are +very much hurt.” + +Assisted by Bushy and her father, the soldier struggled to his feet, +shook himself, then pointed significantly to his left sleeve. + +“Oh, Padre, his arm is broken,” cried Bushy; “but that is not so bad as +a leg, is it?” She looked up wistfully in the soldier’s face; and he +laughed, quietly saying, “Quite right, little girl; quite right.” + +“No, nor a neck,” replied Mr. Sukolt, smiling. + +Once more the sun seemed to shine, and Bushy, withdrawing her support, +stepped a little to one side, threw up her cap, and gave three wild +hurrahs to express her joy over having saved the soldier from the +ravine. + +They all three went then to the edge of the precipice and looked down. +There was the poor horse mangled to death on the sharp rocks below. +When they returned to the shanty Bushy helped to bind up the broken +arm, and the soldier rode behind the child on Ned to Cross Roads. + +He was an officer in the Government Army and insisted that Bushy +should have a grand Christmas dinner in the camp with the rest of +the officers. So Tom drove them all in the wagon over to the camp, +where Bushy was made the heroine of the day. The captain learned how +she longed for a geography, so he sent to New York, and said that a +geography should be included in the next wagon-load of freight sent to +them. It was, and Bushy has that book to this very day. She thinks it +the finest Christmas present she ever got, and that dinner with the +soldiers the grandest dinner she ever ate. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + + +“He is a mean man and I won’t ever like him any”---- + +“Sh! Don’t say anything you will be sorry for, Bushy,” said her father, +as he looked down upon his little daughter, who stood grabbing at her +short hair with both brown hands. Bushy had lost her temper and was +racing about the tent in a passion, stamping her feet and digging her +heels into the soft dirt floor. + +“But Tom teases me awfully, and just now he said I looked like a +boy, rode like a boy, talked like a boy, and whistled like a boy. +That wasn’t all, either; he said I didn’t love you, that I was just +pretending, and, oh, I could”--Words were not strong enough, so she +took up a hammer and gave vent to her feelings by breaking into a fine +powder some specimens that the miners had brought in for her father to +look at. + +Mr. Sukolt stooped down and took both her hands in his. “Was Tom in +earnest, do you think?” + +“Maybe he was only teasing, but it makes me so mad,” replied Bushy, +and her eyes filled with angry tears. + +“Little girl, if you were in danger and I was not here, whom would you +run to first for protection?” + +Bushy’s face flushed, but she unhesitatingly answered: “Why, Tom, of +course! He has helped me out lots of times.” + +“Then there is a lesson for you to learn on gratitude. It begins”---- + +“Oh, Padre, don’t say any more. What a naughty girl I have been to get +so mad at Tom for nothing! Dear old Tom! Why, Padre, I love him ’most +as much as I do you. I’ll go find him and make it all up.” + +She hurried away singing at the top of her voice as she disappeared +behind the tent. + +They had arrived at Gold Dust Hill, half way home. Bushy had not made +the acquaintance of half the miners at the stopping-place, but a great +amount of attention had been paid her already. The men told her to call +on them early in the morning before they started to work, and each +would show her over his particular cabin. She found Tom feeding the +horses, and they started to make the promised morning calls. + +“You are the first little girl I have seen since I left mine in the +States,” said a miner with a cross face and very heavy black eyebrows. +His kind, gentle voice would have been a surprise to anybody but +Bushy. Everybody was kind to her, and if there was the least bit of +tenderness left in a miner’s heart, it always expressed itself in some +way when Bushy came around. + +“Let me see what I can find for you,” he said, taking her by the hand +and going into the log cabin where he kept the wooden box containing +all his treasures. “Ah! this will do. It will make up into a bright +dress for you.” He took from the box a roll of red flannel and put it +into Bushy’s arms. “That we have kept to have handy if any of us had +the fever, but it had better be used, I think, to keep the only little +girl in camp from getting sick.” + +Every miner looked about him for something to give Bushy. It seemed to +be the only way he could show how glad he was to see a little child +once more. “Can you read?” asked one old shaggy-bearded man who looked, +Bushy thought, like a grizzly bear. “I will give you this if you can +read,” and he brought carefully to view one-half of a weekly story +paper. It had part of a continued story in it. “You can imagine how it +ends,” said the miner. “It is ’most all there.” + +The story did not interest Bushy half so much as the picture. It was +of a woman, who seemed to her to be shaking hands with a man. There +was poetry called “Oh, take my love!” under the picture, and it +provoked her very much that the lines said not a word about the good-by +appropriate to such a farewell scene. “I could write better than that,” +she said to herself. Bushy knew nothing about love-making. + +By the time Bushy had made the rounds of the cabins her arms were +loaded down with treasures that for years had been carefully guarded by +the men. One who was particularly pleased that Bushy could read, gave +her a part of a slate to write her lessons on. “Be very careful,” he +said, “and break off just as little as possible when you want to write, +because every time you take off the splinters to write with, the slate +grows smaller, and some day you will have nothing but a splinter left.” + +They had no slate pencils, and the only way to write on the slate was +to break a little piece off the edge. + +Bushy returned to her father’s tent and spent the rest of the morning +examining her rich store of presents. The flannel was bright red, and +oh, so soft and fine! “I will wind it all about me and wear it so,” +she said. “I will never let Tom cut it.” She took one end and pinned +it to her blouse, then began to wind and wind and wind until when she +came to the other end it had gone two or three times about her neck, +and arms, and legs, and waist, making her look like a clown dressed for +the circus. She put on her hat, and, with the paper spread out on her +lap, took up her slate and began to write a piece of poetry, trying to +put more sense into it than there was in the lines under that strange +picture. + +“Hallo! What in the world is this?” called Mr. Sukolt, as he came in +from his visit to the mine. + +“Ha! ha! you don’t know me, perhaps,” replied the queer red object in +the tent door. Bushy stood up and bowed low before him. Bushy was not a +pretty little girl--just a common, every-day little girl that all the +miners loved better than they did even the gold-dust that they dug so +hard for. Tom got a glimpse of her and called to some miners near, and +Shanks, always up to a jolly time, threw down his load of tools, and, +picking up the banjo, called out: “Attention, gentlemen! We will now +present to you Mlle. Bushy Sukolt, famous not so much for her beauty as +for being the only child in camp.” Bushy made a little mouth at him, +and the miners seeing there was a treat in store, threw themselves +comfortably on the ground and looked on with smiling faces. + +“Mlle. Bushy will now give you the Great Pine Mine jig, in which +performance she is the star of the world.” + +“Bravo!” cried the rough miners, who clapped their hard hands until +the birds stopped singing to wonder over the noise. + +Bushy threw kisses to the right and left from the tips of her sunburnt +fingers; then as the banjo struck up her favorite tune, “The Irish +Washerwoman,” she suddenly made a leap into the middle of the tent, +and, oh, such dancing! She went so fast and turned so quick she looked +like a great red ball whirling in the air. There were the single +shuffle, the double shuffle, then a whirl that carried her into the +French style, and from that she suddenly whisked off into the English +style of jigging, and just as the miners thought she must be ready to +drop with fatigue, she stepped off into the Spanish dance, with its +free and swaying motions, so restful after the energetic negro steps +that she invariably used for the liveliest strains of music. Her hair +seemed to stand on end and dance in the breeze that her rapid movements +created. The red flannel began to unwind, and the ends floated out in +great flaming streamers, making the dance a veritable serpentine one +of modern days. Shanks’s fingers fairly flew over the banjo. Faster +and faster went Bushy’s feet, keeping time not only to the banjo, but +to the clapping of hands and boot-tapping, for the miners could no +more keep still than the child herself. Some whistled the tune, others +hummed it in loud bass voices. One old fellow got so enthusiastic +that his “Hi! hi! yep!” every now and then lent vim to the whole +performance. Finally, when it seemed that every head, hand, and foot +could not go faster without dropping off, Bushy made a sudden bound +out of the tent into the very arms of Tom, who, with a profound bow, +pronounced the entertainment at an end. + +“It’s not stretchin’ a p’int to say that the gal is amazing bright,” +said a toothless old man who wanted to say something complimentary +of Bushy to Mr. Sukolt. “It’s worth while bein’ a family man,” said +another, “if you kin own a peach blossom like that.” “She is a diamond +in the rough, old fellow,” spoke up another, as he patted Bushy on the +head and gazed admiringly into her flushed hot face. “Better take care +of her.” “She is a fairy in disguise, and some morning you will wake +up and find her gone back to fairyland,” remarked the superintendent +of the mines. “No wonder the boys have given her all their treasures.” +He pointed to the slate, the paper, the yards of red flannel, certain +nuggets of ore, ball and bat, and a bow and arrow. + +“Well, Padre,” said she, after the men had disappeared over the hill +and the two were alone again in the tent, “this is the loveliest place +we ever camped in. The men are awful nice, and I love every one +of them. They said I was a pretty girl and a nice girl and a jolly +girl--they never said a word about my being like a boy.” She wound the +flannel about her again, and with the paper in one hand and the slate +in the other began a hornpipe, “just to calm me down a little,” she said. + +[Illustration: THE DANCE WAS A VERITABLE SERPENTINE ONE OF MODERN DAYS.] + +“Bushy!” exclaimed her father, and she stopped short. There was +something in his voice that sounded cold and hard after all the lovely +things she had been hearing. “Bushy, you may go and call Tom. Tell him +to pack, take down the tent, and hitch the horses.” + +“Why, Padre, we were to stay here four days. What is the matter? I am +so happy; everybody is so good to me and says such nice things.” She +sighed and lovingly smoothed down the red flannel, hugged her slate +close to her and slipped the paper inside her blouse. + +“Ah, yes, that is it!” remarked her father in a most solemn manner, and +he ran his hands through his hair as if in great trouble. “They did say +you were an exceptionally fine girl.” + +“Yes,” murmured Bushy, and her face lighted with pleasure. + +“And they all seem to think you the brightest little girl in the world.” + +“Yes, yes,” again replied Bushy, as she let drop her treasures to fall +on her knees and throw her arms about her father. “The big, tall man +said he would give everything he had in the world if he could have +a little girl just like me.” She kissed her father’s face all over, +pinched his nose and pulled his ears and ended her expressions of joy +with a tight hug. + +“Well, Bushy, that quite settles it! Hurry and give my orders to Tom; +we must get away from here to-night.” Her father assumed a sternness +that quite awed Bushy. + +“But why, Padre?” she half whispered. + +“You see, little tomboy, when you become so popular that people believe +you without faults, then, Bushy, I tell you it is time to pull up +stakes and move on to the next camp.” + +Bushy’s eyes grew wide with astonishment and wonder, and, to make his +explanation perfectly plain, her father continued: “You see, child, we +must leave while your reputation is good, because”--here her father +held her out at arm’s length, and she was puzzled more than ever over +the merry twinkle in his eyes--“because, you know, they might find you +out.” + +Bushy fell all in a heap in the middle of the tent and covered her +flaming face with her hands. Then summoning up all her courage, she +jumped to her feet and facing him, said: “Ah, Padre, I have had two +good lessons to-day! My! I was fairly walking on air! Their praise so +puffed me up! They made me forget I had an awful temper; they made me +forget I was mad this morning. I really thought I was almost an angel; +but I’ll not forget this lesson. You have such a funny way of showing +me that I am nothing but an every-day little girl after all.” + +Long years afterward, when Bushy was a woman, she wrote to her father +a glowing account of her success in life, telling him how many friends +she had gained, how good everybody was, and altogether the letter was +full of self-pride and glory, showing she was “walking on air” again. +But she was called to earth with startling suddenness when, five days +later, a telegram came flashing over the wires, crossing the broad +continent with lightning quickness, bearing this message: + +“Bushy, dear--I advise you to pull up stakes and move on to the next +camp. Padre.” + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + + +Bushy was back at Great Pine Mine three weeks after Christmas and was +settling down to every-day housekeeping again. + +“Halloo! What are you two old fellows talking about, that you stop +short the minute I come in,” said Bushy as she stood in the doorway +with her arms loaded down with the fresh pine-boughs she had gathered, +with which to make the supper-fire. + +“About you, Puss.” + +The wood tumbled in a heap at her feet. Something in her father’s +voice told her that all was not well. She put her arms, still fragrant +with the perfume of the pine, about his neck, and asked: “Are you ill, +Padre? Have I been so long getting the wood for the fire? Oh, I have +found a new bird to-night and could not come in till I had learned to +sing his song. I fooled him, too. He thought I was his mate calling, +and came so close that I caught him. Here he is,” she exclaimed as she +drew from her breast a frightened bird that gladly escaped through the +door when tossed up to amuse her father. “I know that I am a naughty +little woman, but you don’t mind, do you?” Then she hugged him tight. + +“Look out, chicken,” cried Tom, throwing out his long arms and pulling +Bushy to one side; “don’t touch your father’s foot; it is hurt.” + +“Oh, Padre! why didn’t you tell me? I did hurt you, didn’t I?” + +She fell on her knees before him and began to examine the foot. + +“A rock in the mine got loosened some way,” said Tom, “and as we were +coming out to-night it fell, grazing your father’s head and mashing his +foot. We ought not to complain, Mr. Sukolt, for an inch to the left and +it would have been your brains instead of blood we left there.” + +“Who dressed it?” inquired Bushy, noticing that it was bandaged. + +“I did the best I could, but what I was suggesting was that you go for +Shanks, who is at the blacksmith’s. He was a surgeon before he came to +the mines, and, I think, ought to see this foot; I fear the bones are +broken; the flesh is so cut I can’t make anything out.” + +By the time Tom had finished his sentence Bushy was half dressed for +the journey. She was sitting on the shanty floor winding strips of +coffee-sack about her feet and legs, for the night was bitterly cold. +Tom got down to assist her. + +“Now, you two are so quick you don’t give me time to think,” said her +father, watching them as they hurried through the preparations. “I wish +some one besides Bushy could do this. Look here, Tom, don’t you think +it possible to manage Ned?” + +“It’s no use, Padre, to lose time that way,” spoke up Bushy; “he threw +Tom yesterday, and you know he acts as if Old Nick himself were in him +when any one else gets on his back. It’s an awful nuisance, and I’m +going to break him of it if I have to break his neck, so there! but it +won’t do to try now, with your foot mashed like that. Wrap your shawl +about my head, Tom, please, and then tie it in a knot behind. There, +that’s the way; now I am ready. Do you think I can take the short cut?” + +“Oh, how the snow blows!” exclaimed Mr. Sukolt. “I don’t think it wise, +Bushy; the bridge at the ravine might be snowed over. Tom, come here +quick and loosen the bandage. I fear I cannot stand the pain, it”---- + +Mr. Sukolt bent over, tried to move his foot, and fainted. + +“Don’t leave him, Tom,” screamed Bushy. “I can saddle Ned myself,” and, +giving one tearful look at her father, she took from the wall Ned’s +bridle and went out. + +At last all was ready; buckling about her waist the belt that carried +two revolvers, and drawing on her thick mitts, she jumped on Ned and +away they went. + +Through the cold wind and blinding snow they ran, up one hill, down +another--Ned knew the way to the blacksmith’s and so did Bushy. There +was no fear. On, on they sped, until they came to the point where she +must take the short cut or the longer route. + +“I’ll do it,” said Bushy aloud--she often talked to Ned as if he were +a boy companion. “We’ll make an hour by going this way, so on with +you, old fellow, and no falls, no stumbles, for we can’t afford any +accidents to-night, with the Padre lying so white and still in the +shanty.” + +Ned shortened his long strides and began to pick his way over a +snow-drift, when in the quiet that fell about them a faint bark, way, +way off in the distance was heard. Ned stood stock still, raised both +ears straight up, turned his head toward the west, then toward the +east, and listened. Bushy’s heart beat so loud she could hear it go +thump, thump, against her ribs. + +“Padre mio! not wolves, not wolves!” she murmured. “Oh, Ned, Ned, you +can never take me through a pack of wolves!” Another bark, and another +and another came more distinctly to their ears. Ned gave one snort and +plunged forward so suddenly he almost unseated Bushy, but she grabbed +the pommel, regained a firm seat, took up the reins and cried: “Go it, +Ned! we are in for a race for life or death. On with you! but if you +stumble you will never have Bushy to ride you any more.” + +There was no need to urge Ned; he was running as fast as he could. + +“If they come in sight I’ll try to shoot the head one; it always +makes a break in their running, for they are a cowardly lot without a +leader,” thought Bushy. + +Finally Ned struck a long stretch of road that circled a mountain. + +“Now they will come in sight before we get around this,” thought Bushy, +and so they did. Nearer and nearer came the pack, with their fiendish +yelling and howling that frightened poor Ned until he became almost +unmanageable. + +“Whoa! whoa! Ned. They are gaining on us. I’ve got to kill one or we +are lost. Whoa! there’s a good fellow! Whoa!” + +Bushy braced herself well, as Ned slackened into a steady run without +the irregular strides he made in his wild dash; then, turning and +taking aim, she held on to the back of the saddle with her left hand, +and when the wolves gained so that they were in range of her revolver +she fired. + +I have told you before that Bushy was a good shot, and this time her +aim was not false; the leader of the pack fell, and the others went +tumbling over him. It caused a halt, as Bushy had thought it would. The +greedy animals, imagining that something, perhaps Bushy herself, had +tumbled off for their hungry mouths to devour, made a decided halt. +Bushy fired again and killed a second, which Tom afterward told her was +a very foolish thing to do. She might need her ammunition, he said, and +it was only a waste to kill two at one halt, when there was no possible +hope of ever killing them all. + +Ned needed but one word of encouragement to stretch his legs again to +their utmost. But soon came another danger in the form of a broken +bridge ahead of them. You remember Mr. Sukolt mentioned the bridge over +the ravine. It was not drifted over, as he feared it would be, but +gone; and Ned was going at a madder speed then ever and the wolves were +barking louder and were quite close. + +Bushy saw that of the two evils she must select the lesser, and that +was to try to make Ned jump the fissure. There was no time to check Ned +if she wanted to, and if she could have done it it would be to throw +the two in the teeth of the starving animals already at their heels. It +seemed death, try either way, but she screamed: “Oh, Ned, Ned, Ned, +jump, jump for Padre’s sake, jump!” She gave him one quick stroke with +her bare hand--she had lost her mittens--and Ned at the word “jump” +pricked up his ears and looked about, for he knew what that meant. He +had jumped many a wide place for Bushy before, but nothing like this. +He saw the space and gave a wild long leap that landed him on the other +side, but on the very edge, and there he balanced for a minute, as if +he were going to the bottom after all. + +I don’t know how it happened, but Bushy swung off and pulled hard on +the bridle and some way helped Ned keep his footing, and they were +saved. I don’t suppose it could ever be done again, and I am sure Bushy +would never attempt it. The new leader of the band of wolves went +headlong into the opening and down to the very bottom, where he was +dashed to pieces. The others stopped on the edge and howled. Bushy, +with half-frozen hands, reached the blacksmith’s, and, leaving Ned +there--for he was badly sprained--she took a new horse and, joined by +Shanks, went the long way back to Great Pine Mine. + +Bushy’s mad run had made the time much shorter than it would have been +otherwise, so Shanks was with Mr. Sukolt in time to prevent any very +bad results from the delay in setting the foot. + +The miners to this day tell about Bushy’s ride, and say General +Putnam’s break-neck plunge down the rocks with the British after him +was nothing compared to Bushy’s leap with the pack of howling wolves at +her heels. + +[Illustration: “OH, NED, NED, NED, JUMP, JUMP FOR PADRE’S SAKE, JUMP!”] + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + + +“I know what I will do, I will make biscuits for supper--biscuits like +Tom makes,” said Bushy one morning as she gazed at a sack of flour that +had cost Mr. Sukolt just one dollar a pound. + +It was a rare thing to have flour in the camp. Everything had to be +brought so far in wagons that by the time freight reached these little +out-of-the-way stations, flour cost more than many of the miners could +pay. This sack had arrived after all the men had left for the mine. + +“I’ll surprise them,” thought Bushy, and she clapped her hands in +delight. She ran out to see how the shadows stood, and concluded that +there was just time to make an ovenful of biscuits if she hurried. Mr. +Sukolt had a watch, but he took that with him, and Bushy could only +guess at the time by the shadows. She had taken a stick, driven it into +the ground and marked the place where the shadow fell at noon, had made +another mark for three o’clock, and a third to indicate the hour to get +supper for the men. Generally Tom got the meals, but Bushy felt she +was old enough to run the house. + +“I’ll take the new tin pan and mix the bread in that,” murmured Bushy +as she flew about, happy in planning this great treat for the men. +“Now for the sack!” She took a case-knife and sawed away for some time +before she could cut the cords and dip down into the beautiful soft +white flour. + +“Oh, how lovely!” she cried, sinking both hands to the wrists. “I +wonder if this is what the ladies that the stories tell about put on +their faces? I’ll try it.” Out came her hands and almost a dollar’s +worth of the flour clung to her arms and fingers. It took but a minute +to spread the powdered stuff all over her face, quite covering her +red cheeks and getting it into her hair, so that she looked like a +story-book ghost. + +“I suppose I ought to put some on my neck, too, or I won’t be all +alike. I don’t want to look like crazy Indians, spotted all over. Oh! +the dish-pan--the bright, new one!” she cried, and running to the table +turned the pan bottom up and gazed down in admiration upon what she saw +reflected there. + +“I guess I must put more on my neck and arms, and make it like it is +on my face.” She worked hard rubbing in the flour, until her spectral +appearance would have frightened the wits out of anybody coming +suddenly upon her in the dim light. Of course, Bushy could not see how +dreadfully white she was by looking at the imperfect reflection of the +dish-pan. She gave a sigh of satisfaction, whitened her arms way above +the elbows, and then proceeded to make the biscuits. + +“Let me see. I put in the flour first, and then the water, and then the +salt, and what else?” She could not remember, although she felt there +was another something. She stirred the water and added the flour until +it grew too stiff, and then with water it suddenly grew too thin, and +thus in balancing it up she found her pan was quite full of dough by +the time that she could knead it. + +“What a pity I made so much! I wonder why the water was always too much +for the flour, and when I put in the flour it was always too much for +the water. I suppose Tom manages better, for I never saw so much dough +in all my life.” + +But nothing could discourage Bushy. “I will treat all the men in the +camp. Padre won’t mind this once.” Thus thinking, and kneading, and +trying first one side of the table and then the other, rolling first +one-half of the dough and folding it into the other, then mixing it all +in and sprinkling it with dry flour to keep it from sticking to her +fingers, she got it so she could cut out beautiful hunks with the tin +cup that had no handle. It was lots of fun to put the cup over the +dough and then bear down with all her might and feel it cut through +with a fluff and a puff, ofttimes sending the dry flour into her eyes +and nose. + +[Illustration: SHE GAZED DOWN IN ADMIRATION UPON WHAT SHE SAW REFLECTED +THERE.] + +“My, what a lot of biscuits!” she cried, as dozens were placed side +by side in a row about the table. Bushy was all excitement. Her hands +grew very tired making each biscuit as round as she could, a great deal +as she would roll a snowball. When her arms grew weary she rolled the +balls on the rough table, not noticing that now and then the soft dough +picked up a pine splinter. + +What Bushy called the oven was an iron arrangement something like a +skillet, but larger and with a heavy iron cover. This she placed over a +great mass of red coals, and when it got hot took off the cover and put +in the first twelve biscuits. + +“I must have these extra fine,” she said, “so I’ll cover the lid with +coals as Tom does and have the biscuits lovely and brown.” + +Her delight was quite hilarious when she took off the lid later and +saw a dozen of the most beautiful looking biscuits that ever greeted +her eyes. For fear of injuring them she lifted out each one with the +dish towel and placed it in a deep pan to keep warm till the men should +come. Her joy found vent in an occasional war-whoop or a handspring +that threatened the overturning of the pan of biscuits every time; but +how could she keep still when her heart was so full of the good time +she had arranged for the men? + +The second pan of biscuits had been placed on the table, the coffee had +been made, some slices of deer meat had been broiled as daintily as the +best of cooks could have done it, and supper was quite ready when Mr. +Sukolt and Tom and Shanks turned the corner and entered on the scene. + +“Whew! how good this smells!” cried all three together. Mr. Sukolt +dumped into one corner of the tent a lot of specimens of gold-bearing +quartz. Tom threw down his tools and went out to wash his face, and +Shanks, seeing supper was quite ready, said he saw nothing for him to +do, so he would take off his heavy miner’s boots and put on moccasins +to be comfortable while he ate. + +“But where is Bushy?” said Mr. Sukolt, looking all about the tent. +“What is the matter with you, Bushy? Are you back there?” he asked, +shaking the blanket that made a partition between the dining-room and +Bushy’s sleeping apartment. + +“Nothing is the matter with me, Padre; but when I come out I want you +to treat me as I should be treated.” + +Mr. Sukolt did not catch what she said, for his anxiety was gone when +he heard her voice, and after washing his face and hands he joined the +other two men at the table and began to eat. + +“Ahem! ahem!” was the slight noise that made all three turn their faces +toward the blanket, and astonished men they were! With stately step +Bushy sallied forth from her dressing-room. It was the white face that +so startled the men. The dress, of course was queer, but those pallid +features made her eyes seem far back in her head, and as black as dead +coals, and her hair, standing straight on end, was filled with flour +and dough. Her dress represented, as near as Bushy could make it, the +dress in the picture in the weekly paper that the miner had given +her. The red flannel trailed behind her in five strips, which were +run through her belt and left to flow in graceful folds. Her buckskin +jacket had been discarded, and an old one that Tom had declared only +good enough for Indians she had cut down to represent the low silk +bodice of the woman in the picture. A red blanket was pinned about her +for the dress skirt, and a pistol belt, to which she had suspended a +cow-boy’s whip and a small chain to which she had attached an Indian +beaded bag and an arrow or two, represented the Egyptian girdle worn by +the same lady. Two strands of Indian beads passed as bracelets about +her floury arms. + +“Great Scott!” exclaimed Tom, “are you the daughter of the man in the +moon? You don’t seem to like our country--you look scared.” + +Bushy had forgotten all about her white face, and, not knowing just how +funny she looked, was inclined to be offended, when Tom burst out in +roars of laughter. + +“My days in heaven, Bushy!” cried Shanks stepping forward, “why, +you”---- + +“I pray you to be seated, gentlemen. It behooves me to proclaim that +you are most welcome,” said Bushy, giving what she thought was a +queenly bow, and motioning for them to proceed with their dinner. Then, +in her natural voice, she added: “I don’t see why you sat down and +spoiled the whole thing before I could get in.” + +“Boys, you are both as stupid as Rover,” cried Mr. Sukolt, rising and +with great courtesy escorting the little lady to her place at the +table. “We have here the Queen of the Mountains, and we are her guests. +If you don’t know your place, boys, you will have to get out, that’s +all!” + +“And then you would miss the biscuits, which would serve you right,” +remarked Bushy, taking her seat with great difficulty. + +“What! biscuits? Ah, now we understand.” A smile flitted over all the +faces, and the paleness of Bushy was explained. “The flour has come +and we are to be entertained by the Queen of the Mountains in regal +fashion! Ha, ha, I’ll take some, if you please,” said Tom, rubbing his +hands in glee. “Biscuits, just think of it! biscuits for supper!” + +“I think you should say dinner, Tom,” said Bushy in her fine-lady +voice. “You--ah--you--ah, have never been in the queen’s palace before, +have you, Tom. Poor fellow, you don’t know what good things are!” + +Tom took a biscuit. So did Shanks, and then Mr. Sukolt reached his hand +out for one. Bushy’s face beamed as well as it could through the thick +layer of flour. “I knew you boys would like a treat,” said she, “and I +have blistered my hands rolling the bread. It is awfully hard to do it, +isn’t it, Tom?” + +Tom’s face wore an odd expression which no one could then understand, +yet he answered: “Yes, it isn’t everybody who can make bread. Biscuits +especially are a scientific production. Bushy is to be congratulated.” + +Bushy was so excited over the rôle she was playing that she did not +touch the biscuits herself, but in a very lady-like manner waited on +table, poured the coffee, and used all the big words she could remember +that were in the unfinished story in the weekly story paper. + +“I trust your family is well, Mr. Shanks. Will you have roast chicken, +lamb, or deer meat?” + +“Deer meat, if you please,” said Shanks, timidly. “I always was rather +partial to game.” He emphasized the word game and winked at Tom. + +“What do you mean by that?” cried Bushy, her dignity all gone in a +minute when she saw some fun afloat. She leaned back and glanced +first at her father, who had eaten heartily of everything except the +biscuits. Tom had three in a row in front of his plate and not one +touched. Shanks reached over and was trying to load his revolver with +one. + +“I must say that this infinitely charms me. What concealest thou from +me, Padre? Thine eyes are as merry as those of my subjects. What is +passing in the thoughts of This and This?” she pointed disdainfully +first at Tom and then at Shanks. + +“Something is amiss, I fear, with the biscuits. Just order the servant +to put aside two for me to assay to-morrow,” answered Mr. Sukolt, +mischievously, in the high-toned voice of the hostess. + +“Ah, they were the apple of mine eye--they dazzled my senses with their +brown beauty as--as”---- + +“Don’t get stuck on a word now, Bushy, when you have done so well so +far,” cried Tom as he lifted a hammer and brought it down with the full +strength of his mighty arm upon a brown biscuit that he had placed on +the stone at the cabin door. + +“Tom, Tom,” she cried, “tell me something”---- + +“I’ll tell you, Bushy, that they are excellent coffee biscuits, and I +couldn’t have made better. See, I have filled my cup with two and the +third will follow.” And Tom, in the goodness of his heart, ate the +three biscuits without flinching. + +“You dear old man!” cried Bushy, rushing about the table in anything +but a queenly fashion, and fairly covering him with flour from her face +and arms, “you deserve to be knighted for this. I’ll proclaim you Sir +Tom for ever and ever. Amen!” + +Late in the night, after everybody had been in bed and asleep several +hours, Mr. Sukolt was startled by a soft hand on his face, and hearing +the words, “Say, Padre, I’ve been wondering and wondering what I left +out, and it has just come to me.” She leaned over, and when her mouth +touched his ear she whispered low, so Tom could not hear, “It was +baking powder; and I just want you to tell Tom and Shanks to-morrow +that I am not so stupid as I seem.” + +On the promise that her father would take her part next morning Bushy +went to her hammock again and slept soundly the rest of the night. +Her little heart would have been much more troubled, however, had she +realized that her first biscuit-making had cost her father something +like $10 for flour. + + + + +CHAPTER XV + + +“Don’t do it, Tom. I know you can’t do it,” said Bushy in a sharp, +excited voice. Indians had suddenly appeared near the cabin and the two +were alone inside. The moment was a critical one. + +She tried to pull him away from the door by catching his coat and +holding on with all her might, but he gently unclasped her fingers and +looking at her seriously said: “Now, Bushy, you must not show the white +feather just when your courage is needed most.” Bushy nodded her head +as much as to say she would be brave, yet she was so frightened she +could not talk. + +“You know where you hid from me that day we played hide and seek? Do +you remember how you frightened us all because we couldn’t find you? +Well you must get into that same place, and I will try to reach the +mine by the way of the ravine and bring back help. If I stay here and +fight alone we shall both be killed, and there is some hope of our +coming out all right if you do as I tell you.” + +Tom gave her a revolver and a box of ammunition, and put into her +pocket a piece of bread, then opening the back door of the shanty he +said: “There! Like a good, dear girl, crawl on your hands and knees +until you get to the rock, then squeeze into the crevice and pull +the tree-trunk over it as you did before. I will go to the front and +attract the attention of the Indians by opening the door, and pick off +any one of them who may try to come down the hill.” + +Bushy said: “Oh, Tom, I know you will never reach the mine.” Then +throwing herself flat on the ground she crawled through the tall weeds +and grass that grew between the shanty and the huge rock where she was +going to hide herself. + +One day when she had been playing on the mountain-side the ground had +given way and she had sunk down into a hole that was made by a big rock +that had split in two. Over the opening had grown a tree, and its roots +had spread quite over the hole, and no one would have ever discovered +that the rock was divided had not the tree been struck by lightning and +died. + +Bushy had spent one whole day in cleaning out what she afterward called +her cave, and on the day that Tom spoke of she had frightened all the +miners by hiding there just for fun. Into this hole she now crawled and +pulled the dead trunk over so that no one could see her without moving +the tree. + +Tom meant to try to crawl down into the ravine, then take to his heels +and run for the mine, where all the men were at work. + +There had been no Indian trouble for a long time, and nobody had +expected this one. It was a great surprise to Tom and Bushy to hear a +shot early in the morning, and on going to the door to get an arrow so +close that it went through Tom’s hat. + +Tom crawled down the little incline toward the ravine until he reached +a place where he had to come in full sight of the Indians because there +was no grass to hide him. Bushy watched him from her cave. Her heart +beat and her hand shook. + +“He will not get through, I know!” and her lips grew white with fear, +but her eyes were ever fixed on Tom, and her revolver was raised ready +to shoot. + +“He is half way through,” she said to herself. “Now he is almost over. +Oh, dear, oh, dear, why can’t he hurry? Why don’t some one come? What +will I do if he gets hurt?” There came a swish, swish in the air, and +an arrow buried itself in Tom’s side, making him fall over in a heap on +the ground. + +“Tom! Tom!” she screamed, and was trying to push away the tree when a +big Indian bounded into sight. On reaching Tom he poked him with his +foot, then turned him over, and grunted something that brought three +redmen to his side. + +“He is killed,” sobbed Bushy in her retreat, “and I can never see him +any more. He is dead, like Pete, and will never come back nights with +the Padre again. Poor Tom! Poor Tom!” she wailed, and it is a wonder +that the Indians did not hear her. + +One of the tallest, who had his head dressed in bright feathers and his +blanket trimmed with fringe, took up a sharp knife and began to scalp +Tom. Bushy did not cry any more. All her sorrow was forgotten in her +rage. She forgot there was danger in making her place of hiding known. +The Indians were in range of her revolver, and she knew that she could +kill them; this is the way she reasoned: + +“There are only four. I will try and kill them all before they find out +where I am. If any more come I will keep as still as a mouse and they +will think me some man who has got frightened and run away, for I know +they will not find this place.” She peeped through the roots of the old +tree and took aim. Just as the Indian lifted the hair, Bushy shot him, +and he fell on his face across Tom’s body. + +Bushy did not hesitate an instant, and before the others had even +looked up she killed the second; then the third fell, with a yell that +sent the fourth on a jump up the hill out of Bushy’s sight. + +“Now, that’s too bad,” thought Bushy. “He will bring a lot more and I +can’t kill them all.” Her face was very hard and drawn, and she looked +like a little old woman. She was very white but she did not tremble +any more; she only crouched back into the crevice and watched. Now she +reloaded and was prepared for more Indians. Bushy could reload quicker +than any of the men at the camp. + +Nobody came. Noontime passed and no one visited the shanty. “Somebody +will surely come to see why we do not take over lunch to the men,” +thought Bushy, “and he may get killed, too.” Her heart ached with +fright, and though it was a very warm day she shivered and shook with +the cold. The rock was like ice, and the old tree kept out even the +light. + +Ah, what was that! Some one talking. She peeped out and saw something +moving where she thought only a heap of dead men lay. A head was lifted +and Bushy took aim, but before she fired she screamed: “Tom, is that +you? Tom, answer if it is you, because if you don’t I am going to fire.” + +“Don’t shoot,” he said; then fell back on the ground and moaned. + +“Can I come out, Tom?” + +Only a moan was the reply. + +“I’ll go to him and pull that old Indian off him,” said Bushy, pushing +aside the tree, but jumping immediately back out of sight. Another +of the heap had moved. + +[Illustration: BUSHY SHOT HIM, AND HE FELL ON HIS FACE ACROSS TOM’S +BODY.] + +“Yes, it’s an Indian. His head is covered with feathers,” said Bushy. +“I’ll drop him, or he will finish Tom. Ugh! it makes me feel so queer +and things get so black and”---- + +She aimed at the Indian, who was crawling slowly toward Tom, as he lay +stretched out in the hot sun that had beaten on him for over three +hours. + +Her shot proved fatal, for with a yell the Indian gave a leap and fell +to one side of Tom, who seemed to come to himself a little. He rose up +again and tried to push the Indian’s body away. “Oh, boys, give me some +water! I am dying for water!” he cried, and fell back in a faint. + +Stealthily Bushy slipped out and into the shanty. With a small tin +bucket filled with water and carrying a towel she soon appeared again +and crawled through the grass, just as Tom had done, until she reached +him. Then she washed his face, pulled the Indian away from him, gave +him all he could drink, and, pouring water on the towel she bound it +about his poor scalped head and left him to hide again in the cave. He +did not know her, for once he said: “Give me water, boys; just water!” +Bushy waited another hour. Then she heard a breaking in the branches on +the other side of the shanty. + +Feeling that something must have happened, Mr. Sukolt and four of the +men had started from the mine at one o’clock to see why Tom and Bushy +had not appeared with the lunch. + +The Indian who had been wounded and had fallen near the house, on +seeing them come, leaped wildly around the shanty and leaned up against +the very rock that Bushy was hid in. She scarcely dared to breathe for +fear he would hear her. He had taken a position on the wrong side for +Bushy to see him through the hole from which she had fired all the +shots. In a second, however, she heard the whizzing of an arrow. She +did not know at whom it was aimed. It was replied to with four rifle +shots. Suddenly the Indian fell a dead weight on the log above her head. + +“Padre! Padre! I am all right!” she cried, thinking he must be near. “I +am in the rock.” + +It did not take long for four pairs of hands to throw the Indian down +the ravine and unearth Bushy and her revolver. + +“Where is Tom?” they asked. “Where is Tom?” + +“Over there,” was all she said, for her lips trembled so that she could +not talk. Bushy always did well till everything was over; then she got +“dizzy and shaky in her knees,” as she expressed it. + +“Poor fellow, you are ’most done up this time,” they exclaimed. But +Shanks, who was always the doctor, said he would live, and all because +Bushy had had the courage to shoot at the right time, and bathe his +head and give him the water. He was sick a long time. After his head +got well he wore a close-fitting cap, because no hair, of course, +grew to cover it up. Shanks said the Indian had been very skilful in +the scalping, because he had not cut a hair’s breadth deeper than was +necessary to get the crown that the Indians like to hang on the belt. + +“I did mind you, Tom,” said Bushy one day, when he was pulling his cap +down to cover his bald head. “But if you had minded me, Tom, we could +have killed them from the shanty, ’cause there were only four, after +all.” + +“Bushy,” said her father, “Tom lost his scalp in trying to save you, +and”---- + +“There, don’t,” pleaded Tom, taking Bushy in his arms as she burst +into tears. “I wonder if any other man can say he wears his scalp in +his trunk as I do.” He nodded toward his clothes-box, where he had +carefully put away the scalp as it had been rescued from the hands of +the dead Indian. + +Bushy dried her eyes and joined the laugh on Tom, who worshipped +the ground little Bushy walked on. And his love was not lessened by +noticing that her tears always overflowed if any one mentioned how he +lost his scalp for her. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + + +“I’ll give you the finest set of gold jewelry I can find if you beat +me killing Rocky Mountain sheep,” said Tom to Bushy one day the +following summer, when she was boasting that she had killed almost as +many as he, and would have beaten him long ago if she had had the same +opportunities. + +“Oh, it’s safe enough to say that,” exclaimed Bushy; “for where can you +find jewelry out here? How many have you killed in your life, Tom?” + +“Ten, counting the little one that I brought down last week.” + +“Why, I’ve killed just that many, too,” cried Bushy, clapping her +hands. “I’m even with you. I’ll wager I kill the next one. Let me see, +I’ll give you”---- + +“I’ll bet you that set of jewelry if I ever live to go East again,” +interrupted Tom, taking hold of Bushy’s hands and spinning her about +like a top. “I’ll bet you the whole set of pretty things--say a +necklace like the lady in the picture wears, earrings and brooch, and, +yes, and a pendant to show off your neck when in full dress as you +were when you played Queen of the Mountains. I’ll bet you all that +against”---- + +“Make it something that I shall have to buy when I go to the big city, +too, Tom,” exclaimed Bushy, stopping long enough in her whirling to +throw her arms about him and peep up coyly into his face. “Let it be +a beautiful wig of curly black hair, with just a tiny bit of gray in +it like your dear old head used to wear.” There was a suspicion of a +tremble in her voice and the eyes grew dangerously moist, threatening a +shower of tears if she kept long on the subject. + +“All right,” cried Tom, and he called out to Shanks and Mr. Sukolt that +they must be witnesses to the bet. + +“You had better begin to save the gold-dust to-day,” remarked Shanks to +Bushy as he cleaned away at his rifle. “Tom said only yesterday that he +knew where there were mountain sheep, and he will slip out and bring +one in before you even think of cleaning your gun. There is nothing so +shy as the mountain sheep or big-horn, and it’s just luck on your part, +Bushy, that you killed so many. Tom knows their tricks. I’ll bet you a +year’s schooling in any place you like that Tom’ll come out ahead.” + +Bushy called the big-horn and mountain goats all sheep. They are almost +alike, have recurved horns, sheep-like noses, with a short furry under +coat and the upper coat long and shaggy. They are the most difficult to +get of all the animals in North America. The herds were even at that +time few, and they lived high up in the mountains, taking refuge where +often Rover could not follow. + +“Since we need meat, suppose you and Bushy try to-day for the goat,” +said Mr. Sukolt, just before shouldering his tools for a trip to the +mine. “Take Rover along with you and bring in anything you can find.” +So it was arranged. Tom and Bushy were soon climbing the peaks and +looking down hundreds of feet into the chasms. They went through +caverns and crossed ravines; they made bridges of tree-trunks and +climbed over rocks that were so steep that they could not keep from +falling except by taking off their shoes and clinging to the surface in +their stocking feet. Finally they reached a place high in the cliffs +where Tom said a herd of goats lived. Just below was a deep gorge, +through which a torrent of water madly plunged, at last spreading out +into a calm and glistening stream in the valley below. + +“There they are,” cried Bushy, suddenly, but Tom was looking down the +deep ravine and did not hear. Bushy’s eyes danced, for she thought she +could climb behind one of the bowlders and while Tom was searching +below, perhaps head off the herd and get a good shot. When the sheep +bounded down the mountain-side, she fairly hugged herself with delight +that Tom was going directly away from the herd. “They are not more than +fifty feet from me,” cried Bushy to herself. Softly, softly she crawled +forward. Oh, how steep it was! She must scale one of those smooth red +rocks. By going around it she would surely miss getting a shot, but if +she could only climb to the top of it and surprise them, her bet would +be won. + +Up, up she went, with her eyes watching both sides, and her rifle in +hand ready to fire on short notice. When almost at the top, she grew +careless and slipped. Ah, that was dangerous! “Oh, Tom, I am falling,” +she cried, but Tom was out of hearing, and down she rolled over and +over, bumpity bump to the very bottom, where a scraggly tree which had +worked its way through a crack in the rock caught her, and with its dry +branches held her fast. + +“Well, I’m much obliged to you, Mr. Tree,” said Bushy, as she scrambled +to her feet and looked down the precipice where she would surely have +fallen several hundred feet had not her buckskin blouse been clutched +by the queer-looking pine-branch. + +She was a little scratched but not badly hurt. She took off her +stockings, as she should have done in the first place, and began the +ascent again. She found the rifle half way up, where she had dropped +it when trying to get a hold on the rock to check her fall. Bushy +succeeded in reaching a small pine-tree near the top, and there, +stretched at full length, she clung to its trunk, drew herself to the +very edge and looked over. + +The herd was within rifle range, and Bushy grew so excited that she +almost had a second tumble. She fired before she was really in a steady +position. The rifle bar struck against the edge of the rock and the +bullet was sent way to the left of where she had intended it should go. +She frightened the sheep, lost her hold, and went sliding way to the +bottom of the steep rock again. It was very easy to slide down safely +when the sliding was not unexpected, for she spread her arms out and +slipped slowly to a point where she could get a good foothold, then +with rifle in her right hand she crawled along the very edge of the +precipice, hoping to intercept some of the sheep as they would bound +by. These sheep are very queer animals. They have such great horns +and the head is so well protected with thick wool, too, that they can +jump from place to place and fall on their horns, folding their front +feet up close to their body, quite hiding and protecting them in the +thick woolly coat they wear. Bushy knew they could easily descend, even +though she could not. + +She passed the steep place and reached a spot where the mountain +sloped more gently. “Ah, there is where they will go by,” she said, +and planting her feet against the root of a tree that looked as if it +had spent the greater part of its life trying to keep from sliding +down hill, she reloaded, raised her rifle to her shoulder and waited. +A minute later a shout from Tom and wild barking from Rover as they +appeared on the grade one hundred feet below, sent the sheep dashing +about in a violent flurry, and, as Bushy had anticipated, they crossed +her path not fifty feet away. They were wild with fright, and seemed to +fairly fly down the precipice, falling with a thump and a bump from one +steep place to another. She waited until one beautiful specimen leaped +from the rock above her as if to land on a kind of shelf below. + +“Those are the horns for me,” she said, and fired when the sheep was +in mid-air. The bullet went straight, and the poor fellow fell not far +from where Tom and Rover stood watching below. The fall sent his body +bouncing down, until Tom and Bushy felt their hearts sink with fear +that it would land in some of the gloomy dark gorges where they could +never get it. + +“You have won,” cried Tom, and he took off his cap and waved it and +hallooed with joy. He seemed to rejoice that he had lost, though he +really and truly meant to win if he could. + +“Not yet,” answered Bushy from her high position on the great red-rock +slide. “The Padre said we must have a steak, and Shanks asked for the +horns.” + +“Come down,” yelled Tom; “we will try and find him.” + +By sliding and jumping and rolling, Bushy finally reached Tom and +Rover, and then, after she had put on her stockings and moccasins, +slowly and carefully they descended. + +When they were about to give up the hunt they came plump upon the +sheep’s soft body all in a heap where the horns had checked it by +catching on to some low brush. + +Tom laughed and so did Bushy. They were as happy as two little children +over her success. By the aid of the lariat the sheep was lowered down +the steepest places, and at other times they bound it on to two sticks +and dragged it over the rough rocks without tearing the skin the least +bit. It took them four hours to reach the foot of the mountains and get +into the path that led directly without obstruction into the camp. + +“Now, Tom, carry him,” said Bushy, “and I will take the firearms and +ropes.” So Tom, with Bushy’s help, got the body thrown across his +shoulders, and grasping the fore feet in one hand and the hind feet in +the other he bravely got over the quarter of a mile. He threw the +sheep down before Mr. Sukolt and Shanks with the exclamation, “You are +in for it, boys. Bushy has won the day. She goes to school, Shanks, at +your expense for a year.” + +[Illustration: “THOSE ARE THE HORNS FOR ME,” SHE SAID, AND FIRED WHEN +THE SHEEP WAS IN MID-AIR.] + +Mr. Sukolt cried, “Bravo for the Queen of the Mountains! Tom, you must +be a ninny to have let her beat you.” + +“I am,” he said, “my back is almost broken and my head feels balder +than ever. No wig, no glory, and out of pocket a lot of gold-dust for +jewelry.” His pretended disappointment set them all laughing, and the +rest of the evening was spent in preparing the skin for mounting, +eating delicious steak at supper, and listening to Bushy’s account +of how she allowed Tom to go directly away from the sheep while she +advanced toward them. Tom didn’t mind a joke at his own expense and +laughed as heartily as the rest over his discomfiture. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + + +“The supply-wagons are ten days late,” said Mr. Sukolt, anxiously; “and +I am beginning to grow uneasy, for we are getting out of everything to +eat, as well as powder and fuse for the mine.” + +Mr. Sukolt, Shanks, and Tom were talking the matter over one night +after they had returned from the mine, and had half concluded that if +the wagons did not make their appearance by the next evening somebody +ought to go down to the fort for news of them. + +“It might be,” said Shanks, “that the Indians have overtaken the +freight teams, killed the teamsters and carried off the mules and +supplies.” + +“Wal, there ain’t no use waitin’; a feller can’t work without he’s +got grub that’ll stick to his ribs,” spoke up Tom. Shanks suggested, +however, that they hang on until the last of the week and then take a +load of ore with them to the valley. It was then Monday evening. + +“I guess you are right, Tom,” Shanks laughingly admitted. “I feel +myself as if I’d forgotten how potatoes taste, and if you don’t go +soon, I’ll forget how they look.” + +“I think you had better go,” said Mr. Sukolt, turning to Shanks, +“because, should there be need of a doctor’s service, you know what to +do.” + +“Oh, please hurry and go,” chimed in Bushy, who was helping her father +clean and polish his old musket and listening to what was said with the +interest she always paid to subjects pertaining to the welfare of the +camp. “I’m so tired, too, eating bear and johnny-cake all the time. I +wish we had some flour so Tom could give us some more of those biscuits +that are so good with molasses.” + +The men all laughed as they gazed on Bushy’s eager face, and her father +declared that Shanks should go in the morning if she was as hungry as +she looked at that moment. + +“Oh, no, Padre, I didn’t mean to be so selfish as that sounded,” she +cried, as she kissed his bronze cheek and gave him a bearish hug. “I +can eat what the rest eat; but I was so afraid that you were going +to wait till the last of the week, and there is only the tiniest bit +of molasses in the keg, and you men folks won’t eat johnny-cake or +flapjacks without it.” + +The next day wore slowly away. The hours seemed very long indeed to +Bushy, who was longing for the good things in the wagons that were +expected. Mr. Sukolt went out a dozen times to a high point on the +mountain-side that overlooked the winding road. He swept the landscape +far and near with a powerful field-glass, but he could see no signs +of the freight wagons. So Shanks started for the fort early the next +morning. It would take him four days to make the trip and perhaps +longer, for it was agreed that if he did not meet the wagons he was to +get a few supplies from the fort. In that case he would have to walk +and pack the things on his pony. + +Work was slack at the mine, for they were entirely out of blasting +powder by this time, so when Bushy suddenly broke into her game of +“cat’s cradle” with Tom, and cried: “Padre, Padre, let’s go berrying!” +her father and Tom gladly assented. Buckets were soon ready, and Ned +was saddled so that Bushy could ride. It was four miles up the gulch +to where the berries grew. They were wild raspberries of a beautiful +luscious red, which no tame raspberry can equal in flavor. They grow +on the steepest mountains, choosing to push their hardy roots under +great rocks and nestling close to fallen timbers, as if trying to hide +themselves altogether. + +The prickly, dwarfed bushes were bending almost to the ground beneath +their load of fruit. Bushy could scarcely wait to tie Ned, she was so +eager to be picking. + +“Now, Bushy, you stay here by Ned and pick in this patch, and Tom and +I will go farther up,” said Mr. Sukolt, as he handed her two small tin +pails. + +“All right,” said Bushy; “I’ll race both of you, and let’s see who gets +a pailful first.” + +She began very well and picked hard for five minutes, but then forgot +all about the race, and a great many more berries found their way into +her pretty mouth than into the pail. She picked on for perhaps an hour, +but even then one pail was still empty, and the other only half full. +She had forgotten all about her father and Tom, she was so interested +in crushing the largest and plumpest berries between her lips, when all +at once she was startled by a great snort from Ned. + +Springing to her feet she looked wildly around. Ned was pulling at his +halter, rearing and plunging, snorting and trembling. His eyes seemed +to be starting from their sockets. Bushy’s heart was beating fast, and +something seemed to be choking her. In a soothing tone she called: +“Whoa, Ned! whoa, old boy! nothing is going to hurt you.” + +She had just started toward him when suddenly her heart stood still +and she stopped, for over the top of a bowlder she saw two gleaming +eyes fastened upon her. For a second they disappeared, but were soon +followed by a huge dark-brown bear. He came shambling toward her, his +wicked white teeth gleaming in his open jaws. He was grunting with +satisfaction, like a pig expecting a good dinner. + +Bushy stood as if she had been turned to stone; her face was as white +as the snow that covered the tops of the tall mountain peaks. All this +time poor Ned, who was tied not more than a dozen yards away, had been +trembling in every muscle. It seemed as if he appreciated Bushy’s +danger, and he stretched his long neck as far as he could in her +direction and opened his mouth wide as if he wanted to snatch her from +the path of the dreaded animal. At last he could bear his suffering no +longer, and his agony found vent in a peculiar cry which sounded much +like a human shriek. + +This drew the bear’s attention away from Bushy. He uttered an angry +growl and raised himself upon his haunches, the hair about his head +and neck standing erect. He looked steadily at Ned a few seconds. His +angry eyes glowed like coals and his teeth snapped together after every +growl. It seemed to Bushy that in the twinkling of an eye the bear had +covered the distance between him and Ned, but he had not been quicker +than Bushy herself. + +The little girl, who had been unable to move in her own defence, was +all courage when she saw her poor horse in danger. Quickly reaching for +the revolver which hung by her side, she fired rapidly three shots at +the bear. One of the bullets evidently took effect and wounded him. +This only served to enrage the bear still more. Ned gave a wild leap +and broke his halter, but it was too late. The bear had reached him, +and there ensued a sight that Bushy will never forget to her dying day. +The savage growls of the bear, poor Ned’s pitiful neighs and cries of +agony as the cruel claws tore through his flesh--ah, she hears them yet! + +Bushy ran up quite close to the struggling animals, never thinking of +the danger to herself, and kept on firing at the bear. Mr. Sukolt came +tearing down the mountain-side, for he had heard the reports of the +revolver, and reached the scene just as the bear fell from Ned’s back, +mortally wounded. + +“Keep away, keep away, Bushy! Don’t go near him; he may tear you to +pieces even if he is dying,” screamed her father, as he came in sight +and saw her danger. + +“Hurry!” shouted Bushy. “I’m afraid Ned is dreadfully hurt.” + +Tom came bounding over the rocks and fallen timbers, spilling berries +at every jump. Mr. Sukolt fired a shot at the bear, but this was +useless, as Bruin was already quite dead. Poor Ned, it was all over +with him. He turned his head feebly toward Bushy as she knelt by him, +and in his intelligent eyes there was a look that was pitiful to see. + +“Oh, Ned! Oh, poor dear, dear Ned!” cried Bushy, the tears streaming +down her face. “Padre! Tom! can’t you do something for him? See, he is +all torn and bleeding. Ned, old fellow, Bushy loves you so! Bushy was +wrong to tie you so you couldn’t get away. Ned, Ned, Ned! Don’t die, +Ned!” + +She held his head in her lap and kissed his big, sorrowful eyes. + +“Padre, can’t you do something?” she cried again. + +Mr. Sukolt and Tom both sadly shook their heads. Bushy threw her arms +about the neck of the dying horse and wept bitterly. Then she tried to +lift his head, talked lovingly to him, coaxed him, and kissed him, but +Ned made no sign that he heard his little mistress’s voice, for he was +dead--poor, dear Ned was dead! + +[Illustration: SHE HELD HIS HEAD IN HER LAP AND KISSED HIS BIG, +SORROWFUL EYES.] + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + + +It was not very long before another pony was brought to the little girl. + +“Don’t believe you will do at all,” said Bushy, “but I’ll try you.” +Jip, for that was the new horse’s name, turned his head and looked +appealingly at the child who thought he was not good enough for her. + +“I don’t mean that you are not a fine pony,” continued Bushy, patting +him lovingly on the nose, and then turning to continue braiding his +mane, “but you will never be bright like poor Ned. You can’t imagine +the wonderful things that Ned took me through. Why, there was the trip +up Stone Gulch, when poor Spott was killed by that Indian who thought +he was going to get Padre’s scalp, sure; then at Cross Roads he helped +me save the soldier’s life by standing so firm when I lariated him. +But you are a stupid little Indian pony and don’t know anything about +lariating. Oh! I know you won’t ever do. You are stupid and haven’t +heard one word I have said.” She grabbed him by the head and shook him +with all her might. + +Bushy had a big comb that one of the miners had made out of a piece of +pine shingle, and with it she was combing out the long, silky mane that +almost swept the ground. Tom said he had never seen so long a mane on +any of the Western ponies. + +“Oh, listen to me, Jip; you are so impolite! Padre always punishes me +when I don’t look at him if he talks. I tell you that Ned was much +smarter than you, because just think how he took me through the snow +to the very edge of the shanty when it was under the snow-slide! You +couldn’t do that. Now, could you, Jip?” + +Bushy threw her arms about the Indian pony’s neck again and putting +her lips close to his ear, whispered: “He carried me safe to the +blacksmith’s when the wolves were after me. Do you think you could do +that, Jip?” + +Jip gazed wonderingly in Bushy’s face and neighed as much as to say he +could. + +“Why, you dear old fellow, you do understand me after all, and I +guess you are half as good as Ned! But would you save me from the +big mountain bear? Ned did. He snorted and screamed so that the bear +attacked him instead of me. If Ned had not been the best and loveliest +horse in the world I would have been scratched to death. Ugh! + +“Oh, Jip, dear, do stand still and don’t look at me all the time; +it crooks your neck so that I can’t see if the braids are all made. +What a funny pony you are! Sometimes you won’t look at all, then you +are licking my hand all the time. I bet you want sugar. We are out of +sugar. I put the last bit in Padre’s coffee this morning, and we are +not going to send for any more, because we are going away. Oh, Jip, I +must tell you all about it.” + +With one spring she landed on Jip’s back, and then stretching herself +at full length she clutched his mane and said: “Do you know how you +came to belong to me, Jip? It’s a long, long story, but I tell it to +myself every day. I loved Ned next to Padre, and after the wicked bear +had killed him, I cried until Tom carried me home. I can’t bear to +think of anything turning over on its side and shutting its eyes that +way. Oh, Jip, dear, will you do that, too, just when I get to loving +you so hard?” + +Bushy cried softly to herself and Jip grew uneasy. “Never mind, Jip; +I am coming to the nice part soon. When we got home that night after +the berrying, Shanks and the boys and the wagons were all there, and +you were tied to the feed-box at the back of the train-master’s wagon. +You broke your halter and came right up to me. You thought I was your +little mistress--your poor little mistress that was killed. Do you +think I will do, Jip? Maybe you don’t like me half as well as you did +the little Indian girl that the wagon-master said was dead and hanging +to the funny kind of a saddle you had on your back. Do you think you +can like me a wee, tiny bit, Jip?” + +Bushy anxiously reached out her hand and twisted Jip’s head about so +she could look into his large, intelligent eyes. + +“The wagon-master’s name was Bill, and he said that you were wandering +over the valley at the foot of the mountain range with this dead girl +dangling across your back. When he tried to lariat you you were naughty +and ran away. The morning after they saw you first, Bill woke up early +and went out to see what was disturbing the train horses, and there you +were, eating out of one of the feed-boxes, just as if you were starved +to death. Bill slipped up behind you and threw the bridle over your +head, and it was no good to try and get away then. + +“The little Indian girl was a very pretty little girl, so Bill said, +and you must have loved her very much, Jip, ’cause Bill said you pawed +the ground and cried and cried when they took her off your back. You +almost killed one of the train boys, but that was because you did not +want them to take her away, I guess. They buried your princess by the +roadside and tied you to Bill’s wagon. He said you made friends with no +one until you saw me. You broke the strap and bounded up to me just as +if you thought I was the Indian Princess--poor Jip! You had lost your +little girl and I had lost Ned.” + +Again Bushy gave way to soft crying, and Jip grew unhappy and whinnied +and pawed the soft dirt beneath his feet. + +“Bill told me he guessed the little Indian girl belonged to a tribe +that passed up north on the west side of the range, and he heard some +miners over there say they had caught them driving off their stock, so +they sent out ten men to get back the horses. Ever so many Indians were +shot before they would run away and leave the stock, and he thinks that +is the way the little girl got killed. She had tied herself on with a +rawhide whip and some strips made of her buckskin skirt. Bill says, +that shows she was not killed outright, but lived long enough to fasten +herself on your back. Poor little girl! Maybe she thought you would +take her back to her father. Bill thinks you did not know where to go +because the tribe was moving north. + +“And now you are mine, all mine, Jip,” said Bushy, brightening into +her old self again. “As soon as Bill heard that Ned was up in the +mountains, never to come down any more, why, he just put the rope that +was about your neck into my hands and said: ‘There, Bushy, I knew Jip +was meant for some special thing. He was sent to us in such an odd way. +He is yours, Bushy, with my compliments.’ Ha! ha! that is the way he +did it, Jip. Do listen! You are growing stupid and are not taking in +half I say.” + +Slipping off his back she pounded him in play on his head and then +kissed his eyes and patted his nose. + +“I am going to ride you all the way to the new home. Padre is going and +I am going and so is Tom and so is Shanks. We are going because Padre +has sold the mine to a rich man who came with the train of freight +wagons, and we are going back--back--oh, I don’t know where it is we +are going, but Padre knows. Then he will ’tend to some mining business +and maybe we will go into Mexico, where Ned was born, and maybe I’ll +get some books and some clothes like the little girls Tom tells about, +but, Jip”---- + +“Bushy!” called a voice from the shanty, “where are you, and what are +you thinking about? It is way past the time to take the lunch to the +miners!” + +“Gracious! It is all Jip’s fault; he kept me talking so long,” replied +Bushy as she bounded into the shanty. “Say, Tom, I like Jip. We have +made up,” and snatching the pail of hot dinner she swung it on her +arm and jumping on Jip he made his first trip to the mine. Next day +they started away in covered wagons--two of them, with three old +saddle-horses, Bushy’s Jip, and old Rover trotting on behind. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + + +Imagine for yourself the covered wagon that was to be Bushy’s home for +several weeks. She called it “a little house on wheels.” + +“Just look at it, Tom,” she cried the morning they left Great Pine +Mine. “See, I have fixed the room up beautifully, quite like a true +house!” The conveyance had been packed full up to the top of the wagon +box; all the valuables were put in there. Over the top was laid a +smooth pine floor, with a step cut out in front for the driver to sit +on. + +A very thick cover was drawn over the wagon hoops that ran up from the +sides of the box, and, as Bushy said, made a complete little house. A +small stove was set up in the back, and the pipe ran out of a hole in +the cover above. This was fixed so that the pipe could be taken out and +the hole covered, if there came a severe storm. Mr. Sukolt had put up +four posts, one for each corner of the wagon, and these were so strong +that Tom hung up a hammock, made out of a good, warm blanket, for Bushy +to sleep in. + +Her father made his bed into a roll in the day-time and used it for +a seat, and at night he slept on the floor of the wagon. Shanks, who +was very handy with carpenter tools, made a hinged stand that would +shut down and lie against the end of the wagon in the day-time when not +wanted, but during the meals was raised and turned into a low table +for the four to sit about. All the provisions and dishes and cooking +utensils were carried in the provision boxes, fastened something like a +feed-box at the back of the wagon. + +The horses were tied to the end of the wagons, and trotted along all +ready to take the place of the mules should any of these get hurt or +die. + +“Jip would not be of much account to pull a wagon, would he?” said +Bushy, looking at his trim body and slender legs; but Tom had great +faith in Jip. + +“He is a true Indian pony, and I have an idea he is a prize. Suppose +you try to ride him by hanging on his side as the Indians do!” + +Bushy thought it a great scheme, so she and Tom ran races all day +long--that is, at every place where the road was good enough to let +them. Bushy got some very bad tumbles, and once her father was tempted +to forbid her playing circus, as she called it, but Tom had good reason +for wanting her to learn all the tricks he had seen the Indian children +do. + +“Now, Bushy, let Jip stand still, and try to swing yourself about +his neck on to his back without falling off.” Oh, what a time they +had! Bushy would fall, and try again and fall, and still keep at it. +Jip looked at her as if he thought her very clumsy, yet he knew his +business and did not move. She would get on his back and put her arms +about Jip’s neck and swing under, catching his stiff mane with her +right heel, and there holding until she had swung far enough under +his neck to throw the other foot over his back. As she would let go +with the right she was on the upward swing with the left. It took a +very sudden swing to keep from falling and landing bump on the ground +instead of regaining her seat, but she did it finally. + +That was the most difficult thing she ever tried to do, but she learned +to ride on the dead run with her whole body hanging from Jip’s side, so +that anybody on the opposite side could not see that there was a rider +on the horse. Bushy learned to be an admirable horseback rider, and +being naturally cool-headed in all circumstances, both Shanks and Tom +grew to think her quite as capable of taking care of herself as they +were of themselves. The Indian pony was not so high as Ned had been, +and it was an easy matter for Bushy to place her hands on his back and +leap over him. Then she would amuse herself by letting him run at the +top of his speed. Clinging to his mane she would leap to the ground +and back, again and again, as he dashed madly on. She taught him to +kneel for her, and if she would not climb on his back while he knelt, +he would get down lower still. Mr. Sukolt also would often spend the +greater part of the day with Bushy training Jip, who turned out to be +a most wonderful horse. It seemed as if he were almost human in his +intelligence. If they could make him do a thing once, he would repeat +it when he received the same signs. + +It took Mr. Sukolt a long time to teach him that he was to pick Bushy +up by her belt and carry her home. They began to teach this in a kind +of play, and he and Rover got to be fast friends. Rover could not carry +Bushy now, because she was too heavy. Mr. Sukolt would send Bushy out +somewhere to hide, and then her father would tell Jip and Rover to go +find her. At first the horse simply followed the dog, and, of course, +Rover found her every time; but Mr. Sukolt thought Jip ought to be able +to find her, too. + +“Now, Padre, don’t let Rover come,” said Bushy, “send Jip all alone.” + +“Now, Jip, find Bushy,” said Mr. Sukolt, and Jip started, but waited in +the road for Rover, and Rover would break bounds and dash after her. +Sometimes Jip would find her, and then there was great glee on the +part of the whole family. The next thing to teach him was to bring her +home. He was taught to kneel and neigh for her to climb on his back. If +she pretended she could not do it he would get down on his side, and +Bushy would crawl on, and cling to his mane while he got up and dashed +back to Mr. Sukolt. + +It was lots of fun for several weeks. Both Bushy and her father forgot +all about her lessons. Bushy thought it was all fun, but her father was +preparing for a time when he perhaps might not be at hand to help his +little daughter. + +All this was preliminary to the job of teaching the pony to pick Bushy +up by the belt and carry her home to her father, something as a cat +carries a rat. Oh, it took a long, long time to get that idea into +Jip’s head. He would kneel, then get down on his side if Bushy paid no +attention to him, then he would neigh and make a great fuss. Finally +Mr. Sukolt fastened her to Jip’s bits, and he and Tom would help carry +Bushy home to show Jip what was wanted. Bushy would keep still as if +she were dead. Little by little they would leave the weight on Jip, and +finally he carried her himself. Now the question was how to make him +pick her up. They slipped her belt over his lower jaw and let him carry +her that way, and at last he would nose around and find it himself. It +was a time of great rejoicing when he first did this. Bushy had to +wear mittens and strong moccasins, because he would sometimes drag her +along on the ground. She was now over thirteen years old, very small +for her age, but slender and agile like a cat. + +“Where are we going, Padre?” asked Bushy one morning, after they had +been some weeks on the way. + +“Down south on a prospecting tour. A freight-train of wagons will +start from Georgetown. We are not out of danger from the Indians until +we get within ten miles of that place. There will be more danger of +our running into Indians along here than anywhere else, because the +soldiers are all the time driving them back. The Indians go there for +their rations of food and clothing, and if they are not in the most +pleasant humor they may do us harm when we meet them. In case we do +get into trouble,” said her father, “you must try to get to Hold Up +Fort and give warning. That can’t be more than five miles from here, +straight ahead.” + +Noontime came, and as there were no signs of Indians about, Mr. Sukolt +very unwisely had the mules unhitched and lariated them in the middle +of a patch of fresh tender grass. Jip was with them, too, though he +still wore his blanket saddle, as Bushy had ridden him all the morning +and had left his back only to assist in getting the noon meal. + +“Merciful heavens, there are the Indians!” cried Shanks, in a +frightened whisper. Everybody looked up with a blanched face, for +coming down the mountain road, way off in the distance, could be +plainly seen about a dozen of the redskins, dashing pell-mell toward +the covered wagons. + +“They have been refused rations at the fort and have spied us from the +high road!” exclaimed Mr. Sukolt. “They mean to steal our freight and +drive off the mules and horses. We are four against ten or, perhaps, +twenty, there is no telling how many there are in ambush. Oh, if it +were not for Bushy!” + +“Can you three keep them at bay for half an hour?” cried Bushy, her +eyes almost starting out of her head in her excitement and fright. She +had followed her father out after the horses, and when assured he could +fight the Indians off for a while she threw herself flat on her face, +and, crawling on the ground, she reached Jip, who at the first signal, +knelt, then she caught his mane in one hand and wound her foot some way +in the rope that circled Jip’s body, and then let him bound up and away +at a keen jump toward the fort. The Indians saw him go, but supposed +he was a frightened pony or a runaway because they could see no one on +him. They did not shoot, but watched Mr. Sukolt driving in the mules +and horses, trying to get behind the two wagons that Tom and Shanks +had drawn up to form a kind of breastwork. The men threw the buffalo +robes, bedding, and as much of the freight as they had time to get out, +all about the wheels, making a safe place for them to crawl behind to +give a warm reception to the Indians as they came down. It was all done +in much shorter time than it takes to tell it. + +[Illustration: BUSHY CAUGHT JIP’S MANE IN ONE HAND AND WOUND HER FOOT +IN THE ROPE THAT CIRCLED HIS BODY.] + +“Where is Bushy?” exclaimed both Shanks and Tom, as they took up +their places behind the wheels and arranged their revolvers and extra +ammunition for use. + +“Gone to give warning, thank God!” said Mr. Sukolt. “She went to bring +help from the fort, and I sent her, hoping she would escape harm; but +there is little chance that she can bring reinforcements in time for +us; it looks pretty tough just now.” + +The Indians came on at a full run, yelling and brandishing their +tomahawks, but when they got within eighty yards of the white men the +three opened such a volley upon them that they held up and began to +circle about and close in. This circle did not take in Bushy. She was +already out of sight and, no doubt, riding with all her might toward +the fort. + +Each of the men picked off an Indian before five minutes had passed. +One mule was killed, and Tom drew him up to add to their breastwork. +An arrow pierced his hat and just scratched his skull-cap. This made +him livid with rage, because, you remember, Tom had lost his scalp +through one of the wicked redskins. He rose up, took good aim for the +leader of the gang, and fired. The Indian fell from his horse. On +perceiving this the others probably came to the conclusion that they +would have some difficulty in getting the freight, and so drew off and +gave the men a short rest. This was a fortunate thing, for Bushy would +have more time in which to make the trip, and the men would have a +chance to load and prepare for a new attack. It soon came. + +“They have been reinforced!” cried Shanks. “We are lost if they rush +upon us, for we are three against fifteen or twenty.” They made the +circle as before, and then, giving war-whoops that chilled the blood in +every vein, dashed up to the wagons. The three men picked out each an +Indian, and dropped him. The savages were too close now for much of a +plan to be carried out--it was a hand-to-hand encounter. + +A tomahawk was raised over Mr. Sukolt’s head, when a bullet from some +unknown source killed the holder of it. Tom had been stunned from a +blow on the side of his head, and lay helpless across the dead mule. +Shanks was close in the embrace of a dying redskin, and seemed doomed +to death from a blow of a tomahawk in the hand of an Indian back of +him. Mr. Sukolt struck the axe with the butt of his gun, and received +an arrow in his left arm from an Indian who had slipped behind the +wagon and had shot from under cover. + +“Thank God, Bushy is safe!” he murmured as he felt the cold knife in an +Indian’s hand seeking for his scalp line. + +Crack! crack! flash! bang! sounded the welcome reports from the +soldiers’ firearms. The Indian who was in the act of scalping Bushy’s +father fell across him dead. Mr. Sukolt went down with his weight, and +it was well he did, for an arrow came whizzing by which would have +ended his life without doubt. + +“We are here, Padre!” called out the voice of Bushy, who, in spite of +the warnings of the soldiers, rushed ahead and into the thickest of the +fight. + +It was Bushy’s quick action that had saved the lives of the campers, +but she could not claim that it was her shot that laid low the villain +who was trying to scalp her father. The few Indians that were not +killed fled like cowards when they saw the soldiers. Bushy had come +across the detachment out scouting, and that was how she reached the +camp so early, and just in time. + +Tom was only stunned, and, but for a lump on his head, was all right +in half an hour. Shanks was not hurt at all excepting a few black and +blue spots. Mr. Sukolt had his arm done up, and Bushy almost went into +hysterics after everything was over. + + + + +CHAPTER XX + + +“Hello, Rover, Rover! Where are you, Rover?” called Bushy, suddenly +stopping her crying and rushing about wildly for her dog. Nobody had +seen Rover. Several soldiers were helping Mr. Sukolt and the men get +the wagons into order to move toward the fort. Five soldiers had +followed the Indians some distance and chased them back behind the +hills. The others were keeping guard for fear they might pick them +off, one by one, by slipping back and getting within shooting distance +without their knowing it. + +Everybody stopped and called Rover. A low whine directed them to Tom’s +wagon, and there, underneath a pile of clothing, the poor dog was +found, trembling and frightened. + +“Dear Rover, I thought you were killed sure,” said Bushy, hugging him +and crying with delight. In her anxiety over the dog she forgot her +own troubles, and taking Rover by the collar dragged him out and up +into her wagon, where the two snuggled down on buffalo robes. The men +hitched up one of the horses in place of the dead mule and then they +all started for the fort, the soldiers dividing, some riding in front +and some behind. But the Indians watched from ambush the movements +of the soldiers, and formed a plan for the destruction of the whole +band. The redskins seemingly fled, but instead they made a circuit of +the mountain and got between Mr. Sukolt’s party and the fort. They +hid behind the trees that grew in the fork of a stream and there they +waited until the wagons came quite close. The soldiers were on the +lookout; nevertheless, they were much surprised when the war-whoop +suddenly sounded in front. + +The wagons were again turned into means of protection. Indians are +cowardly and not good riflemen, as a general thing, and when the +soldiers with their deadly aim picked off every red man that showed +himself, the others quieted down and no doubt wished they were safe out +of the fight. + +“Bushy, you and Rover crawl under the bedding and lie down flat,” cried +Mr. Sukolt. He piled about her the three hams and several great pieces +of bacon that had been brought along to be eaten on the trip. + +Bushy could not see out on the side where the Indians were. It was +growing dark and the fight being in a little grove of trees the red men +concluded to take advantage and crawl stealthily, tomahawk in hand, +upon the enemy. + +Bushy, from her elevated position in the wagon, was almost on a level +with the heads of the redskins, as they rose to flourish the tomahawk. + +“I’ll lie down flat,” said Bushy to herself, “and be ready to fire if +any Indian comes on my side of the wagon.” + +She had no more than settled well down into a comfortable position when +she saw the headdress of a redskin bobbing up and down in the tall +grass close to the wagon tongue. Without any ado whatever she fired and +laid him low. With a yell that was appalling, another Indian rose out +of the grass and made an attempt to drag away the dead man, but Bushy +fired again, and he, too, fell and rolled out of sight in the darkness. + +“Bravo!” cried the soldiers. + +“That’s two for me,” said Bushy, softly to herself. + +The soldiers continued fighting, determined on the destruction of the +few Indians that remained, when suddenly Bushy heard an anxious cry +for powder. “I am out of powder!” cried Tom. “So am I, almost,” yelled +Shanks from behind the nearest tree. “Here take my can,” called Mr. +Sukolt, as he crawled through the grass and divided with the boys. + +“I know where there is more,” thought Bushy, and scrambling from under +the hams and sides of bacon, she immediately proceeded to open the box +and fill her skirt with as much as she could carry. + +“I’ll slip along down and furnish the men with all they want,” said +Bushy. + +She crawled from under the wagon-cover and fell, with a soft thud, to +the ground below. + +“Here Tom; help yourself,” she said a minute later, as she nudged him +on the elbow. + +“Bless your heart, child! how did you get here? You must not run such +risk,” but before he had finished talking she was off to Shanks, and +after supplying him she started for her father who was hidden behind a +bowlder on the left, but he sharply ordered her to drop the powder on +the ground and climb again into the wagon. + +Just then a dusky cloud settled over the trees, throwing the grove for +a moment into complete darkness, and the captain of the soldiers called +out: + +“Everybody be on guard and draw near to the wagons. When all are in, +make a grand rush and try to get out of this wood.” + +Tom jumped to hitch the horses to the wagons, the soldiers kept +guard, shooting at every move in the grass outside of their circle, +nevertheless, two horses were killed and three soldiers wounded before +Tom succeeded in making everything ready. + +The three men were put tenderly into the freight wagon, as Tom called +the second vehicle. Shanks suddenly called to them to “lay low.” They +fell flat on the ground, and thus were saved from an arrow that came +whizzing through the darkness. + +“All aboard!” shouted Shanks, as he jumped to the wagon-seat, and +taking the reins, declared he was ready to start. + +“I killed that fellow,” said one of the soldiers, after shooting at a +face that had gleamed at him through the still darkness. “I think he is +the last of them.” + +“Are we ready?” called out the captain. “If so, to the fort!” + +Tom struck his horse a most cruel blow; the team bounded like mad down +the road, followed closely by Shanks and his load of wounded men. The +mounted soldiers dashed after them, each with loaded gun ready for the +slightest sign of an Indian. On they went, never stopping until out of +the woods and some distance into the valley. + +“Bushy!” called Mr. Sukolt, and a loud bark from Rover proved him still +under the pile of hams and bacon. + +“Mr. Sukolt!” then called the captain, “I need your help here, one of +my men has fainted.” Mr. Sukolt jumped out and helped the soldier into +Shanks’s wagon. Tom had received a gash on his face that was setting +him wild with pain. He drove madly on, dreading every minute that he, +too, would fall helpless. To make matters worse, Jip suddenly broke the +halter and ran back to the woods. + +“Only one quarter of a mile more,” cried the captain; “let the pony +go, no time to bother with him now,” and in a few minutes the wagons +were hauled up before the fort. Tom fell staggering into the arms of an +officer, which incident again distracted Mr. Sukolt’s attention from +his child, and it was some minutes before he turned, half frightened by +a sudden thought, and again called, “Bushy!” + +There was no answer. + +“Smothered under the hams, maybe,” said one of the soldiers, as he +hurried with Mr. Sukolt to tear away the coverings and throw the smoked +meat to the right and left. + +Rover gave one yelp of joy when he heard his master’s voice, and +bounded out, and down to the ground. + +“Bushy!” called her father, throwing down the last ham and then making +a hurried search through the bedding, and feeling of the quilts in the +hammock. “Bushy! My God, boys, she is not here; she is gone!” He +gave a gasp and fell into the outstretched arms of Shanks, who for two +minutes had given up the search and stood with face whiter than death, +dreading the time when Mr. Sukolt should realize that his daughter had +been left behind. + +[Illustration: “BUSHY! MY GOD, BOYS, SHE IS NOT HERE!”] + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + + +Bushy had poured the powder on the ground as her father had ordered her +to do, and was wishing that the stuff were not so dirty. + +“I have spoilt my skirt. It is all mud and powder, and I wish Padre +would not put his head out so often, he may get hurt.” Thus she went +on thinking to herself and crawling slowly through the grass to the +wagon’s side. + +It was a brave deed for Bushy to take the powder to the men, yet it did +not seem possible that she could get hurt going no farther than she +did, and when Mr. Sukolt ordered her to go back to the little fort made +of hams he dismissed all idea of danger from his mind. The wagon was +watched by soldiers, and Indians were picked off the minute they showed +themselves. Nevertheless, with all their watchfulness, a young savage +succeeded in getting through the grass and lay under the wagon waiting +for someone whom he could use as target for his arrows. To his surprise +the very first object that came in sight was Bushy crawling to him. + +The young Indian’s eyes snapped. He grasped his tomahawk and crouched +still nearer the ground, his eyes shining like balls of fire. + +Bushy saw the eyes and halted, still on her hands and knees. “It’s a +panther,” she thought, and she made a move for her revolver. + +The Indian was as much amused as astonished at finding a little girl in +the fight, and never once dreamed she knew how to shoot. There would +have been little danger for her had he not feared she would scream and +bring the whole force of soldiers down upon him. + +When he realized that she saw him, quick as lightning he raised his +tomahawk and struck her a blow on the head that stretched poor Bushy +flat at his side. + +“Scalp little squaw!” muttered the Indian, gleefully. Then he drew his +half blanket about her, sling fashion, and began to drag her slowly +back to the thick trees beyond. + +Unfortunately for Bushy and fortunately for the Indian it was then the +sky clouded over, and it grew so dark. It was at that moment that the +captain called for the soldiers to close in and prepare to rush from +the woods. The Indian made the best of the darkness, but it was his +dragging Bushy through the grass that had attracted Shanks and had made +him call to the men to “lay low.” The bouncing over the ground after +awhile brought Bushy to her senses enough to realize that she was in +the hands of an enemy. + +“I cannot see,” said Bushy to herself. “Poor Padre! what will he do +when he misses me? I wonder if I will lose my scalp like Tom, or will I +be roasted alive, like the poor trapper Padre tells about who used to +hunt with him.” + +Bushy finally got her revolver, and though the blood was so thick in +her eyes from the gash the tomahawk made on her head that she could not +see, she waited until she felt herself drawn close to the Indian, then +pointing the weapon toward where she knew he must be crouching, she +fired. + +Bushy heard nothing but a low groan in response to her shot. “I am +afraid to move,” she thought. “If he thinks I shot at him he will +surely kill me. Perhaps he is playing dead like I am. Oh, Padre, Padre! +if I dared scream!” Then the cramped position she was in renewed the +pain from the cut in her head and she must have fainted, because she +remembered no more until she felt the warm nose of some animal pushing +against her. Her heart stood still with fright. “Panther, or maybe a +bear! No, bears would not come so far down from the mountains, but a +panther might,” she reasoned, as she held her breath and shivered every +time the nose touched her. + +“Padre, I am here in the tall grass,” she tried to say, but the words +stuck in her parched throat. “I must have been here a long time,” she +thought, “or panthers would not be prowling about.” + +One eye was so clotted with blood that she could not open it. Again +the nose and hot breath frightened her. “I’ll shoot if I can find my +revolver,” but she could not get herself disentangled from the blanket +for fully a minute, and in that time, which seemed ages, she suffered +more than she had in her whole life before. + +“Padre!” again she screamed, and this time it was loud enough to be +understood by the animal that was nosing her about, and what do you +think was the reply? + +A soft neigh of delight from the Indian pony Jip! + +Bushy screamed with joy, and with renewed strength floundered in the +blanket until her head got out, and then followed her hands and arms, +which she flung crazily about trying to clasp them around the neck of +her faithful friend. + +“Jip, Jip! You dear old darling! you will take me to Padre? Down on +your knees, old fellow! help me, because the redskin has done something +to my head that makes me feel so queer; and I am all over blood, Jip, +so I can’t exactly tell whether I am Bushy or a dead bear.” + +Jip knelt and patiently waited for her to mount. Bushy staggered to her +feet, and all the world turned black and the stars came out, she said, +and shot all about in such strange fashion. + +“Keep still, Jip, old man. I don’t think I can stay on your back if +things cut up in this way. Jip, dear, where is the Padre? Did the +Indian catch him, too?” She then tried to climb on Jip’s back, turned, +and thus faced the Indian who had been carrying her off. The sight was +a great shock. He sat up stiff and straight and his eyes were staring +at her wide open in death. The horror of the picture came upon her with +such force that in her weak state of mind she became flighty--quite out +of her head. + +She lost her balance, tumbled off Jip, and rolled down a slight incline +away from the Indian, calling “Jip, come Jip! Let us play circus!” then +lost consciousness. + +Jip may have been extraordinarily intelligent, or may have thought this +only a repetition of the circus games that Bushy had so often played by +the day with him, but he did his part remarkably well. + +The Indians had all fled and carried with them their dead, with the +exception of this one who had tried to carry off Bushy. The only other +redskin who had known of his crawling under the wagon was the one that +fell dead from the last shot fired by the soldier. The other Indians +had taken the latter, and under cover of the darkness that had fallen +so suddenly upon them, they all had hastened north while the soldiers +and miners had hurried to the east. Thus Bushy and the dead Indian who +had held on to the blanket-swing in which she was bound were the only +beings left on the field of battle. + +When Jip could not rouse Bushy by his second nosing about, he must have +concluded that she wanted him to carry her as he had done in the play +days. I sometimes feel that Jip knew everything and fully realized the +condition that Bushy was in, but Mr. Sukolt, who was a particularly +wise and learned man, said afterward, that the horse had no thought +beyond that of pleasing his little mistress in performing the trick +that he had been taught. + +He evidently had much trouble getting her up the slight incline, down +which she had rolled, for there were left great gashes in the green +grass showing where his hoofs had dug and cut into the ground on both +sides of the spot where she had lain, and the sward was marked with +blood that had flowed from the fresh bleeding of her head after she had +fallen from the horse. + +The soldiers, on learning that the miner’s little daughter was missing, +immediately formed one band for searching the ground where they were +attacked last, and another for a continued journey until the escaped +red men should be killed, or Bushy rescued. There was no doubt in their +minds that the little girl had been carried off. + +Mr. Sukolt could scarcely sit on his horse, yet he was the first in the +band to strike out for the woods. Tom and Shanks carried lanterns to be +used in the search, though their hearts told them that there was little +hope of finding her alive. + +“It will kill the old man,” said Tom. “Just look at his face; it is +twenty years older already.” + +“Something coming this way,” cried the leader, turning his horse and +riding back to where Tom and Shanks brought up the rear. The three men +got down and listened, placing their ears to the ground. + +The captain ordered a halt. Mr. Sukolt so far had not uttered a word; +his heart seemed broken; he only looked wistfully at the soldiers, and +seemed to pray that the delay might not be a long one. + +“It is one horse walking so irregularly that I imagine it is wounded,” +said one of the soldiers. + +“Well, there’s no danger for us in one horse,” said the captain; +“forward!” + +They dashed around the bend, and soon, far in the darkness, they could +make out the form of a horse coming slowly toward them. He had stopped +the odd trot which the soldiers thought he must have been in when they +heard the sound of his hoofs. Rover was capering like mad about him +and the object he carried in his mouth. + +“Thank God!” burst from the lips of Mr. Sukolt, and with one wild leap +he left his horse and ran to Jip, for it was Jip, carrying Bushy by his +teeth. He had slipped her belt over his lower jaw and was holding his +head as high as he could, so she would not drag very much on the ground. + +“Is she alive?” asked the whole group of men at once. + +“I don’t know,” answered her father as he clasped her in his arms. “God +help me if she is not.” + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + + +Rover went almost wild over her recovery, even if she did look more +dead than alive, as they tenderly put her in Mr. Sukolt’s arms +and hastened back to the fort for medical aid. She soon recovered +consciousness. Though she was dizzy and faint from loss of blood and +fright, they saw, to their great relief, that their darling would be +all right in a few days. + +Her father sat by her bedside all night, keeping her little hand in his +and listening to the babbling words she spoke in her feverish sleep. + +The glaring eyes of the Indian and the hot breath of what she had +thought a panther seemed to be ever in her mind. It was not until the +following morning that he heard all the story about his little girl’s +escape. + +“I was so afraid I would have to part with my scalp, like Tom, and have +to wear a black cap, instead of my hair, for the rest of my life. Oh, I +am so glad I shot him before he could take it,” she concluded, with a +smile and a sigh, as she nestled closer to her father. + +[Illustration: ROVER WAS CAPERING LIKE MAD ABOUT HIM.] + +Mr. Sukolt took her in his arms, thinking how near he had come to +losing her, and what a lonely life his little girl was leading. + +They had been at Hold Up Fort three days when Mr. Sukolt called Bushy +to him and said: “You must not go far from the fort. It is unsafe now, +on account of more Indians moving northward.” + +“Oh, Padre, how could I stop here all day long while you are away +drawing your old maps?” replied Bushy, with the most woe-begone face. +“Jip and I will both die, sure as we live.” This funny remark sent Mr. +Sukolt on his way, laughing most heartily. + +For three days Bushy obeyed very faithfully, and did not lose sight +of the wagons. When she stepped out into the sunshine on the morning +of the fourth day, however, she felt as if she could not endure the +imprisonment any longer. The wound in her head did not trouble her very +much; it had been done up so carefully that now it seemed almost well. +Why should she stay in the fort all day? The singing birds were free, +the insects buzzing in the air were free, even the trees were free to +wave their branches as they liked, and she, the most active of all the +busy beings about, was told to sit down and keep still. She, who had +such swift feet, and a swifter pony when she got tired of walking--was +a prisoner. + +“Ah!” argued Bushy, as she walked out to the stall where Jip fretted +and pawed and snorted to get out, “this is very wrong, indeed. Padre +has forgotten all about his little girl, Jip,” she murmured. “Don’t +you wish we could go out as we used to? I should like to go after some +flowers. The soldier captain said such beauties grew at the foot of the +mountain, and I am sure that Padre would like some to press in his old +botany book. I don’t think he would mind it much if we went out there, +do you, Jip? You know that Padre just loves flowers. I think that we +can go; shall we Jip?” + +Jip neighed, stamped his feet, bowed his head, and showed such anxiety +to get out that it quite settled the question. So Bushy jumped on his +back, and tried to buckle her revolver into her belt, but in her hurry +broke the clasp. “Oh, well, never mind!” she said aloud. “I don’t need +a revolver to pick flowers, anyway,” and she thrust it into her blouse +waist and let it fall to the belt line, where it swung as if in a +pocket. + +They galloped through the long grass, scaring the birds and chasing +the rabbits before them, both hilarious with joy, at their recovered +freedom. + +“We have been in jail, Jip, haven’t we? And the sun seems brighter and +the grass fresher and greener than when the Indians played us the bad +tricks. And, oh, look, Jip, at the blue sky out there! It is beckoning +us to come on.” + +She gave the reins to Jip, and he fairly flew forward. Not a twinge of +remorse disturbed Bushy, for was she not out solely to gather specimens +for her father’s botany book? In the woods she dismounted, and, leading +Jip by the bridle, walked briskly over the velvet moss, and ran and +skipped from stone to stone, often making it difficult for Jip to +follow her. She adorned the pony with flowers and then made a crown +for herself, keeping up a constant chatter, Jip answering in his own +peculiar way. + +“Now, Jip,” said Bushy at last, as she sat down on the mossy mountain +side, “I am going to make a trimming of wild flowers to go all around +my blouse.” The joy of her freedom had blown Bushy’s usual good sense +to the four winds. Without realizing it she had wandered far out of +sight of the fort and the place was strange to her and time seemed to +fly on wings. It was not until the trimming grew into yards and yards +that she stopped to think. + +Jip was making for the grass growing at a little distance--his dinner +was all ready for him, but little girls can’t make a dinner on grass; +and oh, she was so hungry! For some minutes she sat very still. All was +silent about her, with only the insect buzzing, and Jip nibbling the +grass, and a bough cracking here and there as a squirrel passed over +it. The sunbeams fell through the leaves overhead and drew ever-varying +patterns of light and shade on the grassy mound at her feet. Bushy +thought, “I can’t see the fort anywhere,” and she began to feel uneasy. + +“Jip,” she called, and the pony, ever watchful, trotted up to her. + +“Guess we had better run home, old fellow, and get something to eat +besides grass. I am awful hungry.” Jip neighed a yes and knelt for her +to mount him. Off they went again, right down toward the valley; at +least, that is what Bushy thought. But after they had gone on and on +to her great surprise she came to a brook that leaped merrily over the +stones, making beautiful little waterfalls that Bushy could never have +seen before and forgotten. “How lovely!” she exclaimed; yet at the same +time her face grew serious, and checking the pony she looked all about +her. + +“I do declare, Jip, we have taken the wrong way! Oh, of course, we +ought to have gone to the left of the pine-tree. How stupid of you, +Jip, to let me go wrong. Didn’t you know we were trying to get back to +the fort?” + +So back they went, but no pine-tree was to be found. + +“Where is it, Jip? It was here a few minutes ago. We must have gone +wrong again. How very careless!” It was something new to Bushy to be in +a country where she could not travel as far as she wished yet never be +out of sight of some landmark that would point out to her the location +of Great Pine Mine. But now, after endless turning and walking, she +confessed that she was hopelessly lost. + +“Oh, Jip,” she sobbed, “how I wish I had minded the Padre! After dark +the bears and maybe other dreadful animals will come after us, and I +have nothing but one revolver and no belt to carry it in to be ready +to shoot quick.” Remorse and grief such as she had not felt since she +carried Pete to the fort against her father’s orders now stormed her +heart. + +After a few minutes’ thinking, some of her good sense came back to her, +and she understood that she would never get back to camp unless she +trusted to Jip or stayed where she was until some one came out to hunt +her. “If Jip doesn’t seem to know what to do, I’ll stay just here and +trust to Tom’s hunting me in the right place. + +“Jip,” she said, patting his head and talking distinctly, “go home, go +back to the Padre, do you understand? Go back to your dinner and stall; +go hunt the Padre and take me home!” She jumped on him, threw down the +bridle and gave him a smart cut with the whip, a thing she had not done +ten times in the months she had possessed him. The horse whirled about +as if frightened; danced and capered as if undecided what to do. + +“Jip, dear old Jip, see if you can find the way back to the Padre now. +I am sure you can.” + +He whinnied intelligently, and Bushy, taking this as a token that he +understood her, trusted to him and good fortune. + +Bushy soon felt faint with hunger. It must be about four o’clock, she +thought, looking at the sun. In two hours her father would come home +and miss her. Her heart beat loud. What would he think? + +All of a sudden Jip stopped and began sniffing and neighing joyfully, +but before Bushy could think what was the matter with him off he +started at a flying gallop, faster and faster, hardly touching the +ground with his feet. Bushy clung to his mane breathless, never had the +pony acted in this way before. A feeling of relief came over her. “Jip +has smelled the way back and is running for dear life to get me home +safe,” she thought. + +But surely that white mass in the distance with dark figures walking to +and fro was no soldiers’ fort. A cold shiver ran over her as they drew +nearer. Jip was taking her to an Indian camp! “Whoa, Jip, whoa, old +fellow!” but Jip did not seem to hear. Bushy knew that she was lost. +The pony had evidently scented some old friend in the group, and was +taking the little girl with him, a prey to her enemies. She was unable +to get at her revolver, even should there be any good in defending +herself. What service would killing one or even two Indians do her, +she quickly reasoned as Jip dashed onward. Nothing would be gained by +jumping off, for already her approach was observed. + +Jip galloped in among the wigwams, Bushy clinging to his mane, pale +with fright, and staring wildly at the redskins she feared so much. +What a commotion followed! What jabbering! How the Indians crowded +about! What caresses Jip got, and how surprised the savages were over +the child’s appearance. The squaws fingered her blouse and pulled off +some of the flowers. The young bucks noticed her saddle and felt of the +bridle and bits. She was lifted from the pony by the young chief, who +had evidently at some time been the master of Jip, and he handed her +over to a cross old squaw, who was to hold her in safe-keeping. + +“Oh, Jip!” wailed Bushy as she disappeared into the wigwam and faithful +Jip tried to go to her, but the chief prevented him. Night was closing +in and the thought of her poor father’s anxiety made her tears start +afresh. Her sobs stirred the pity of a young Indian girl, sitting near +the entrance of the wigwam. She gave Bushy a drink, and reassured her +as much as she could. Bushy was soon left alone. The excitement of the +day had made her feverish, and the wound on her head began to sting, +but notwithstanding the grief and pain she began to plan to get away. +She didn’t want to be roasted alive, or pierced with arrows. Of the +loss of her scalp she was almost sure, so she thought it was no use +fretting any more over her fluffy hair. + +The more she thought the less she could conceive of any way to escape. +The Indians set a watch over her--this seemed very serious. If they +didn’t kill or scalp her now, they would certainly take her with them +in their first attack on the miners and kill her before their very +eyes. Indeed, now that she came to think of it, she was sure they would +do that. + +Fatigue and pain had exhausted her, and the sickening fear of a cruel +death was too much. Brave Bushy for the second time showed weakness and +fainted away on the little bed of leaves where the squaw had placed +her. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + + +Bushy was very much surprised when, in the middle of the night, she +woke up. Generally when once she was asleep it required a good deal of +shaking to wake her before the usual time of getting up. + +“I am feeling awful queer! I wish I knew what’s the matter with me. +There is something, but I cannot remember,” she thought drowsily. + +Then by and by the dreadful truth came home to her. She was a prisoner +among the Indians! + +The night was very clear, the bright moonshine made it almost like +twilight. She could distinguish the dark forms of the people in the +wigwam; they were all fast asleep, their regular breathing proved that. +Bushy’s heart gave a great bound. Oh, if she could only get out of +there! Suddenly in the silence her ear caught the sound of a rustle +outside the wigwam, as if some one were cautiously coming through the +long grass. She grew frightened, but soon all her fears changed into +great joy. A well-known sniffing and snorting betrayed to her that Jip +had been nosing about for his little mistress and had found her. + +“Jip,” whispered Bushy, ever so softly. + +To her unutterable alarm Jip neighed loudly and repeatedly; the Indians +in the wigwams moved uneasily. + +Bushy kept motionless, almost breathless, for some minutes. Would the +Indians wake up? If she could only get outside. But creeping past +the sleeping savages was by no means an easy task, and Bushy almost +despaired of getting to the pony. But out she must go; it was her only +chance of escape. + +She rolled over, her face downward on the floor, and lay perfectly +motionless for some time to make sure that the rustling of the dry +leaves had not been heard. Then she began to crawl cautiously along the +uneven ground. The entrance to the wigwam seemed miles off. She had +almost reached it, and could see the moonlit camp through the opening, +when the young Indian squaw who had been so kind to her the evening +before stirred in her sleep. + +“She is going to wake up, and she will murder me sure for trying to +run off,” Bushy thought, pressing herself closely to the ground. Her +heart beat like that of a frightened bird, and cold perspiration stood +in great drops on her forehead. But good luck attended her, and a +few minutes afterward she crawled out into the long grass, free, and +outside of the wigwam. Jip trotted up to her. + +“Sh! Keep still,” whispered Bushy. + +He thrust his cold nose in her hand and welcomed her with his best +tokens of affection. A piece of halter, showing that he had broken +loose from some tree, was still hanging about his neck. Bushy was as +yet in danger. She had to pass all the redskins sleeping around the +camp-fire; and without a decent revolver, too, what could she do to +defend herself! + +“I’ll go round by the edge of the camp,” she reasoned, “and hang on to +Jip and ride out sideways, so they won’t see me. They may let Jip roam +about, even if they should wake and see him.” + +In her joy at the slight prospect of deliverance she had been a little +off her guard, and had not noticed an Indian boy stealing up behind +her. The boy was frightened. The mother squaw had told him the little +girl was dead when she fainted and fell over so still on the bed of +leaves early in the evening. This explains, in a measure, why the +Indians did not watch her more closely. They thought she was dying, +hence they curled up carelessly in the different corners of the camp +and went sound asleep. + +Jip, moving uneasily, made Bushy turn her head and face the boy, who +with wild and frightened eyes gazed upon her. Her heart sank, but +freedom was worth another effort, she thought. With a rapid movement +she drew the revolver out of her blouse and threw it at his head. +He staggered and fell back without a cry, disappearing in the long +grass that surrounded the tent. Bushy then jumped on Jip’s back and +whispered: “Home, home! Jip; let us hunt the Padre. Quick!” + +Bushy hung on one side, the side away from the Indians, and clung +desperately to Jip’s mane and to an old rope lariat that she had +dexterously and quickly thrown about his body. She had tied it with a +slip knot, thus making a surcingle to which she clung with her feet. In +the white moonlight, as Jip’s hoofs sank deep in the moss, they looked +like spectres moving noiselessly about at midnight. + +Whether the Indian boy was dead or only stunned, and whether the other +Indians waked up, Bushy never knew, but when at last she was miles +from the camp, she felt that there was some hope of again embracing +her father. She resolved to stay in the bushes till daybreak, knowing +that neither Jip nor herself could find their way back in the pitchy +darkness. The moon had by this time disappeared, and she could scarcely +see her hand before her. + +[Illustration: “SH! KEEP STILL,” WHISPERED BUSHY.] + +“I think I had better not lie down and sleep; wild beasts might come, +and I could not get away if I were not on the watch. I’ll just slip +off you, Jip, ’cause I am so tired, and sit down against the tree a +little while and keep my eyes open. I wish I had my revolver, I would +not be afraid then. + +“There is no use crying over spilt milk,” Bushy murmured as she found a +good seat and firmly resolved not to go to sleep. + +“Don’t leave me, Jip; keep right here.” + + * * * * * + +When Mr. Sukolt came home the day before, he had thought it rather +strange not to find Bushy waiting for him at the door of the fort as +she usually did. + +“Playing hide-and-seek with the old Padre, little girl?” he exclaimed, +giving a merry whistle to let her know he was there. “Wait, I’ll find +you, you rascal!” + +He went all over the rooms and through the passages, looking in every +corner and behind every barrel and bag, but no Bushy was to be found. +None of the soldiers knew where she had gone and no one remembered +seeing her all day. + +No answer came to his repeated call. “Perhaps she is in the stable with +Jip,” and off he started for the stable. Just imagine his alarm when he +not only failed to find Bushy, but missed Jip, too! + +“She has gone off, though I expressly forbade it! I am afraid the child +is running wild. All those Indians are abroad, too!” + +Night began to close in and no Bushy came. Half mad with alarm, he +called the captain and told him about his little daughter’s absence. + +“You had better let me send out some soldiers in search of her,” said +the captain. + +“Thank you,” said Mr. Sukolt, his voice full of gratitude, and they +were soon on their way. The shifting lights of the lanterns and the +cries of “Bushy! Bushy!” disturbed the quiet of the sleeping birds. At +eleven o’clock the searchers returned, and all had the same sad message +to tell--the little girl was nowhere to be found--and the hunt was +given up until daylight. + +For more than an hour Mr. Sukolt sat in dumb despair, too dispirited to +think of anything but his lost darling. + +It was three o’clock when he walked out into the darkness and wandered +aimlessly about. As he approached the bushes on the east side, perhaps +a quarter of a mile from the fort, he was suddenly startled from his +gloomy reveries by the neighing of a horse, a neigh that sounded like +heavenly music in his ear. + +“Father in heaven!” he exclaimed, making great strides forward. “If +that is Jip, Bushy must be near, too.” + +At the same moment Jip made his way through the bushes and trotted +toward Mr. Sukolt. The pony circled about and galloped back to the +spot where Bushy sat against the tree, sleeping as soundly and quietly +as if she had been in her little bed in the fort. Mr. Sukolt gathered +her in his arms and covered the face of his naughty little girl with +kisses. + +“My darling! my darling!” was all that he could say. + +Bushy woke up with a start, and could not at first make out what had +happened. + +“Oh, I say, I went off to sleep, after all. Jip, you stupid fellow, +could you not keep me awake?” Then the memory of what had brought about +this adventure came back to her, and she clasped her arms around her +father’s neck, sobbing in shame and penitence. + +“Oh, Padre, I have been so naughty! I got lost. I do not deserve to be +found by you or anybody else. I guess you will never trust me again as +long as you live!” + +“Softly, softly, my little girl,” said her father, soothingly. “Let +us first go home. You were very near the fort, without knowing it. I +cannot understand what Jip could have been thinking about.” + +“Oh! Padre, it was not Jip’s fault, because I climbed off his back +and told him to keep close, and he did, I guess, until he heard you +coming. But, Padre, he took me straight into the Indian camp and they +made me a prisoner and”---- + +“My God! Bushy, dear, what is it you say?” exclaimed her father, +drawing her closer to him. His emotion frightened Bushy more than +all the peril she had that day gone through. Between sobs and fitful +laughs, half hysterical, she spent the remainder of the night telling +her adventures to her father and the boys as they gathered about. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + + +“Come, my work here is done, the maps are all finished, and I want to +go to Central City as soon as we can get away. How long does my little +girl think it will take us to pack the wagons?” + +“Oh, Padre, how jolly! I think it won’t take more than one day. Let’s +begin now.” + +Bushy was so glad at the prospect of a change that she danced around +the room and finally ran out to tell Tom and Shanks and Jip of the +journey before them. + +It was almost a week after her last escapade, and in all that time +Bushy had not once moved from the immediate neighborhood of the fort. +She knew now that even the cleverest little girl can get into trouble +when she is disobedient. + +After a warm farewell from the kind captain and the soldiers, they +left; Bushy riding Jip and waving her calico handkerchief till they +were out of sight. + +“Here we are going again, Jip, old boy! Hurrah!” she cried, and Jip, +thinking it fit to express his approval, made a wild caper and set off +for a run in front. + +Mr. Sukolt called to her: “We are going to have company, little +tomboy, two wagons from a California immigrant train are to join us +soon. I think we shall see them to-morrow or the day after.” Bushy +was thoughtful for some moments. She did not receive the news very +enthusiastically. She was perfectly happy with her father and Tom and +Shanks and the pony, and did not wish for more company. + +“I hope there will be good men in those wagons,” was all she said. She +had not seen a white woman or any but redskin boys and girls for years, +so the possibility of meeting travellers other than men did not enter +her mind. + +That same night the other wagons appeared, and Bushy was anxious to see +how the men looked. The neatest looking of the two vehicles, however, +was kept closed, and though Bushy went around twice she could not get a +peep at its inmates, so she went to bed very cross. + +“If they don’t show up and make friends to-day I’ll bombard their door, +sure as I live,” said Bushy to herself, when she woke up the next +morning. There was no necessity, however, for this extreme measure, for +when she looked out there was a woman, not an Indian squaw, but a real +live white woman in plain sight. She was very tall and gaunt, with +projecting jaws and sharp elbows. Her hair was of a dull brick-red and +on it she wore a grass-green sun-bonnet. Bushy gazed upon this picture +in the deepest admiration. + +“What a beautiful woman,” she said; “and what a beautiful hat! I wonder +if Tom can make me one like it.” Bushy locked her arms behind her and +sidled around to get a better view of the latest style in head-gear, +when her eyes opened wider than ever in surprise. + +“Jimminy! There’s a little woman, too,” she cried, suddenly. Hastening +up to the wagon she called out: “Say, did you know I was in the other +wagon? My name’s Bushy, and I’ve got Tom and Shanks and Padre along +with me.” + +“Hello, if there isn’t a little boy, sure as I live!” cried the woman. +“Why”---- + +“Oh, I’m not a little boy,” screamed Bushy, turning a handspring in the +road in her great delight. Then, with one jump she landed on the tongue +of the wagon, and, clinging to the box with her hands, looked at the +two new-comers curiously. + +The woman was still laughing at Bushy’s handspring, and the child had +not yet stopped clapping its hands when Bushy astonished them with +another cry. + +“You sweet little woman! I love little women and big women, too. Such +a pretty scalp! Awful long, aren’t they?” She lifted the golden curls +to her lips and kissed them again and again. “My mamma had long curls, +and they were yellow, so Padre says. My hair sticks out. It won’t wind +around my fingers this way.” + +“I’m a boy, and my name is Willie,” exclaimed the child, “and I can +beat you in a horse-race. Mamma and I are going out now ahead of the +train, and I’ll run a race with you if you’ve got a horse.” + +“If I have a horse? Well, I just guess I have!” replied Bushy as she +drew away and felt a little bit offended. “But, of course, you don’t +know Jip yet. I’ll run and get him. Oh, how jolly to have a race with a +real boy!” + +She started to climb down from the wagon when she saw Willie’s mother +smiling at her. “I’ve got a real dress, but I can’t wear it any more, +because Rover spoiled it years ago by dragging me through the muddy +pond when I had it on. The pink has all run into the white, and it’s +shrivelled up now.” + +“I wasn’t laughing at your boy’s suit,” replied the woman. “It’s just +the thing to wear on a trip like this, and I am glad you are along. I +had a little girl once, but she is dead.” + +“A little girl like me?” exclaimed Bushy, springing up and clasping the +woman about her neck. “Maybe you are like my mamma, and I’ll grow up +to look just like you. I love mammas, but I never saw one before.” + +[Illustration: BUSHY GAZED UPON THIS PICTURE IN THE DEEPEST ADMIRATION.] + +“Bushy, child!” cried her father, coming forward just in time to see +her kiss Willie’s funny looking mother. “It seems to me you are rather +familiar on such short acquaintance.” + +“It’s a woman, Padre; such a beautiful woman, with long hair, see?” She +patted the heavy coils of reddish hair fondly. + +“Don’t scold her, please,” said the woman to Mr. Sukolt. “We are fast +friends. I want to get some cactus pears, and your little girl can go +with me, if you have no objections.” + +Bushy and Willie hurried away, each so happy and full of admiration for +the other that they could scarcely separate to saddle and bridle the +ponies. + +“A beautiful woman,” said Bushy in a hurried whisper to her father, +as she swung her rifle over her shoulder. She gazed again on the lank +figure, half shutting her eyes in the ecstasy of her delight. Her idea +of the beautiful was very amusing to her father. + +“Do you think I will ever grow to look like that?” she asked, with +enthusiasm. + +“I hope not,” answered her father, dryly. + +Bushy went on: “The little boy with the long curls is dressed ’most +like me. A real live little boy! Oh, Padre, won’t I have fun beating +him in the race! He says he’s ten years old.” + +The three rode off on the keen jump. Astride on a bony horse sat the +woman, tall like a man, and with coarse, masculine features. The large +green sun-bonnet flapped in the wind, and her hoarse voice could be +heard telling the children not to run far at a time and then wait for +her to catch up. Her poor beast stood no show with Bushy’s and Willie’s. + +“Do you see that great tall tree far off there?” cried Bushy to Willie. + +“Yes,” he answered and his blue eyes snapped with delight. “I’ll get +there first,” and away they flew, Jip and Bob--Willie’s horse--both in +for the run. Bushy won this first heat, but it was only the beginning +of a series of races in which success was about equally divided. + +At last they came to where the cactus beds were laden with pears, +and the mother proposed dismounting. While she gathered the prickly +fruit the children picked flowers, Bushy selecting choice and strange +blossoms for her father, who generally could tell her what they were, +and Willie filling his hands with everything he could find. Suddenly +Bushy heard the woman’s voice crying “Great heaven, what will become +of us!” She looked up and both mother and boy were out of sight. She +could see no one, yet could hear shriek after shriek, first from Willie +then from his mother. For a second Bushy’s heart stood still with +fright. “A snake, maybe! perhaps a bear!” She did not move from her +position, but quickly examined her rifle and found it all right. + +She crawled on her hands and knees to a little bend around which Willie +and his mother must have wandered. The screams continued, and Bushy +at last caught a glimpse of Willie in the clutches of a big redskin, +who was getting ready to use the scalping knife artistically on that +beautiful hair. The mother was on her knees endeavoring to drag the +child away. + +“Ugh!” grunted the Indian angrily, and he gave her a blow with his +tomahawk that stretched her at his feet. Bushy stood up. The Indian saw +her. Not fearing the child he did not drop poor Willie, but instead, +hastened to gather up the curly hair for the scalping. + +“He is going to kill me,” screamed Willie in terror, and his little +legs gave out. He sank to his knees, still held up by the curls that +were clutched so firmly in the Indian’s red fingers. The savage drew +Willie roughly to his feet again and turned his back on Bushy. She +raised her rifle and fired. The aim was good and the Indian fell, but +Willie had been badly cut. A great gash on one side of his head had +sent the blood running down his white face and it covered his buckskin +blouse. + +“It don’t hurt very much,” said Willie, trying to wipe the blood from +his face. “Look, Bushy, and see what he did to me.” + +She took some grass, wiped round the cut and cried with joy: “Oh, +Willie, he has only cut a slit; your scalp isn’t off at all.” + +“But mamma--she is dead!” and the boy began to cry. + +“Sit down by her, Willie, and I will ride back for Shanks; Shanks knows +everything.” Bushy was on Jip and out of sight before Willie had time +to say he was afraid to stay alone. Bushy’s frantic riding told her +father that there was something wrong, and before she had reached the +wagons, Mr. Sukolt, Shanks, and Willie’s father were on their horses +and on their way to meet her. + +“Willie’s all right, but his mamma looks dead,” gasped Bushy, turning +and leading the men to the spot where the woman lay so still. + +“He’s all right,” said Shanks after examining the cut on Willie’s head; +“and your wife, Mr. Goodwin,” he added, turning to Willie’s father, +“will be herself in a little while; I imagine she fainted more from +fright than from the blow on the head.” + +“Who killed the Indian?” asked Mr. Goodwin, gazing with astonishment at +the dead redskin. + +“I was too slow, Padre, but they were a long way from me when the +Indian grabbed Willie. Will the beautiful lady be angry with me, do you +think, because I did not shoot quicker?” + +“I don’t think so,” was all her father could say as he clasped her to +his breast. + +“My brave little girl must be taken out of this kind of life,” he +added, after they had returned to the wagons and Bushy had fallen +asleep with her arms clasped tight about his neck. “I’ll send her to +school in Central City if I ever get her there.” + + + + +CHAPTER XXV + + +Three days after Willie’s narrow escape, Mr. Sukolt and his party +arrived at Silver City, a mining camp consisting of seven cabins and +one paying mine. + +“I must stay here one day to give the horses and mules a rest and +have a chance to look over this district,” said Mr. Sukolt to Tom and +Shanks early in the morning as their wagons drew up to the spring about +which were gathered all the men of the little place. The animals were +unhitched. The miners were only too glad to have Mr. Sukolt examine the +property. They wanted the children to go along with them to the mines, +but both preferred amusing themselves in their own way. + +“We will take Rover with us and have some fun,” said Bushy to Willie. +“Tom says there is no fear of Indians about here, because they are +afraid of the white men when there are a lot living together.” + +“They did not get me and my mamma, did they, Bushy?” laughed Willie +as he felt for the tender spot on his head where the cruel knife had +slashed through the skin. + +“You look awful funny, Willie, with two big curls gone. Why don’t you +cut them all off and give me half to remember you by?” + +“I like you, Bushy, and will give them all to you; won’t you cut them +off?” + +Willie looked so pleadingly into Bushy’s face that she tried to think +she ought to take them, yet in her heart she felt guilty over coveting +the fair hair. “If you want them cut off very, very much, why I can do +it for you, but they are awfully pretty curls, Willie.” + +Bushy felt better after saying that. + +“Never mind, you cut them all the same,” cried Willie. “Let us go up +the canyon where nobody will know it before it is all over with.” + +“Perhaps we had better tell the Padre,” remarked Bushy, timidly. But +Willie had fled around the corner of the wagon and diving his hand +into the provision box that was still on the camp ground had secured +a pair of dull scissors that the men used for cutting canvas and rope +fastenings. “Here,” he cried, thrusting them into her hand; “now, let’s +hurry. Rover, come Rover, we want you!” + +The children ran off, chasing butterflies, gathering flowers, and +forgetting all about the hair-cutting scheme. + +It was fully half an hour before a peal of thunder announced that, +as Bushy put it, “the clouds were fighting.” The children were now +following a path which led close to a precipice. Great trees grew on +the mountain-side a little way above, and Willie broke from Bushy’s +clinging hand and sought shelter underneath the branches of the largest +one. + +“Oh, Willie, Willie, don’t do that. Don’t you know if the lightning +strikes, it will surely take the tall trees and you would be killed. +Come away! do, Willie; don’t be afraid of the rain; it won’t hurt you.” + +By this time the water was coming down in great sheets. Bushy could +scarcely see Willie. The thunder roared and bellowed, and though Bushy +called to the boy again, she knew he could not hear her. The lightning +kept up a continual flashing. Willie cried and clung with both arms to +the trunk of the pine-tree. + +“I’ll go pull him away; he must not stay there,” thought Bushy as she +started up the mountain-side. Just then there was a flash of lightning +that not only blinded her but threw her flat upon the ground. + +“Ah, that struck somewhere close.” A scream from Willie relieved her, +yet it seemed a long time before she could get on her feet and look for +him. “Oh! Willie, that is worse than ever,” she cried, as he, in his +fright, fled from the first tree and sought shelter under one close to +the path. Another flash, accompanied by a cracking and crashing and a +whirl of wind, told Bushy one of those awful mountain wind-storms was +on them. + +“Throw yourself on the ground,” screamed Bushy, but Willie could not +hear. In his alarm he started again to run and Bushy ran after him, +begging him to stop and let them hide behind some of the great rocks +near. A deafening peal of thunder made him seek a tree again and throw +his arm around it. + +The wind now rushed upon them, and at times would lift Bushy entirely +from her feet and hurl her roughly against the rocks; once she almost +went over the cliff. + +“Oh! if Willie would only mind,” she thought as she struggled on to +overtake him; “we may both be killed if we keep in the open path this +way.” + +“Padre mio! what was that?” she tumbled all in a heap and could not get +up. Something heavy had rolled down upon her buckskin jacket and held +her fast. It was the heavy limb of a tree broken off by the wind. Peal +after peal of thunder rattled until she could not think, and lightning +played around her in the most alarming manner. “The scissors! the +scissors!” she screamed. “They are doing all this.” With an effort she +cast them from her belt. + +A loud barking filled her heart with joy. “Rover, has come! Rover, +here, Rover!” she called, and he came bounding upon her with his shaggy +coat wet and dripping. + +“Go to Willie! Hunt Willie!” she commanded, at the same time freeing +herself from the limb with a sudden effort. + +She turned and looked down the path where she had seen Willie last. “He +is gone!” she gasped, and her heart stood still in terror. Rover leaped +to the edge of the precipice and began to howl dreadfully. + +“The tree has been struck with lightning,” was her second exclamation. +“Padre, Padre, I wish you were here,” wailed Bushy, running with all +her might to the place and looking down to the water below. + +“Willie!” she screamed. + +There was no reply except the thunder, which continued to roar. Leaning +way over and looking down the precipice she got a glimpse of Willie’s +blouse as he lay on the very edge of a jutting rock that extended out +into the water below. + +“Willie, can you hear me?” No answer. “Hush, Rover, you make me want to +cry,” said Bushy, as Rover set up another series of mournful whines. + +Bushy realized that the water would gradually wash Willie into the +swift stream, and he would be carried away never to be seen again. + +“Oh, why have I neither rope nor revolver!” she cried. “Three shots +from my revolver would bring any of the men to us. Padre always knows +by three shots that I want him. No rope, nothing!” + +She stopped talking and worked her way back to the place where she had +thrown away the scissors. “If I can make a rope by cutting my jacket +and skirt into strips I can get to Willie and hold him on the rocks +till some one comes to find us.” + +To make the rope long enough she used every bit of her clothing, except +her little flannel pants and waist. Her stockings were both knotted +in. It took her a long time to tie the strips together, because the +wind was strong and the rain pelted her, but finally she fastened the +improvised rope around the trunk of the blighted tree and began to let +herself down. The buckskin held strong. + +Carefully, carefully she descended, until at last her feet touched +Willie’s body. She caught hold of his golden curls, and thus securing +him, she succeeded in moving about over the rocks until she got a safe +place to stand on. + +“I’ll hold you, Willie, dear,” she said, and after tying the rope about +her waist, so she could not be washed away, she drew him closer to her, +and thus with her arms wound about him and half chilled, her father +found her an hour later. + +Rover’s barking as he kept watch above had attracted the miners to the +spot. Mr. Sukolt had not worried about the children, thinking they were +with the wagons. + +“Give me the rope,” cried Mr. Sukolt, in a husky voice, as he took in +the situation. A miner handed over a lariat which he had taken along to +lower the bucket into the mine, and before the men realized what had +happened, Mr. Sukolt had swung down beside the children. Then balancing +himself by clinging to Bushy’s rope he called for the men to haul up +the other, attach the bucket and lower it immediately. + +Willie, limp and unconscious, was put in first. The storm was now over, +and an almost dreadful stillness reigned. The bucket slowly ascended. +The men said not a word when they lifted out the little boy and again +lowered the bucket for Bushy. Bushy had only murmured, “I could not +help it, Padre; he would go under the tree and the lightning struck +him.” Her white face set with pain and cold, grew whiter as her father +tenderly lifted her from her cramped position. + +Silently she was hoisted to the top. One of the miners wound his coat +close about her while another rubbed her chilled feet in his warm +hands. Mr. Sukolt then came, hand over hand up the rope, and the +little procession moved down toward the camp at Silver City. + +[Illustration: “I’LL HOLD YOU, WILLIE, DEAR,” SHE SAID.] + +“Any hope?” anxiously asked Bushy’s father as he placed Willie in +Shanks’s arms. “Bushy says he was struck by lightning.” + +“He’ll be all right to-morrow,” came cheerily from the miner’s lips; +“no doubt he fell backward, and that explains how he happened to go +over the cliff. He is hurt more by the fall than by the lightning.” + +Bushy cried herself to sleep that night. When it was learned how Willie +had meant to divide his hair with her, his mamma cut four of the +longest curls from his head and gave them to Bushy, saying: “It is all +I have to give for saving Willie from the wicked stream.” + +Bushy had the curls made into a beautiful necklace when she got big, +and often looks at it now, put away so carefully in a little square +box, lined with soft blue cotton, and wonders where Willie is, and if +he knows how much she loved her first little boy playmate. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI + + +“Jip, if you don’t keep still I will come out and whip you,” called +Bushy next morning about four o’clock. She raised the wagon-cover and +peeped out to see why the horse should make such a clatter that she +could not sleep. An odd light in the sky made her lift the canvas +higher and put her head outside so close to Jip’s nose that he snorted +with surprise. + +“What is it, Jip?” she asked, kissing his cold ears and patting him +lovingly. “Why, you are all of a tremble! It looks awfully light and +queer; not a bit like sunrise! It is the reddest we ever saw, Jip.” + +Rover uneasily crawled under the wagon, and, throwing up his nose +toward the bright sky, gave a little howl and then seemed to forget his +distress over whatever it was, in his joy at seeing Bushy. + +“Keep still, Rover,” she cried in a loud whisper; “you will wake +everybody up. How queer it smells! Why, that’s the wrong side for the +sun! It is smoke, I do believe! She sniffed the air and raised herself +high on the side of the wagon and leaned far out to get a better view. + +“Padre, the mountains are on fire!” was the cry that went like an +electric shock to the heart of every sleeper in the wagon, and roused +all instantly. + +Tom looked very funny without his skull-cap, and, had Bushy ever seen a +clown in a circus, she would have called him one then, because in his +alarm he had not stopped to protect his head, and without any hair and +his face white with fear, he made a very odd-looking picture. Shanks +had long hair, and it was all tousled and standing up almost straight, +as if it never meant to lie smooth again or be combed into curls about +his neck. Bushy burst into a laugh, forgetting the seriousness of +things. + +But the laugh died away on her lips, for one glance at the face of her +father, who was looking over their heads at the lurid sky, made her +remember all. + +“See yonder, boys,” he said, and he pointed to the north. The broad +heavens now seemed fairly on fire. The men turned and gazed in wonder, +then in fear. Tom hurriedly remarked: “We must get out of here. These +pine-trees will burn like paper.” + +“What is to be done?” cried Shanks, smoothing down his tangled locks +and fastening his belt snugly about his waist as if preparing for a +fight. + +Bushy was already dressing herself in a buckskin suit, exactly like +the one she had cut into strips the night before. “It will stand fire +better than any cloth,” she said to herself. + +“Great Scott, boys! we are in greater danger than I imagined; see +there!” exclaimed Tom. He pointed to a jack rabbit that was making its +way down the ravine toward the stream. “That is a bad sign. There goes +another. There is something leaping on the other side of the cliff. +There it goes; it looks like a deer! The fire must be very close!” + +By this time the other people in that little camp had been roused by +Tom’s loud calling, shaking at the wagon fronts, and pounding on cabin +doors. There were only seven cabins, and the inmates were all miners. + +“Where do you go in case of fire?” asked Mr. Sukolt of one of the +men, as he hurriedly saddled Jip and ordered Bushy to roll up two +horse-blankets and then jump on and await his orders. + +“There is no place of safety this side of the mines,” said the man +addressed. “The long tunnel abandoned six months ago can be utilized +for the horses and cattle if we can get them there, but”---- + +“Padre,” ventured Bushy, “don’t you remember the wide place in the +stream just below the mine, and don’t you remember how, back about two +hundred feet, a high ledge of rocks juts over the water--just below +where Willie fell yesterday? Maybe all of our wagons can be got under +there.” + +“I did not notice it. Perhaps we had better try, if you are sure of +what you are talking about. The tunnel will not hold all of us.” + +“Hi, Shanks,” he called, “Bushy will lead us to the shallow spot in the +stream, or where the water spreads, and”---- + +“I know I can, Shanks, because Willie and I waded almost across +yesterday, and the great ledge of rocks we called our fairyland. I know +we can get under, but I don’t know how we can get the wagons down.” + +“If you two children got down we can, and we will let the wagons go if +the fire proves a bad one. I would much prefer the water and rocks to +the tunnel.” + +So off they started, Bushy on Jip leading the way. + +“We are going to take to the water,” called Mr. Sukolt, as one of the +miners came back for a last look at the cabins, now deserted. + +“All right,” said the man, “but you are welcome to join us in the +tunnel. The wind is coming from the north, and will sweep down from +the back, and we have pumped up a lot of water, and will pump more in +hopes to keep the woodwork at the mouth of the tunnel from burning.” + +“Don’t go back far into the mine under any circumstances,” called Mr. +Sukolt. “I rather wish you would come with us; Bushy says she knows the +place is large, and the ledge is on the north side.” + +“No,” the man called back, “we are all right,” and he hastened after +the other men; Mr. Goodwin deciding to follow them to the tunnel +because of Willie and his mother. + +The wind began to rush upon them, bringing with it hot smoke and fine +cinders. Sheets of flame lighted the air for miles about. Great clouds +of smoke began to rise and darken the sky, until sudden day would turn +into sudden night. Then, as if the fire had attacked some new group of +pines, the light would burst up in the north and clouds of sparks would +shoot high, piercing the blackness like forks of lightning. + +“Hurry, drive faster, for heaven’s sake!” cried Mr. Sukolt to Tom, +who was in the lead. Shanks drove the second wagon, and Bushy and her +father rode horseback. + +“It’s coming close, Bushy,” cried her father. “You know we are placing +our lives in your hands, child!” He rode near and anxiously gazed into +her flushed and frightened face. + +“I know, Padre, that the water is shallow, and not so very rocky, and +that we can all get under the rocks, and that no trees grow close.” + +“Let her alone,” cried Tom, assuringly. “She never forgets a place; +don’t you know that, old man? I’d trust to her to lead me even in the +dark.” + +On they went, up and down, over rough places that almost upset the +wagons, and down steep pathways that scarcely allowed the passing of +the wheels. + +“All I fear, Padre, is that the wagons may not get through,” she cried, +once, when it was only by holding on to the wheels that Shanks and Tom +succeeded in keeping a wagon from tumbling over the edge of a precipice. + +“Here we are at last,” joyfully called Bushy, pointing to a place where +the water spread out like a fan. “We are safe now, are we not, Padre?” + +“I think so,” he replied, and he reached over and squeezed her little +hand. “What a blessing to us you remembered this spot! Go ahead to +where you and Willie were yesterday.” + +Now, light-hearted in the thought that she had done the right thing, +Bushy dashed down into the water and called for Tom and Shanks to +follow. + +Jip would not go farther; his head was turned to face the red sky. He +snorted and reared and pawed the water all over Bushy and her buckskin +suit, until she leaped from his back, and gripping his bits, scolded +and urged until he slowly but still resentfully followed her, Bushy +wading knee-deep in the water. Ofttimes he fairly lifted her from her +feet when the wind howled loudest and the flames seemed to roll over +their very heads. + +“Come on, Tom!” she called, “we are almost there.” Tom and Shanks were +obliged to lead their horses also, and the wagons went bumping over the +rocky bottom of the fierce little stream. + +“At last!” they all cried as the wagons were placed close under the +overspreading rocks and the horses were hitched and well tied. + +The air grew hot and the cracking and snapping and roaring of the angry +blaze made the animals snort and plunge. + +“Take out your blankets, dip them in the stream and throw them over the +horses,” cried Mr. Sukolt. The men did so, and then with buckets kept +the coverings saturated with water. Bushy had all she could do to hold +Jip. He was determined to rush across into the bright red flames. “Jip, +poor Jip, don’t be afraid. There, now, old fellow, keep cool; keep +cool, sir!” were the odd words that kept him in control. + +It was hours before the danger was over and the little group made their +way up the hill. A spot was selected where there had been few trees to +burn, and there they camped for the day. The horses and mules were +tied tight to the wheels of the wagons, as there was danger of their +getting badly burned if they wandered about. Silence reigned, a dull +smoke hung over their heads, and it was still hard to breathe. The +wind had rushed on with the fire, leaving all quiet and gloom-stricken +behind. + +[Illustration: “THERE, NOW, OLD FELLOW, KEEP COOL; KEEP COOL, SIR!”] + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII + + +The party in the tunnel had suffered dreadfully. The woodwork about +the mouth of the excavation had caught fire, and to save their lives +the miners had fought the flames with all their strength. Mrs. Goodwin +and Willie had been carried back around a turn in the tunnel where +the flames could not reach them, but they came very near suffocating. +The mules and horses had become unruly, and in the stampede, when the +fire was raging about them, two of the men had been badly kicked. Mrs. +Goodwin had fainted and lay like one dead for hours. Little Willie was +frightened into insensibility, and the men who were striving to save +the woodwork at the opening of the tunnel got sadly burned about their +hands and faces. + +“It was well that you took to the water,” called out one of the men who +was first to meet Mr. Sukolt when Bushy’s father came to investigate +the condition of the people in the tunnel. “Just look at the fix we are +in!” + +Bushy hastened back and searched for Willie and his mamma. The men had +placed them on a kind of shelf made of the walls of rock, and there +they lay white and still, with Mr. Goodwin frantic beside them. + +“Padre,” Bushy cried, “let me go back and hitch up one of the wagons.” + +“The way is covered with fallen trees,” he said. “It would take all +night to clear a road for a wagon. You must take Jip and bring Shanks’s +medicine-bag and the roll of bandages, while we get something to eat +and drink. What a blessing we are unhurt and able to help these poor +fellows!” He threw off his coat and so did Tom and Shanks, and those +who were most badly injured were soon resting on a temporary bed made +for them out of the half-burned clothing in the wagons. + +“We saved what you see by dipping blankets in the water and throwing +them over the side exposed to the fire,” said one miner. “But I believe +I shall die from the burns I got doing it,” and the poor fellow groaned +aloud with pain. + +“Oh, no, you won’t!” said Bushy, kneeling down close to him. “Shanks +can cure everything, and when you get something to eat you will be all +right.” + +Shanks soon revived Mrs. Goodwin. Then he gave little Willie some +medicine. “When he wakes up he will be all right,” said Shanks, in +answer to Bushy’s anxious inquiry. Shanks had been thoughtful enough +to bring a small medicine-box which answered their temporary needs, but +Bushy was sent back to bring the large one. + +“Hurry, child,” called Mr. Sukolt. “It will soon be dark, and we must +do all we can before the light goes. Look out for the burning trees.” + +“Here, Bushy, wait a minute!” called Tom, running after her. “Buckle on +my revolver, and should any of the horses be tangled or broken loose, +fire three times and I will come down. Perhaps I had better go along, +anyway,” and he started with her. + +“No, no, Tom,” insisted Bushy. “You make a big fire and get the supper +started. Everybody is starved. And by the time you get ready for me to +help you I’ll be back with the medicine-box. Why, I can put it in front +of me on Jip and be here again in no time. Jip can go anywhere I can.” + +So away she hurried down the path out of sight, on past the place +where Willie fell over the cliff, then down to the lowland, where the +wagons, mules, and horses had been left. No horses or mules were there. +The spot was bare, and only the deep cuts in the ground made by the +animals’ hoofs told that the place had ever been occupied. + +“Rover,” called Bushy. “Rover, where are you?” + +A joyous bark from the wagon, in which Rover had been chained ever +since the fire had been discovered, announced that he was all right. + +“Ah, I am not afraid with Rover and Tom’s revolver,” she said, +advancing to the first wagon and climbing in. + +Rover almost ate her up, he was so glad to see her. “Poor fellow,” +she called, “did you try to keep the horses, or did you untie their +halters?” + +This gave Bushy a new idea. “I wonder if they did get away by +themselves, after all.” She set Rover free; he was out of the wagon as +quick as she was, then she began to examine carefully the imprints in +the ground. + +“That’s queer,” she finally exclaimed, kneeling to look more carefully +at a man’s footprint. “Neither Padre, nor Tom, nor Shanks ever wore +a boot like that. Rover, has anybody been here?” she cried, fairly +shaking the dog off his feet in her anxiety to know. + +“Bow-wow!” answered Rover as loud as he could, and then bounded off +toward the creek and sniffed and howled on the bank. + +“Horse-thieves, as sure as I live!” she said to herself; “and poor +Rover was tied so he could not defend even Jip. + +“I’ll just take a look about, so I can tell the Padre which way they +have gone,” she thought, and ran after Rover and looked down the +stream. + +“They tried to follow the creek, Rover,” she screamed at last in +delight; “but look, old fellow, they had to come out just below; there +are the tracks! Come, let us see what they did afterward.” Her heart +was almost broken to think Jip was stolen, too. + +“What’s that, Rover?” She paused and listened. Rover’s nose went high +in the air as it always did when he thought he understood. Bushy put +her ear to the ground. “It’s only the falling branches, Rover. They are +breaking all the time and burning, too, in some places.” Rover, every +now and then, howled with fright and pain as he would step on some hot +stick or brand. They managed to make their way to a sudden turning +around a sharp rocky bend. The scene that they then witnessed was +startling. There was a Mexican greaser, as the half-breeds are called, +riding one of the mules and leading the other animals. Jip was ugly, +and every few seconds would pull back and almost unseat the Mexican. +They were going slowly, yet no doubt would get out of the burnt woods +soon, and then there would be no hope of ever catching the horses or +the thief. + +“Rover, we must get the horses,” said Bushy, softly, shutting her mouth +with a snap that meant she would fight for them if necessary. + +“I am so far away now I don’t think Tom or any one at the tunnel would +hear the three shots, and then I may need them myself, if the Mexican +is mean. I’ll shoot him if he doesn’t give up Jip.” + +Even in all this danger a smile came to her lips, and her eyes for a +moment sparkled. “Sh! Rover, lie down; we will fix the Mexican.” + +She dodged behind the huge bowlder that had so long kept the horse and +horse-thief from her view, and gave a peculiar whistle. Jip pricked up +his ears as if he thought he had heard something, then as if in doubt, +trotted on with the rest of the horses. The path was now wide and quite +clear of fallen trees, so that the Mexican was trying to make good +headway. + +“Now, Rover, watch!” said Bushy, and she gave the whistle three times, +so loud and shrill that it seemed to pierce the very heart of both Jip +and the thief. Jip gave a sudden bound backward and followed with a +decided jump toward the place where Bushy lay hidden. The Mexican, with +a curse, fell to the ground, and before he could drop the halter by +which he had been leading Jip, he was dragged some distance. + +With a soft chuckle Bushy grabbed Jip’s halter and sprang on his back +and was down upon the Mexican horse-thief before he had well regained a +standing position. Tottering and blinded, he looked up, expecting to be +killed on the spot. + +“Throw up your hands, sir!” called out Bushy in her childish voice. The +man was so surprised that he merely gaped at her. + +“Throw up your hands!” she cried again, and this time he looked into +the muzzle of a revolver. “You were stealing my father’s horses, and +the miners hang men for that. You must help me take them back to the +tunnel. Where are your revolvers? Are you unarmed?” + +“I lost everything while fighting with the fire. The belt broke and +I have nothing, señorita,” was the bland answer. “I am badly burnt +and”---- + +“But not too bad to stop you from stealing my father’s horses and my +Jip,” interrupted Bushy. The stealing of Jip incensed her more than the +taking of the other six animals. + +“I will not shoot you so long as you behave. But I must take you and +the horses back to the Padre. If you are burned, Shanks will doctor +you. Padre never hangs people, so you need not be afraid; but now take +up the halters of the animals and lead them back to the wagons. Take +the two mules first; tie the others here so they won’t wander.” + +Bushy kept the revolver pointed at the man’s head and never took her +eyes off him. When he had the two mules ready to lead, she ordered him +to go ahead. Slowly he advanced, and in cowardly fashion gazed back +every few seconds into the muzzle of the revolver. + +“I can shoot,” cried Bushy once, when she thought the man looked as if +he were going to try and run. “I will drop you as sure as you live, +if you try to get away.” The odd glitter in her eye advised the thief +to obey, and he slowly led the mules to the end of the wagon and tied +them securely. “Now,” said Bushy, “we will not go back for the horses, +they can stay there until Tom goes after them; we will go to the tunnel +where the men are.” + +Bushy was growing a little bit frightened. The revolver began to shake +in her hand. She realized that the Mexican might get the advantage of +her, and now she wished she had fired the three shots for help. + +“Go right up that path,” she said, indicating the way with the nod of +her head. The man started, but began fumbling oddly about his flannel +shirt for something. + +“What’s the matter?” she asked in a very brave voice, though her heart +was full of fear. + +“I am burnt badly,” he answered. Then looking up he saw two men +hastening down upon them. They were Tom and Shanks, who had started out +to learn why Bushy delayed bringing the medicine-box. The Mexican’s +eyes flashed wickedly, and, with a sudden, lightning movement, he +turned and made a dash at Bushy, with a bright dagger in his uplifted +hand. + +Simultaneously with his yell of defiance came the report of a pistol, +and the man fell headlong under Jip’s legs. + +The instant Bushy realized her danger she had fired, and when she saw +the man unable to get up her arm sank to her side, and the revolver +fell to the ground. + +Jip jumped to one side and gave a neigh of recognition as Tom and +Shanks ran breathlessly toward him. + +No word was spoken until Bushy was held safely in Shanks’s arms. Then +Tom stepped over to the writhing Mexican, and asked, in a trembling +voice, though he tried not to show his agitation: “What was the row, +Bushy?” + +“He is a horse-thief, Tom,” she answered, raising herself out of +Shanks’s embrace long enough to take a good square look at the man. “He +had stolen every one of the horses and was driving them down stream. +Oh, Shanks, wasn’t it awful to have to shoot him! But he rushed at me, +did you see?” Bushy buried her face in Shanks’s buckskin blouse, and +Rover took it upon himself to guard the wounded man, and snap and snarl +at his every move. + +Three shots soon brought Mr. Sukolt and one of the miners to the +scene. It was another long hour before they all got back to the tunnel +again, and it was two days before everything was in condition to +proceed on their journey. Mr. Goodwin and his family remained at Silver +City. + +[Illustration: THE INSTANT BUSHY REALIZED HER DANGER, SHE FIRED.] + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII + + +“Central City! Here we are,” cried Tom as the wagons reached a high +point in the road, from which the travellers could look down on a small +town; its little shanties scattered along the side of the mountains. + +“It is beautiful,” exclaimed Bushy. “I never saw so many houses in my +life. Oh, look! there is a little girl, and there goes a boy! Oh, what +a lot of them! One, two, three--Padre, there are six, sure as I live. +Hurry the horses, Shanks; let’s catch them before they get away.” + +“You don’t think they are mountain sheep, do you, Puss?” said Shanks, +with a wink. “I have an idea that they live down there the year round, +and you can get a look at them any time.” + +“That’s so,” said Bushy, with a laugh. “I forgot things didn’t run away +in a great city. This is a great city, isn’t it, Padre?” + +“The largest about here. Bill Shoemaker said there was to be a school +opened, and that is why we came this way.” + +“Perhaps school will disagree with me,” murmured Bushy. “Maybe I won’t +take to children. Most likely Rover and Jip will be homesick, and you +will send for me to come home again.” + +“Home! You don’t know what the word means, child.” + +“I don’t know just what you mean when you say home, but I know what I +mean. I mean wherever the Padre is, that is what I call home.” + +Bushy did not know how near her chatter came to bringing tears to her +father’s eyes, and she kept right on, scarcely stopping for breath in +her excitement over entering a real town. + +It did not take the party long to unhitch the horses and pitch the tent +on the outskirts of Central City. + +“We must get Bushy some clothes,” said Shanks, who was more thoughtful +about her looks than any of the others. “She looks funny even for a +mining town. She must have shoes first.” + +“Of course she must!” exclaimed her father. “I will go with her and +pick them out.” + +“Oh, Padre, let me do it. I never was in a big store in my life. I want +to go alone, just for fun.” + +“I don’t see any fun in buying shoes, but I don’t object. Go down to +where you see the bend in the road. A Fourth of July flag still waves +in front; do you see it?” + +“Yes,” said Bushy breathlessly, as she fairly danced about in her +anxiety to be off. + +“Go into that store and say you are Mr. Sukolt’s daughter, and that he +will pay for the shoes you select.” + +“Yes, yes, I can do all that,” and off Bushy flew down the road. + +“Please, sir,” said Bushy walking up to the counter--her head coming +not so very far above it--“I want a pair of real shoes, like the folks +about here wear.” + +“What kind did you have last. Let me see and then I can get some idea +of what kind you want.” + +“I never had any last,” sighed Bushy, gazing down at her moccasins. + +“Oh! you are Mr. Sukolt’s little girl, are you?” inquired Mr. Richards, +the owner of the store, and he smiled and leaned over to shake her by +the hand. + +“Yes, sir; I am not so awfully little though,” she replied, half +offended at the word. + +“You shall have your pick of my stock just the same,” said the shoeman, +and he set before her all kinds of foot-wear. + +Bushy gazed upon them with a critical eye and shook her head. “Once I +saw what was awfully pretty and I want something just like it.” + +“Tell me about it, do,” said the shoeman. “I’ll have a pair made for +you.” + +“This girl was in a picture that hung in Shanks’s cabin until a fire +came and burned it up. Her shoes came up awfully high and had buttons +on the side, and a lot of pretty marks all around the edges.” + +“What do you want such shoes for?” questioned Mr. Richards, and he +laughed softly as if much amused. + +“To wear to school; I am going to stay here and learn to study.” + +“I have only one pair of button shoes and they have buttons on both +sides, but, by jove! you shall have them if you want them. They are a +sample pair that we could never sell here.” + +He brought out a pair of delicate kid boots that laced up the front and +had a beautiful embroidered piece that buttoned on one side and lapped +over the lacing, and then buttoned down fast on the other, making an +ornamental front that extended from the toe of the boot to the top. + +Bushy’s eyes beamed with delight. Her moccasin was off in a jiffy and +her plump right foot settled itself into the kid boot with a determined +thud, meaning to stay there. + +“It just fits, and I’ll take these,” she said, though the shoe was much +too large. “Two rows of buttons are prettier than one, anyway; and +won’t the Padre be proud when he sees me?” + +“I think he will,” answered the shoeman; “for I am sure he did not +expect you to buy kid boots to wear in the Rocky Mountains.” + +“Oh, yes, he did. He said get just what I wanted,” insisted Bushy +putting on the other boot. + +“All right then; shall I do them up?” + +“Do them up? What for? Can’t I have them?” Bushy’s eyes opened wide in +fear. “I am sure the Padre will pay for them; he said so.” + +“Oh, that’s not it. Don’t you want paper around them to carry them?” + +“I am not going to take them off,” she persisted, and by the time the +shoeman understood what she was going to do she had laced both boots +and was struggling with the buttons. + +“You are going to wear them?” he asked, bending to help her. + +“Wear them! Why, what would I do with them if not wear them? What a +funny man you are! I must hurry and show the Padre,” she said; “I won’t +ever wear moccasins any more--no, what do I want of them? You can throw +them away.” + +“I would rather you would do it,” said the shoeman, handing her the +neat bundle containing her leggings and moccasins which she had +discarded. She flung them down on the floor disdainfully. + +“Oh, how light I feel; it seems as if I could fly,” she murmured as she +darted like a deer up the rough street--not knowing, of course, that +kid cannot stand knocks against sharp rocks. + +The shoes made her oblivious to everything else. The people were +looking and wondering who in the world she was, but it did not take +them long to find out she was Bushy Sukolt. Many of them had heard +about her, and especially well known was the fact that she could shoot +and ride like few other little people in the world. They came out of +the stores and watched as she darted by. + +“I wonder how they look going,” thought Bushy, and she lifted her skirt +high and stooped over to watch the boots as they ran along. + +Bump she went, into a post--she lost her balance and fell over into a +deep ditch by the roadside. + +“Are you hurt?” asked a man as he climbed down and helped pull her up. + +“Oh, no, sir. I have just got a pair of new shoes, and I am going to +Padre.” On she went, this time looking back as she ran, to get the +effect of her boots. + +“Take care!” screamed a man with a pick on his shoulder, but he spoke +too late--over she tumbled into the ditch on the other side before the +old miner could catch her. + +“I’m not hurt, thank you!” she exclaimed, trying to rub the dirt off +the boots with her petticoat. “Do you know my Padre? I am going home to +show my shoes. Now, you stand there and see how quick I can get to the +tent.” + +Bushy did not know what the word stranger meant; she had seen so many +miners--new ones almost every day--and the idea of introduction had +never entered her head. She never doubted that the miner would enjoy +hearing of her shoes when he learned they were new. “They go very well, +but I wish I could see just how they look. Do you like two rows of +buttons better than one? My foot looks awful little, doesn’t it? Padre +won’t know me; now watch!” and not waiting for a reply, she started +again up the hill on the keen jump. Her arms swayed from right to left, +and she would lean this way and then that, to get a glimpse of her +shoes when they were going. Forgetting all about the miner, who smiled +and went on his way, she bounded into the tent and found it empty. +“Padre has gone out. Hello, who are you?” she cried, as a little girl +came in. + +“I am Bessie Gray, and I live up there on the hill. We are going to +play steal sticks and want you to go on our side. Can you run?” + +“I just guess I can! See my new shoes! They are dirty now, but Tom can +clean them. What is ‘steal sticks?’ Are there a lot of children in +Central City?” + +Just to the right and around the bend were eleven youngsters--six boys +and five girls. + +Bushy made the twelfth, and they were delighted to have the full number +for “steal sticks.” + +“We must stay on this side of the long line across the road and the +boys on the other, and ten feet from the line on each side we put six +sticks, and there is a circle on each side of the sticks, on each side, +called the jail. Now, what is your name?” asked the girl, turning to +Bushy. Bushy told her. Then Bessie went on explaining the game. “We +girls must try and steal all the sticks on the boys’ side, and the boys +will try to get ours. If we are touched on the other side of the line +we are put in jail, and must wait there till one of the girls can run +and touch us, but you can’t keep a stick unless you steal it, and get +across the line again without being touched by the boys. Everything +depends on how good a runner you are.” + +“Oh, my!” said Bushy, “we’ll beat the boys. I’ll bet my new shoes on +it.” + +“Huh,” said Mike Shaker, “we’ll see about that!” + +The game began and the game ended, and Bushy had stolen five out of the +six sticks that the girls had added to their six in store. + +“You beat us, did you?” cried Bushy, as she shook the whole bundle at +the boys. She stood bareheaded, with her blouse opened from her neck +to her belt; her cheeks were red as roses, and it was indeed a pretty +picture that met Mr. Sukolt’s eyes as he came around to find her. + +“We beat the boys, Padre,” she cried, running to him, and the eleven +crowded about, to say she was the best runner they ever saw. + +“Oh, I can run so fast in shoes--in shoes,” she stammered, catching +sight of her shoes for the first time since she began the game--they +were in rags! The tender kid was cut so that the sole clung to the tops +only by narrow strips. + +“My shoes! my shoes! Oh, Padre, what has happened to them?” She dropped +her sticks and burst into tears. “They looked so grand coming up the +hill. Oh, Padre, they were such beauties. What will I do?” + +“Better put on the moccasins and we will try again,” said Mr. Sukolt, +finding it difficult to suppress a smile in spite of his little girl’s +distress. + +“I left them in the store and I’ll have to go barefooted,” she cried. +Mike slipped out and soon brought the missing bundle, and by invitation +of Mr. Sukolt the whole team of “steal sticks” went to the tent, where +the children remained an hour to console Bushy on the disaster that had +befallen her first pair of shoes. + +“Never mind, Bushy,” said Mike, “you are the champion ‘steal sticks’ +runner, and to-morrow we’ll give you a party for beating us so.” + +“How much am I to pay for Bushy’s ‘steal sticks’ shoes?” asked Mr. +Sukolt of the shoeman that night, after Bushy had gone to sleep. + +“I could not prevent her taking the boots,” he said; “she simply bossed +us here. I never enjoyed anything in my life like watching her efforts +to see how they looked while she was running. It is a marvel she did +not break her neck when she rolled into the ditch.” + +“How much?” asked Mr. Sukolt, again. + +“Just $4.50 they cost me, but not a cent will I take,” answered the +shoeman. + +Mr. Sukolt then ordered a strong pair of calfskin shoes to take their +place. + +Not so very long ago Bushy was in Denver, and met the shoeman, who is +now a great politician. Mr. Richards had been Congressman and a lot of +other things, but he had not forgotten Bushy’s first pair of shoes, and +asked her if she was still the champion “steal sticks” runner. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX + + +“This is the school-house,” said Mr. Sukolt, as he and Bushy neared a +low, long building situated in the thickest part of Central City. “It +has been opened only a little while, but one of the smartest men in +the country is the teacher, and I would like you to attend and learn +something, like other little girls. We will see how you and school get +along.” + +Mollie, Mike, and Jake, of the “steal sticks” team, came up, and +escorted Bushy into the school-house. There we will leave her and call +at Mr. Sukolt’s tent in the evening to hear Bushy talk to her father +and Tom and Shanks of her day’s experience. It is more interesting to +listen to Bushy telling it in her own way, than to follow her all day +long through the school-hours. + +“Well, what have you learned?” asked Mr. Sukolt, as Bushy came bounding +into the tent at twenty minutes after four o’clock. She threw her +sombrero in one corner of the tent, her slate on the table, and before +her father could expect a reply she was turning somersault after +somersault from the door toward him, landing on her feet right under +his nose. Clasping her arms about him, she cried: “I can’t help it, +Padre, I am too full of joy; I had to find vent in a little exercise +different from what they gave in school--just for relief, you know.” +With a quick movement she unclasped her arms and reached for the guitar +and, playing it herself, danced at the same time a Spanish fandango, +until at last she dropped on the buffalo robe at her father’s feet and +laughed. The little birds stopped their singing on the trees outside +to listen. “There, I am run down enough now to talk!” she said. “But +crickets and grasshoppers! wasn’t I buzzing? Why, Padre, I have felt +the springs getting tighter and tighter every minute since you left +me. Oh, Rover, old fellow,” she continued, grabbing the dog by his +shaggy coat and dragging him down on the robe beside her, “you must go +to school and learn something; we are great greenies--you and Jip and +Bushy.” + +“Well, I am glad you stop to take breath and give me a chance to ask +what it all means,” remarked Mr. Sukolt, while Bushy was hugging Rover. +“I must confess you are more giddy than ever; school has had a queer +effect on you.” + +Tom came in with provisions for supper, and while he got the meal, +and Shanks mended the surcingle of his saddle, Mr. Sukolt put aside +his figuring, and they all listened to Bushy, who talked fast and +excitedly. + +“I am not going any more,” was her astounding remark to begin with. + +Tom stopped peeling potatoes, Shanks almost fell off his chair in +astonishment, and Mr. Sukolt looked seriously at his wild little girl. + +“It’s all right, Padre; I have learned all I can manage for a year.” + +She pinched Rover’s ears till he howled, and then she began and talked +so fast, Tom said it made him drunk. + +“‘If you are a gentleman, you will remove your hat when you enter a +house,’ said a little man just as we got inside the door,” began Bushy. +“I thought my sombrero was the thing meant, and whipped it off my head. +Then a lot of boys and girls giggled and acted so funny. ‘Oh, it’s +a boy,’ said a skinny chap with a prairie-dog mouth and eyes like a +ground-squirrel.” + +“I did not like him and I told him so. Then the teacher--the little +man--came from behind a table and said: ‘You must be Bushy Sukolt. This +is Bushy Sukolt, children.’” + +“Everybody grinned at me, and they made me think of a lot of +little owls--you know the kind that live with the prairie-dogs and +rattlesnakes. They all nodded their heads just like the owls do when I +call ‘How-de-do.’” + +“‘What a funny dress,’ said a mean little girl. ‘If you attend to your +own dress you will have quite enough to do,’ said the teacher, ‘and, +besides, I wish you to remember that personal remarks about anybody’s +dress or manners are forbidden in this school.’” + +“I felt sorry for the little girl, and told her I didn’t mind one bit. +And when she began to cry I said I was the best shot around, and if she +would come over to the tent I would teach her to shoot with the bow and +arrow.” + +“‘Bushy Sukolt, we do not allow loud talking in school,’ growled the +little teacher, ‘and it would be better for you if you would not boast +of your superior knowledge. If you are smart in anything your friends +will find it out without your blowing your own horn.’” + +“Oh, Padre, I felt littler than a minute, and here is what the teacher +said. I have written it down on the slate as one of the things I am to +remember forever.” + +Bushy got up and handed the slate to her father. It was covered with +writing beginning with lesson No. 1 and running along with things she +had jotted down, until both sides were completely covered. + +“You see, Padre, when the tall boy in the corner squinted at me, and +told Jake that I was his ‘girl’ I heard it and forgot there was a +little man teacher. I went over and shook the tall boy till his teeth +jingled, and when he tried to slap me I boxed him on both sides of his +face, and was going to tell him what I thought of him; when the little +man teacher marched me off to a stool in a corner of the room, and put +a pretty paper cap on my head, and said I could sit there for awhile. +I got my slate and learned just the same. Now, see this number”--she +put her finger on No. 3--“I put down when the teacher told Mike to +stop picking his teeth. ‘You must make your toilet before leaving your +home,’ he said, ‘and cut your finger-nails, too!’ Jimminy! I asked if I +could come home to cut mine, but the teacher said for me to wait till +to-morrow.” + +Bushy’s finger followed each number on the slate, and she told each +story that had caused her to jot down a memorandum. + +“Just behind me sat a wee bit of a girl in a pink dress, like the +one Rover spoiled for me. She had such a tiny mouth it looked like +a catfish mouth. I couldn’t look at her without wondering what she +would do if a fish-hook caught her. The teacher told me to study, and +she made a face at me. Big-mouthed Tom I like better than any of the +children, but blue-nosed Lucy was good, too. She took me on her side at +recess, and when we played ‘pull-away’ we won, of course. Recess was +a few minutes for us to go about in and stretch our legs and try our +voices. + +“It was twenty minutes long, so big-mouthed Tom took me into the +bowling-alley back of the school-room and we watched the men bowl. They +didn’t play any great game. The teacher doesn’t allow the scholars to +play in the bowling-alley. I can’t see why. + +“A little girl named Libbie got in a swing and a bad boy tried to push +her out. I tripped him, and he told the teacher on me, so I had to sit +on the funny stool again after recess. It was a nice place. I could see +everything that was going on all the time. They called it the dunce-cap +that I wore. I didn’t mind it. It was red and pretty. + +“Libbie stuck her gum on the side of her desk, and when she was reading +for the teacher the big boy hooked it. He winked at me and whispered, +‘I am going to keep it.’ That was very mean, I thought, and forgot I +was to sit on the stool. I walked over and took it away from him. + +“The teacher said he would punish me if I moved again. + +“Billy Sholtz had the nose-bleed, and his face got awful white. He kept +blowing his nose all the time. Now, Shanks, you know that makes it +bleed worse. I told the teacher so, but he paid no attention to me. + +“It bled and bled and bled until poor Billy got frightened and white, +and began to cry. The teacher sent after the doctor, but he was in +Eureka Gulch. I couldn’t stand it any longer. I left the stool and ran +to him and held his nose tight between my thumb and finger. + +“He began to caper about the room, and I kept saying, ‘I can stop it +if you will just hold still.’ He ran away to the other side and fought +me, but I clung to his nose, and by the time he fell down, tired out, I +knew the blood had had time to clot, and sure enough it bled no more. +Then, of course, the teacher put cold water on the back of his neck, +and made him sniff it up his nose till he was well. When I went back +to the stool the teacher looked sorry, and all the children laughed +because I held Billy’s nose. + +“A girl who chewed gum in school divided with me, and we chewed all +day. The teacher made us both march up and chew for the school. I +didn’t see any great fun in that, but the other children did. + +“I almost died when we had to sit ten minutes with our hands folded. +Oh! oh! it is dreadful to stay all day in school.” + +“But what did you learn?” asked Tom, as he put the kettle of water on +and dropped the potatoes in one by one. + +“Learn? Why, look on my slate. I have got enough to keep me going for +a year. I tell you, Tom, I’d have fits if I had to remember any more +until I get this all perfect.” + +She pushed Rover away with one foot, reached for her slate and read +aloud, so they all might know what she had considered her lesson for +the day. + +“Take off your hat when you go into a house--if you are a boy. + +“Don’t talk about anybody’s clothes before them. + +“Don’t play smart and tell what you can do; let people find it out. + +“Don’t fight a boy bigger than yourself, if there is a dunce-stool and +a dunce-cap in the room. You will have to sit on it all day. + +“I must not pick my teeth or cut my finger-nails when away from the +tent. + +“Children with little mouths are not so good as boys with big ones. + +“Blue-nosed people are not so hard to get along with as red-nosed ones. + +“Children must not play in the bowling-alley; it is not nice. + +“It is all right to disobey the teacher if a boy gets the nose-bleed. + +“I had better not go to school unless I can run home and turn +somersaults at recess. It makes me fidgety to sit still all day.” + +“That will do,” called her father, as he joined Tom and Shanks in a +loud laugh; “come, let’s eat supper. I have an idea you were not a +promising pupil--no doubt you were naughty; I shall have to see the +teacher.” + +“I just ran over,” interrupted a voice at the tent door, “to see----” + +“Oh, Gee! It is the little teacher,” said Bushy, softly to Rover, and +she lifted the edge of the tent and dragged the buffalo robe and Rover +both out on the other side, and there, in the soft light that fills the +mountains just after the sun goes down, she stretched herself to listen. + +She was in great dread that her father would make her go to school +again. “We will run off, Rover, sure as we live, if the Padre sends us +to read a poky book, and get the fidgets by sitting on one chair all +day.” Bushy listened. + +“Ah, what is the little teacher saying? He won’t get us there again.” +She rolled up close to the flapping tent and lay still, but her heart +beat very loud, so loud she could not catch a word. This is what the +teacher was saying: + +“It was quickly done, Mr. Sukolt. It was little Mary, the pet of the +school. She had been out where some boys were burning brush, and her +calico skirt caught fire. Of course, she was frightened ’most to death, +and set up such a screaming and crying that the other children were +panic-stricken and fled for the school-room. + +“Your little girl was on the dunce-stool. It was just at the beginning +of the recess, and I had told her to sit still until she got permission +to get up. From the window she saw the child with the burning dress. +Before I knew what had happened, Bushy had thrown her slate on the +floor, and grabbed a coat belonging to one of the big boys that hung on +a nail near the window. She did not stop to go through the door, but +jumped out of the window, eight feet to the ground. Like a cat, she +fell feet-first. Little Mary was by this time running up the path to +the bowling-alley door. Bushy headed her off and threw her down on the +ground, rolled her in the coat, holding her face near the ground, so +the flames, which were rising, might not get into her mouth and nose. +She left Mary’s head out and threw herself across the body, tucking in +her own skirt about Mary’s neck. Then, working from the neck down, she +wrapped the coat tight and snug about the body. + +“By the time we got to the spot little Mary was on her feet and +laughing--the child was too small to realize her danger, and, hence, +received no shock, for which I am thankful. Bushy and the older +children knew what a risk the little one had run, and when I examined +her and found only two small burns on her fat legs, my relief was +intense. The children were soon playing ‘pull-away,’ and Bushy, I +noticed, was one of the leaders in the game. I suppose she is all +right, but I thought I would rest easier,” added the teacher, “if you +assured me the child received no burns and is perfectly well. I fully +realize that little Mary’s life was saved by your daughter’s prompt +action. Had she run five minutes in the stiff breeze, nothing could +have saved her from being burnt to death.” + +The three men looked about for Bushy. “She may be burnt badly,” said +Shanks, and he started around the tent. “She is a trump,” said Tom, and +he forgot his potatoes and went hunting around the other side of the +tent. Mr. Sukolt lifted the flapping edge and was at Bushy’s side by +the time the two men were there. She was asleep, with her head resting +on Rover. + +She still clung to the slate that held the memoranda of what she had +learned the first day at school. The teacher leaned over her and read +the last line which Bushy had forgotten. It was this: “Little girls +must not play near fire when they wear calico dresses. They may get +burnt up. Everybody ought to wear a gunnysack one, like the kind Tom +makes for me.” + +“Although Bushy has spent the day on the dunce-stool,” said the teacher +to Mr. Sukolt, “if most of my children were half as observing as this +slate proves your Bushy was to-day, I would indeed be proud of them as +pupils.” + + + + +CHAPTER XXX + + +“Would you be very unhappy, do you think, Bushy, if I were to leave you +here to attend the school for six months?” asked Mr. Sukolt early the +next morning, after Bushy had tried her one day on the dunce-stool. + +“Oh, Padre!” cried Bushy, as she stopped washing dishes, and, with her +hands still wet, stepped out of the tent to talk with her father, who +was on his horse ready to ride off for the day. “I will stay if you +really want me to, but--” her lip trembled and two big tears trickled +down her brown cheeks--“I think I would die, away from you.” She leaned +against the horse and tried to stifle the sobs that would come up to +choke her. + +Mr. Sukolt was serious, and his face looked troubled and sad. “It is +very hard to tell what to do,” he murmured, half to himself. “I must +not allow you to grow up in ignorance; and still, little girl, I feel +something like you--that is, I would die, away from my daughter; away +from my tomboy, my little wild girl.” + +He reached over and patted her head. “Come, tell me what you think we +ought to do.” + +Bushy’s face brightened. She had thought and thought about it during +the night. Not for a minute did she intend to disobey or be naughty; +still she had formed a plan, and now was her time to make it known. + +“Padre, you know a lot--Tom told me so--and why can’t I get some books +and take them along with us into the mines? You can teach me, can’t +you? I will study harder than I would if in school. I’ll promise to get +every lesson you give me. Shanks can hear me if you are not home. Don’t +you think I would study, Padre?” she questioned, not understanding the +expression of her father’s face. + +“If you promise, I think you would,” he said. “I am sure you wouldn’t +mean to break your word; but there is the association with children. +I think you ought to have some of them about you, instead of always +serious old men, like Tom and Shanks and----” + +“And the best man in the world!” cried Bushy, leaping behind her father +on the horse. + +“I don’t know what to make of children. They are always in trouble, +and some way I feel it my fault. Their legs and arms are so little I’m +frightened all the time. I’m sure they are going to get hurt. I’ll go +down to the school and buy some books, like Mike’s, and ask the ‘little +teacher’ how to do, and, then when you come home, I’ll be all ready to +start in with you and Shanks as my teachers. Oh, I am so happy! Do you +know, Padre, I love you more than school or anything in the----” + +“There, go back to your dish-washing. Who ever heard of a little girl +making love to her father like that? Skip out, you fly-a-way! and see +that you have everything all ready to pack. Much depends on my business +trip to-day. We may start away by four in the morning to catch the +wagon-train that is in camp ten miles north of here.” Bushy waved the +dish-cloth at him. He cracked his whip and was soon out of sight. + +“Rover, come here!” called Bushy, “and listen to what I say. We are +going down to the school very early to buy some books and then we will +take a run. I will ride Jip and you can keep up if your legs don’t +give out.” Rover wagged his tail and barked disdainfully at the mere +suggestion that he would give out in any one day’s run, even if he was +growing old and stiff. + +The dishes were washed and Bushy put on her great, wide hat, one that +used to be Tom’s. “Now for a race,” she said. Rover understood, and +away they scampered, raising a great dust in the wide path that led +down the gulch into Central City. + +“Good-morning, Mr. Teacher,” said Bushy as she bounded into the +school-room at eight o’clock and landed in front of the funny desk, +behind which the little man sat writing. + +“I thought you were not coming to school any more,” he said. + +“Oh, my father sent me here to ask if you will please tell me what +books to get, for I am going to study with Shanks and the Padre so I +won’t have to be left all alone in the big city. I will go with them +and learn, too.” + +The teacher told her to take a seat and wait until recess and he would +go to the store with her and help her get a good slate, some soft +pencils, and the books she needed. + +Bushy was delighted, and she sat down to await the children. Children +were a great curiosity to her. One must not forget that it was a new +thing for her to see little girls and boys. She had never played with +children, and had always talked as grown people do, because she had +never heard anything else. + +“I’m awfully fwaid,” lisped a wee child of five, as she hurried into +the school-room and sat down close beside Bushy. “Big Snooks and Bully +Boy are coming here to hurt the teacher. Bully Boy is my big bruvver, +and Snooks is such a bad boy! The teacher won’t let them tum to school, +and dey is goin’ to sew him up in a sheet. I’s so fwaid!” Margarette, +for that was the little one’s name, hid her face in Bushy’s lap and +began to cry. + +“What is the matter with her, Bushy?” asked the teacher, leaning way +round his high desk to look at the child he heard crying. + +“Oh, don’t tell him! Bully Boy will whip me if you do.” She clutched +Bushy nervously with both hands, and shook with fright. The teacher was +busy and did not notice that he got no answer, but bent closer to his +desk, and the pen went scratch, scratch, scratch over the paper before +him. + +Bushy was trying to think what to do, when Margarette drew closer to +her and whispered, “Dey is comin’, see?” She pointed with her trembling +finger out of the window, and immediately two boys with evil faces +looked in. + +“I wanted to tell,” whimpered little Margarette, “but I’s so fwaid of +Bully Boy; he licks me so hard every time.” Her lips trembled, and she +silently petted a black and blue spot that disfigured her fat baby arm. + +“Sew teacher up in a sheet?” thought Bushy. “I wonder what that means? +Maybe it is a game of some kind.” + +The little teacher behind his high desk was quite out of sight, and +the two boys slipped softly up the aisle. There was no one in the +school-room but Bushy and Margarette. What big boy would think of +being on his guard against two girls--one a mere baby and the other a +new scholar! + +Bushy’s heart gave a leap and she drew her breath hard and quick. +Neither of the boys had seen her before. Big Snooks was raw-boned, +tall, and slouchy-looking; his mouth turned down at the corners, and +his eyes were small and kept ever on the move like a monkey’s. Bully +Boy was half intoxicated. He had drunk enough whiskey to make him ugly +tempered, and his face, which at other times was good-natured and +gentle, was screwed up into queer grimaces and wrinkles that made him +look extremely wicked. He carried a sheet and Snooks had a lot of short +rope and string. + +Softly and silently they advanced, being careful to keep their heads +bowed, so the teacher could not see them. They had taken their shoes +off outside, and, catlike, moved on to catch their prey. + +Bully turned and shook his fist at Margarette and Bushy, as much as to +say he would smash their noses if they made a noise. + +It was fully half an hour before school-time, and the boys had planned +to have the teacher tied up and stood in the corner for inspection +when the children marched in. The bowling-alley did not open until ten +o’clock, so there would be no men to hear if the teacher cried out. + +Before Bushy could collect her thoughts, Bully Boy had caught the +teacher from one side and Snooks from the other. They tried to pin +him down and throw him full length on the platform, but he struggled +fiercely. They all staggered off the platform into the middle of the +floor, quite close to where Bushy and Margarette sat. + +“Ah, I understand,” said Bushy at last, and quickly she carried +Margarette to the door and pushed her out, saying, “Run home as fast +as your legs will carry you; you’ll get hurt here!” She looked up and +down the street, but not a soul was in sight. The boys knew well when +to make the attack. Every miner had long ago gone to work, and the +grocery store was a long way off, and nobody happened to be out when +Bushy looked for help. A great thud shook the frame-house and Bushy +knew some one of the three had fallen to the floor. She hastened back, +and, sure enough, it was the teacher, and his head had struck on the +corner of the platform, stunning him. He lay perfectly still and the +boys hastened to tie his hands and wrap the sheet about him. + +Now, Bushy knew how to wrestle, and her quick eye had detected that +the boys were stupid blunderers, only succeeding in overpowering the +teacher because he was taken unawares. + +“I’ll tackle the two of ’em,” she soliloquized. Many and many a time +she had wrestled with Shanks and Tom and her father. She had grown to +be very skilful in the exercise, and even in boxing and fencing her +lessons had been quite thorough. Her father had always blended the +useful with everything that was taught her. One day he had said: “If +ever the need of throwing your opponent comes into your real life, be +sure and use all the knowledge you have on the subject of wrestling, +and win.” All this now came to Bushy, and she eyed the two boys for a +second, and in the next, both of the strapping fellows lay sprawling +on the floor. While they were scrambling to their feet and looking +about to see what had happened, Bushy stooped for the rope, and another +movement sent them again full length on the floor. She took the nearest +boy and attempted to tie his two hands. He resented, and she sat upon +him, giving him at the same time a blow with the flat of her hand that +dazed him. Bushy knew how to tie a good knot, and before he could +collect his senses he was secured to the leg of one of the desks. +Snooks was on his feet by this time, and realized that only a girl was +making the great commotion. + +He roared at her like a lion, and struck out with his big fist, missing +her, of course, for she ducked under, and at the same time brought the +great overgrown body down again very hard on the floor. + +The teacher now tried to free himself and called aloud for help, not +knowing what was going on, because the sheet was over his face. + +“You are all right, Mr. Teacher,” screamed Bushy. Then, turning her +attention to the big boy, said: “You had better give in or I will +finish you.” Snooks was kicking and yelling now with fright. He lost +all courage when Bully could no longer help him, and, though he knew +if he got loose he could whip a dozen little girls, he was anxious to +get out and hide. So he doubled himself up, and using all his strength, +freed his arms and legs and made a dive for the doorway. Bushy was +prepared for that, and had given him warning once that he had better +“give in.” She cut him off just as he got on the step, and while he was +trying to strike her she used her right foot in throwing him on his +back. He received a hard slap in the face, too, and the next thing he +remembered was the cord cutting into the flesh of his wrists. He was +tied to another desk, and, as the desks were nailed fast to the floor, +the boys could not possibly get away. Bushy left them and went to +unwrap the teacher, who was calling wildly for help. + +Little Margarette in her fright had run up the street, screaming at the +top of her voice. From her broken sentences the owner of the grocery +store gathered enough to understand that there was trouble in the +school-house. Some children seeing him run, chased after him, and as a +result, by the time Bushy had the teacher sitting up, the school-room +was crowded with people--men, women, and children. The scene needed no +explanation. Two men took charge of the bad boys and marched them off +to the cabin used as a kind of jail, where they were kept two weeks as +a punishment. The teacher, as soon as liberated, bathed his head, and +said he was ready to continue school. + +He stroked Bushy’s fluffy hair and looked at her in wonderment, as did +everybody else. But Bushy hurried back to the tent, and, saddling Jip, +went off on a wild ride to stop her heart beating so queerly. + +“Oh, Padre, do let us go away from the big city; it is a dreadful +place,” she said to her father that night when he returned to camp. +Central City was talking of nothing but Bushy Sukolt, and almost +everybody called at the tent and wanted to see her. She did not quite +understand why they should make such a fuss. What else could she have +done? + +“It was not because I was brave, as they say,” she explained to Tom, +later. “I had to do it, because there was nobody else around, and I +feared they were going to kill the little teacher. I just had to do it; +but oh! Tom, old fellow, can’t you hurry the Padre away? I don’t like +the city; let us all go back to Great Pine Mine, where everything is +so still and lovely, and the birds sing and the squirrels whisk about. +Let us go where things are not in such a flutter,” and much to her joy +they did leave the place, starting the next morning at four o’clock. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXI + + +“I think I ought to take him up; don’t you think so, Tom?” + +“I declare, Bushy, I have not heard a word the old fellow has said,” +answered Tom, with a start. “I was ’way back in Iowa in my mind, you +know, having a good time at the foundry again.” + +“Then listen to him now; do, Tom, because I am going to take the bet.” + +This positive statement, accompanied with several wise nods of Bushy’s +head, awakened Tom thoroughly from his dream of being in Iowa. He +looked about him to realize again with a sigh that he was only one of +many men on a prospecting tour for gold, hoping every day to “strike it +rich and go home.” + +The sun was setting behind the mountains, and the round red ball sent +its good-night glances through the great high peaks on to the camp, +making the decline of day gorgeous by tingeing the clouds above them a +deep red and gold. The miners had stopped here for the night because +there was good grass for the horses and a spring of water not far +distant. Mr. Sukolt, Shanks, and the wagon-master had ridden on to a +place two miles ahead where mail was delivered once a week. There was +only Tom in the camp who possessed the least bit of control over Bushy, +and he felt sometimes unable to cope with her when she got her head +set on doing anything. She needed a lesson, for she was without doubt +growing too wilful, and this day she got a good one. + +“What is it all about, boys?” called out Tom to the crowd that sat +cross-legged around the blazing pine-log camp-fire. Tom was sitting +on a feed-box, leaning back against the wagon tongue, smoking a huge +clay pipe. Bushy had found a comfortable seat in a big pile of harness +close to Tom, and there, half lying, she rested her chin on the palms +of both hands, and listened to the miners as they talked and told +stories. Rover had snuggled as close as possible to Bushy, and Jip ate +his dinner from the feed-box on one end of which Tom sat. Everybody was +waiting for the three men to return before they would sit down to the +evening meal. A savory side of bacon simmered on a stick close to the +fire; a pot of potatoes with their jackets on, steamed on the other +side; a Dutch oven, which is something like a skillet with an iron +cover, was still hidden from sight by red-hot coals that had been piled +over it, to bake the choice biscuits that were to prove a great treat +for the men that night. + +“Why, I was saying,” spoke up a tall, raw-boned miner, “that my mustang +might as well be killed, because she is so beastly wicked that none of +us is willing to ride her. We know she bucks like all get out. Several +times we have saddled her, but gone no farther. I will bet the first +good strike that I make, that nobody can stick on her as far as from +here to the creek yonder!” + +“And I’ll bet the first good strike that I make that I can ride her +even farther,” sang out Bushy, in a clear, loud voice that brought the +men to their feet in admiration. + +“Heigh-ho! What do I hear?” cried the old miner. “A challenge from a +midget of a youngster like you! I’d take your bet but for the danger +attached to the carrying of it out. You might get hurt, and then I’d +mourn the rest of the days of my life--sure I would!” The old miner +hitched his blue overalls high up on one hip, then on the other; +tightened his revolver-belt and fidgeted about, feeling annoyed as well +as amused over having his bet taken up by a mere child. + +The miners crowded about Bushy; Rover was excited, and Jip neighed +uneasily, but Bushy only laughed and said: + +“I won’t get hurt if I look out, and I do want the first claim you +find. I know you will make a great strike, and to think how rich I can +become just by riding a wild mustang several hundred yards! I’m not +afraid, for I have broken a lot of ’em, haven’t I, Tom?” + +Tom looked worried, and said he wished Bushy would stop talking so +foolishly, because it always made him ill to see her on any horse that +was not perfectly gentle. + +“But I’m not fooling. I’m in earnest, and I’m going to ride her.” She +got up and walked toward the mare, followed by the men--some anxious +and others jubilant. + +“I’ll not give my consent to it, Bushy, and I ask you to wait till the +Padre comes back. We don’t want to hand over to him a little dead girl, +or a little girl with a broken leg or a broken neck, either.” + +“Now, Tom, dear old fellow, you know I can ride. You are always so +squeamish! It makes no difference what I do, you never think it is +right. I’m going to win the bet.” Then she leaned over and whispered in +Tom’s ear: “I heard Shanks tell Padre last night that this man, Daddy +Bob, was the luckiest and most skilful miner in the camp, and he never +failed to find the richest veins of ore whenever he went with a band to +any new field. Now, he gives his first rich strike if I can ride the +mare. Why, Tom, you wouldn’t be so silly as not to want me to take the +bet, would you, when you know I can win it as easy as rolling off a +log?” + +Tom still protested, but Bushy ordered the saddle put on, and a great +time the men had in doing it. One old fellow, who simply looked on as +he puffed away at his pipe, said if the wagon-master was there no such +doings would go on. + +“The child will get killed,” he repeated over and over, but no one paid +any attention to him. Tom got out his horse and saddled it, to be on +hand to follow the bucking mustang. If she acted dreadfully, and Bushy +should be in danger of being thrown, he must be near to lift her on to +his horse. There is always danger in getting near a bucking animal, yet +Tom was going to be prepared to aid the headstrong child in case she +did need his help. That was all he could do, for he could not make her +let the animal alone. + +Most everybody has seen the bucking ponies in the Wild West Show. This +unbroken animal acted in the same manner. She shivered when the saddle +first touched her; then she squatted and jumped sideways, leaving the +saddle on the ground where her feet had been pawing the soft earth. +Again and again she played the men the same trick. It was given up as a +bad job, but Bushy asked them to try once more. The surcingle this time +was caught and tightened before the lunge was made that had hitherto +sent the saddle flying to the ground. Quickly the pony was girted and +the straps buckled, so there was, after that, no danger of the saddle +coming off. + +The mustang was blindfolded and kept so until Bushy was ready to mount. + +“Now, ready!” cried the men who held the rope bridle, and Bushy was +lifted lightly to the animal’s back. Clinching her legs tight to the +mare’s sides, she settled herself for the stiff-legged jump that is +generally the first effort a horse makes to get the rider off. The +blind was slipped off. The horse shivered, sunk down until her back +swayed like a hammock, then bringing her four feet together she humped +preparatory to the jump. Bushy was ready, and with a stinging whip, or +quirt as they called the small rawhide out there, she lashed the mare’s +sides with all her might. The pony was not prepared for such treatment, +and though she did jump, it was not such a terrible stiff-legged bound +as she would have made had she not flinched under the whip-lash. She +then started on the dead run. The camp was in a valley between two high +mountains, with a pretty good road extending for fully three-quarters +of a mile up grade. Bushy remembered this, and determined that since +the pony would run, she should not stop until tired out. Bushy applied +the whip with all the might that lay in her tough, brown arm. Tom +followed, for he was on a good horse and it was an easy matter to keep +right behind the infuriated mustang. + +“Can you stick on?” he yelled. Bushy said nothing, only whipped the +harder. + +“I guess you have taken the right course, Bushy,” he again screamed, +but Bushy did not hear; she kept her seat with difficulty, for the +mustang would shy from one side of the road to the other, so quickly +that often Tom stretched out his arm to try and save Bushy, supposing +she was going off sure. On they sped, leaving the miners far behind; +finally nothing could be seen but the stately mountains on both sides +and the rocky road ahead. + +“Free yourself from the stirrups,” called Tom. “The little beast may +stumble, and look out not to fall under her.” + +There was no time to scold, though Tom regretted that he had not taken +Bushy by force and shut her up in one of the wagons until her father +should arrive. + +“Can you stick it out till she gets tired, do you think?” asked Tom +when he got near again. + +“Oh, yes, I can stay on if she just runs,” answered Bushy with +difficulty, because the wild runaway was trying to slacken her +speed, and Bushy, in her determination that she should not have an +opportunity to get her feet together to buck, kept plying the whip. +“Help me whip her, can’t you?” + +They had run a mile, mostly up hill at that, but Tom saw the science +in her treatment and whipped from behind, and the poor pony started on +with greater speed--up and down, up and down--stumbling now, once in a +while. + +“I think you can let up now, Bushy,” advised Tom, but Bushy foolishly +wanted to make the mustang run till she couldn’t go any farther; she +knew that White Face, as the mare was called, would be gentle as a +lamb ever afterward if she could get her thoroughly tired out. Bushy +had taken her feet out of the stirrups--she rode astride, of course, +for it would have been sure failure to attempt to ride a bucking horse +otherwise--and thinking the pony needed just one more good whipping +began again to use the quirt. White Face, suddenly rebelled and turned +off into a deer path that led from the main road. The rope bridle was +no use to her, for the pony did not know what it meant, and Bushy now +realized that she was in great danger of being dashed against the +tree-trunks or dragged off by the low limbs. Before she had time to +jump, or even prepare to jump, she saw ahead of them a sudden drop in +the path. It was like a deep ditch or gorge. Bushy understood in a +second that her only hope was in the horse leaping safely over. If she +tried to stop her they would both roll bodily into it, and that would +undoubtedly mean death. Quick in her instinct, she determined to try +the leap, and lash after lash fell on the fat side of White Face, the +rawhide cutting into her flesh now as if applied with a man’s strong +arm instead of a little girl’s. + +“I am in for it!” she murmured, and shut her eyes as she felt the horse +nerve herself for the spring and got a glimpse of the black strip right +under them. In much less time than it takes to tell it, Tom understood +the situation. He brought his horse to a halt, shaded his eyes, and +listened for the awful scream and thud he thought must follow such a +leap. There came the thud, but no scream. Tom looked up, and, pushing +his horse to the very edge, saw that Bushy lay in a heap ten feet +beyond, while White Face, who had safely covered the break, sank on +her knees and then with a groan fell over on her side, almost rolling +over the edge into the water below. Tom sat like one stupefied, his +face white as death. Not a word escaped him, but his eyes were riveted +on the little bunch of buckskin clothes that now passed for Bushy. In +a minute it straightened out, and Bushy staggered to her feet. After +pushing back her hair from her eyes she looked about and saw Tom still +and motionless. + +“Oh, I am not hurt one bit,” she called, “but I was tangled up awfully! +I fell on my shoulders and feet, and for a long time, Tom, I could not +tell how to stand up. Can you come over?” + +Tom reached her by going by the roadway, which had a bridge lower down +across this very opening. Together they got the horse on her feet, and +found that she was not hurt, only wearied out and shaking with fear. +Plucky Bushy led her back to the road and insisted on mounting her +again. Tom made no objection, because he well knew that White Face +could not make her tired legs go fast again for some time. + +“Are you certain that you are not hurt?” asked Tom, anxiously. + +“There is a funny pain in my neck,” answered Bushy, as she twisted +about, trying to determine what was the matter; “but it’s not an awful +pain, so I guess I got off easy; and my foot aches a little, too. I +fell so in a lump--just like a ball, wasn’t I, Tom?” + +They both laughed, and Bushy rode proudly into camp a half hour later +to tell the tale to the men. + +“Well, you have won the bet, and I’ll keep my word; I wager my head I +will!” said the old miner as he lifted Bushy off the drooping horse. + +“If it is a million dollars will you stick to it?” asked Bushy as she +limped to a camp-stool and tried to look brave--her foot was paining +her dreadfully. + +“I solemnly promise, do you hear, boys!” he called, and then Mr. +Sukolt, Shanks, and the wagon-master rode up and dismounted. It did +not take Shanks long to see that Bushy was hurt. He took her into the +tent and there was much mourning over the supper that night, when +Shanks came out to tell them that Bushy had cracked her collar-bone and +cut her foot so on a sharp stone that she would not be able to ride +horseback or walk for several days. + +“It serves me right,” said Bushy when her father looked at her +reproachfully. “I should have minded Tom. I am learning, Padre, that +every time I do foolish things I get punished.” + +Although Bushy took the whole blame on herself, every man in camp +who had seen her mount the bucking mare felt in his heart that he, +particularly, was the cause of the whole thing; yet nobody felt quite +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!” + +Bushy did not know what this meant until it was explained that old Bob +had struck a rich vein of gold-bearing quartz that very afternoon. The +news had travelled like wildfire, and even Mrs. Hogan had gone to see +the find. That is how it happened that the children and the drunken man +had been left alone in camp. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIII + + +“Good-morning,” said Miner Bob to Bushy, as she opened the cabin door +the next day. “I’ve been waiting here since six o’clock for you to wake +up. You see, I want to take you along with me to look at the new find.” + +“Why didn’t somebody wake me up? Where is Padre? Where are the men +folks? Why, I never slept so late before in my life!” Bushy rubbed her +eyes hard, for she was yet very sleepy and could scarcely see old Bob, +though he sat on the step, right at her feet. + +“Shanks said you were ’most played out lariating Delaney, and gave +orders for nobody to disturb you till you came out on your own account.” + +“Shanks is always afraid something will happen to me,” said Bushy as +she dipped her head in a great tin basin of spring water. + +Bob leaned back against the logs and laughed till he showed all his +yellow teeth--teeth so much like Rover’s that Bushy could not help +noting the resemblance. He took out of his pocket a plug of tobacco, +and cutting off a square piece, tucked it in his left cheek before +answering her. + +“How long have they been gone?” asked Bushy, as she warmed up the +breakfast that had been left her, and Bob busied himself fixing the +fire and keeping it burning. + +“About half an hour.” + +“And you waited for me?” + +“Yes, because I wanted to show you the gold myself. Why, Bushy, it is +a clear white quartz, and I dug down three feet and the prospects are +fine; there is a great fortune! Just what I have been looking for these +twenty years.” + +In the beginning of the conversation Bushy’s eyes danced and she ate so +fast the potatoes almost choked her. Bob was going to give it all to +her. How rich she would be! “The first thing I’ll buy,” she thought, +“will be a wig for dear old Tom.” + +But when the old man said: “It is just what I have been looking for +these twenty years,” Bushy detected a sad tone in his voice that +startled her. “Perhaps he is sorry he made the bet; maybe he wants to +back out?” + +“Don’t you make a lot of good strikes, Bob? Tom said you were one of +the best experts he knew, ’cause you always got ahead of everybody +else.” + +“Oh, I’ve had many good finds, but none like this one. Just come along, +Bushy, let us hurry; I’m anxious to hand it over and get it off my +mind.” + +They started out, Rover following close at their heels. Mollie Delaney +met them at the door. She had come over to carry a message from Johnny, +who could not go to sleep until someone would tell him Bushy did not +get hurt and was “good as ever” when she woke up in the morning. + +“You tell him,” said Bushy, “that I will come in and see him after +I visit the mine that Bob has given me for winning the bet on the +broncho. I’ll bring him a specimen with free gold in it. How is your +father?” + +“Oh! he is being watched by his partner, Bill Sattler, so we are not +afraid any more. Bill says Dad may have the delirium tremens next time +he takes whiskey. He is in bed now, and Bill is making him take the +medicine Shanks left for him.” + +Mollie went back to the cabin and Bushy and Bob travelled toward the +mining gulch. + +“Have you got a family, Bob? Little girls and little boys and a mother +and father?” + +“I don’t think they are very little now, because it has been years and +years since I saw them. My old mother is dead and the last letter the +boys wrote me said father was ailing. Guess he ought to be, for he is +eighty-five years old.” + +“They would like to have you come back, wouldn’t they, Bob?” + +“Better believe it! My old wife would cry her eyes out with joy, and +the little boys and girls, who are men and women now, would never know +their old dad, I am so grizzled and weather beaten.” Bob slyly wiped a +tear from his eye and Bushy pretended not to see. + +“I am sorry I took you up, and now I wish I hadn’t won,” murmured +Bushy, half aloud, and Bob heard and straightened himself with a jerk +that meant “steady, old man, don’t you weaken!” + +“You needn’t feel one bit sorry, Bushy, because it would have been +the same had one of the boys picked me up. A bet is a bet, and not to +pay an honest bet is just as bad as horse stealing. I’d feel just as +uncomfortable not to pay a bet as a horse-thief must feel when the rope +goes curling about his neck.” + +“I won it fairly, didn’t I, Bob?” asked Bushy, as they came in sound +of the miners’ picks. “If I did not win it perfectly fair and square I +don’t want you to give the mine to me.” + +“But you did, and I am going to have all the boys who saw you ride the +broncho be witnesses to my turning over the new lead to you. I would +never sleep easy again if I didn’t pay the bet.” + +The excitement of Bushy and her companion was considerably increased +by the appearance of two strangers who caught up with them on the road, +one of whom said to Bob, “I’ll give you $40,000, here and now, for that +find,” and Bob shook his head rather mournfully. Bushy said nothing. + +“Hello! here they come,” cried Shanks, which was the signal for +everybody in hearing to draw near the rich quartz. All were curious +to know if Bob would really keep his word--everybody but the Padre, +Shanks, and Tom; they were more curious to see how Bushy would receive +the gift. + +“I don’t think it a wise thing to have her so tempted,” said Mr. +Sukolt, and his face looked troubled. + +“Oh, pshaw!” cried Tom. “It was a square thing. If it had happened +between two men there would be some tall fighting and perhaps a little +lynching if the affair wasn’t done up in business fashion.” + +“That’s so! that’s so!” chimed in several of the rough men, “and we +will see that she gets the ‘lead,’ too; Bob was a darn fool to make +such a bet, but, by George! he must pay his debts.” + +“It is a very unfortunate affair,” said the Padre. “This will test +my little girl’s nature in a way I would much have preferred to have +avoided.” + +“Let her alone,” cried Shanks, who was watching Bushy’s every move. +“Old Bob is superstitious, and would think the stars would fall on him +and kill him if he broke his word.” + +Mr. Sukolt felt Bushy’s hand slip into his, and turning he saw her face +fairly aglow with happiness. + +“Padre!” she cried, “come quick. There is a man here who wants to buy +the lead. He has offered Bob $40,000 in cash this minute. It is my +mine, you know, and he can’t have it for $40,000, do you hear, Padre?” + +“Bushy, child, Bushy! what has gotten into you; do you really intend to +hold the old man to his foolish bet?” + +“Of course I do, Padre,” and she dragged him hurriedly to the fresh-dug +hole that was causing such excitement; Tom, Shanks, and seven other +miners following. + +“By rights it is not my mine,” old Bob was saying, with a dreary little +smile on his bronzed face. “If I considered it my lead you could have +it for that amount, sir, and I would start for the States at sunrise +to-morrow.” The tremolo in his voice seemed to strike a sympathetic +chord in everybody’s heart but Bushy’s. She shocked them all by her +sudden interruption with: + +“But it is not his mine, sir, and I’ll not take a cent less than +$50,000. I know enough about veins, sir, to feel certain that rock will +yield the owner who works it $100,000 in no time. Look at the width of +the white quartz vein, and see, it branches out in two great arms, big +tunnelling to the right and left, then following the main vein down. +There will be three mines in one. Is it not so, Padre?” + +Bushy talked so excitedly and seemed so oblivious of the fact that +the greater she made the mine out, the more poor Bob suffered for his +folly; that Mr. Sukolt was stunned by this new evidence of avarice in +his little girl’s heart. + +“You are right as to the three veins,” answered Mr. Sukolt, after +digging about awhile with his stick; everybody closing about to see and +listen. “Are you an old miner, sir?” he asked, turning to one of the +new-comers, the one who had offered the $40,000. + +“We are both Californians and working our way home with success in our +pockets. I did not intend to mine any more, but it’s as fascinating as +gambling. I offer $40,000 for this strike. I have the amount here,” +and he tapped the great leather belt that girdled him, which seemingly +carried nothing but revolvers. + +“Bob, it is my mine, is it not?” cried Bushy, running to him and +throwing her arms about his waist. “Remember, Bob, bad luck will come +to you if you don’t pay your bets.” + +“Yes, yes, I know; and I was only weakening because I just thought for +a minute how near I had come to seeing my old woman once more.” + +“I can’t understand Bushy,” said Mr. Sukolt. “I think I had better send +her back to the cabin; she seems to have lost all feeling.” + +“Let her alone,” said Shanks, “the child is up to something. I see it +in the peculiar glitter of her eye. She would tell us if she had a +chance, I think, but she can’t here, you see. Let her alone. It is like +playing euchre when she has called for her partner’s best card, and +will play it alone.” + +“Yes, let her alone,” grumbled the miners, some of them ugly with +jealousy, and others with drink. So, while Bushy and Bob were having +their talk, the miners flocked about the fresh-dug hole and gossiped on +the value of the find. + +“Boys,” cried old Bob at last, as he and Bushy joined them, “I want you +all to be witnesses to the fact that I now give up all claim to the +mine and hand it over to Bushy Sukolt, in payment of the bet, lost two +weeks ago, when she rode my wild colt, White Face.” + +“Hurrah for Bob!” shouted the miners. + +“You are a fool,” said the two Californians. + +“Can’t help what any of you think!” muttered Bob, as he signed a +written statement made out in pencil, on the leaf of a memorandum book, +by one of the boys who insisted that Bushy should have something more +than their word for security. “I feel better, any way. I may have been +a fool to make the bet, but, by Jove! I don’t agree with you that it is +acting the fool to pay it.” + +“I’ll prove to you that it is,” said the man from California. “I’ll +give the little girl $50,000--that is her price, I believe.” + +Every eye was turned on Bushy. Mr. Sukolt’s face was ashen white, the +excitement was intense. Shanks walked over and stood close to Bushy, +but said nothing. Tom got shaky in his legs, and squatted down on a +rock near the mine. Bob trembled so that when he handed the paper to +Bushy, she took his hand as well as the paper, and held it fast. Thus, +clinging to his arm and hand, she replied, in a clear, firm voice: +“I’ll take it, sir, if you can pay me this very minute.” + +“You are all witnesses that this is no child’s play,” spoke up the +California miner as he began to unbuckle his huge leather belt. + +“I’ll see that it is not,” said Shanks, who immediately tore out two +leaves from his note-book and made out the necessary papers to render +the sale legal. + +“Fix it so he can’t back out, Shanks,” said Bushy. + +“Fix it so she can’t back out, Shanks,” said the California miner, +imitating Bushy’s voice as best he could. This made everybody laugh, +even old Bob smiled faintly--he was literally being held up by Bushy, +who for some reason would not let him sit down as Tom had done. + +“Will you hurry, please!” said Bushy, and the man counted out: “Thirty, +forty, forty-five, fifty--there, young lady, is the $50,000 in cash, +for which I shall take, in exchange, the Bushy Mine, for that is what I +shall call it.” + +Bushy evaded the eyes of her father. She felt his disapproval all the +time, and even when the cheer went up as the gold and greenbacks were +placed in her dress skirt, which she held up to receive the money, she +dared not yet look up to him; for the glad light, that always covered +his face when pleased with her, was not there. + +“Now, Daddy Bob,” she said turning to the old man, who still trembled +at her side, “I want to buy White Face, for that wild animal brought me +all my good luck.” + +Daddy Bob looked puzzled, but Shanks threw up his hat with a regular +war-whoop. He saw at last through Bushy’s way of doing business. He +brought out his note-book again, and with a face beaming with delight, +said: “How much do you intend to offer for White Face?” + +“Just $45,000!” + +Daddy Bob sank in a heap at her feet. Tom tumbled off his rock and +went rolling into the new mine. Exclamations of surprise burst from the +lips of every miner. Bushy raised her eyes and glanced at her father; +he was watching her and only smiled, but that was enough for Bushy. She +knew he was pleased. + +“Make out the bill of sale, Shanks. Be quick, please,” said Bushy, and +she stooped down to help Daddy Bob to his feet again. With one hand she +clung to her dress, full of gold and money, and with the other she led +the old man to a rock near the Padre, and there they counted out the +cash--Mr. Sukolt looking smilingly on. + +“Thirty, forty, forty-five--there, Daddy Bob, is $5,000 more than what +you would have got, had you not paid the bet, for I heard you tell that +man you would take $40,000 if the mine were yours. I held on, you see, +and can give you $45,000 and keep $5,000 for myself, which is good pay +for riding on a bucking broncho. Don’t you think so, Padre?” + +Mr. Sukolt put his big hand over Bushy’s brown one, and squeezed it, +but he said not a word, he was watching Daddy Bob. Bushy took the bill +of sale, and piled the money into Bob’s shaking hands. + +“Don’t forget, Daddy, that you go East by sunrise to-morrow morning.” +Daddy could not stand it any longer, he bent his aged form, and kissed +Bushy on the forehead and burst into tears. + +“It is quite fair, is it, Mr. Sukolt?” he stammered at last as he dried +his eyes on his coat-sleeve and looked wonderingly at the money. + +“Quite fair,” spoke up the Padre, who now held his daughter on his +knee, and had both her arms about his neck. + +“Boys, do you think it fair?” + +“She’s a brick,” cried one. + +“A jolly business woman,” said the travelling companion of the +California purchaser to Bob. “She managed to make you pay the bet and +at the same time hand you $5,000 more than you would have got at your +own bargain, and she pockets $5,000 for herself. Of course it’s fair!” + +Thus assured that it was all right to sell the colt for so much money, +Daddy Bob put away the $45,000, and told the boys he would really start +next day for the East and his family. + +The miners gave three cheers for Bushy before going back to work, and +Tom whittled out the words, “Bushy Mine” on a pine-log and stood it up +as a mark for the new owner. Mr. Sukolt told Tom to go back with Bushy +and take care of the $5,000, and then get dinner and bring it out to +the boys in tin buckets. On their way home Tom said: + +“How did you happen to be so smart, Bushy? It didn’t seem natural,” and +he laughed heartily. + +“Well, Tom,” she replied, “I heard one of the California men say to the +other ‘bid $40,000 and go up as high as $50,000 before giving it up.’ +That is what made me so brave. You didn’t think I was going to keep the +money, did you, Tom?” + +“Darned if I knew!” said Tom, and they both laughed. + +“Well,” said Bushy to the California man, as he passed them on the road +a few minutes later, “Daddy Bob was not such a fool as you thought to +prove him, was he?” + +“Oh, Daddy was all right,” replied the man, laughing aloud, “the little +girl was the one who gulled me.” + +Bushy talked it all over with her father that night. He did not tell +her he had feared that she would give way to the glittering temptation. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIV + + +A year later, and we find Mr. Sukolt and his party still at the same +camp. + +“What is it?” asked Bushy of her father, who was reading attentively a +letter that had come to him by the last mail-wagon. “What is it, Padre? +You look so serious.” + +“They want me to come back to Great Pine Mine and bring three men with +me. The offer is a good one.” + +“Three men,” cried Bushy; “why, Padre, then you can take Big Bill, +can’t you?” + +“What do you think about going, boys,” asked Mr. Sukolt, turning to +Shanks and Tom. + +“Oh, Tom,” said Bushy, almost pleadingly, “we are going back to Great +Pine Mine--you and me and Padre and Shanks and Big Bill, and there is a +lot of money waiting for you there--the letter says so, and”---- + +“Hold on and take a good breath, chicken,” cried Tom, as he pinched her +ears. “You are going too fast altogether.” + +After considering everything, Mr. Sukolt decided that if they could +dispose of their mining property they would go. Big Bill had not been +at all fortunate in finding gold in this camp, and was glad to be made +one of the party. + +[Illustration: BUSHY’S HOME AT GREAT PINE MINE.] + +Little Belle heard the news and came running into the cabin, carrying +her new hood that her mamma had just finished. “You must take it, +Bushy, because when winter comes it will keep your ears from freezing, +and it is much better than any kind Tom can make.” + +“Well, I like that!” cried Tom, who turned just in time to hear his +skill deprecated by pretty little Belle. + +“Oh, Tom,” they both cried, and more hearty laughing followed. “We know +you do a lot of things, but you do sew so funny!” put in Bushy as she +caught him by the hands and whirled him around and around. + +It was a busy day, and yet there was not much work done in the mines. +Every man seemed to prefer lingering about the Sukolt cabins rather +than digging ore. Without being asked, they assisted in sorting +and packing, and cleaning wagons and mending harness, splicing +ropes, brightening firearms, dividing ammunition, and adding little +necessaries, like a sack of salt, a plug of tobacco for Tom, a side of +bacon, a round of ammunition, all taken from their own little stock. + +Mr. Hogan said he would try and sell the “claims,” should any Eastern +gold-lover with a lot of money wander into camp. They were good mines +and would pay well if anybody had money enough to work them. The only +one being worked was the Bushy Mine, which had turned out to be one of +the greatest finds that year. + +It was a sad day when the two wagons and the four miners and Bushy rode +out of the old camp. Mr. Sukolt had sent a reply to Great Pine Mine by +the same man who brought the mail, saying he would accept, so when, +three days afterward, they started on their journey the word that they +were coming was four days ahead of them. + +They had along with them a cow and four oxen. The men walked most of +the way, only riding when it was down grade. Big Bill drove the cattle. +Bushy rode Jip, of course, and was a kind of scout. She went ahead and +warned them of any coming teams, or bad crossings; hunted for water, +and looked out for good camping grounds and grass spots where the +horses and cattle might get a little grazing as a luxury. On the third +day they reached a very high place in the mountains. They actually rode +right through the clouds to get there. The mountain peaks rose high and +sharp all about them, and the scenery was magnificent in its sudden +changes from storm to sunshine. Bushy had never seen anything equal to +it before, and she kept wishing all the time for Mollie and the other +children to look at it with her. + +“It makes me think of two big buffaloes fighting--butting their heads +together,” cried Bushy, as she sat on Jip and watched two black clouds +rushing toward each other. + +Bushy, in her delight over this new phase of nature, urged Jip on +ahead, and was soon high up and far in advance of the two wagons +and Big Bill with his cattle. Still she could hear the men behind +distinctly, and often understood their calls one to another. “Oh, oh!” +she screamed as she reached the very tip-top of the divide, “those two +black fellows roll about like they were alive.” + +She checked Jip and sat like one entranced, watching the play of the +two clouds in the sky to the left of her. They took all kinds of funny +shapes, first long, with queer waving tails, and arms stretching out, +then they would roll up in a ball and appear to bump angrily against +each other. The sky assumed all colors and shades imaginable, and for +a while Bushy wondered if the world was coming to an end--everything +suddenly looked so strange. “Jip, oh, Jip, they are coming this way!” +she screamed as a tremendous thunder-clap almost startled her into +falling off the horse. Peal after peal rent the air and Jip trembled +so that Bushy dismounted, thinking he would sink under her. “Crack! +flash! bang!” went the lightning, “boom! boom! boom!” sounded the +thunder like a thousand cannons going off at once, yet the thickest +clouds were far below. The sun was shining overhead. + +“If it comes any farther this way, Jip, old fellow, we are in for +it,” said Bushy, looking back anxiously for the appearance of the two +wagons. “Surely they will get up here soon, I cannot be so very far in +advance!” + +The clouds seemed to be rolling down the mountain-side. Bushy watched +with wide-open eyes and soon saw beneath her nothing but the big +buffaloes, as she called them, and the noise was deafening. Crash! +fell the trees. Bang! boom! and then a bellow like that of a wounded +grizzly. “Gee! whoa! haw!” would come to Busby’s ears now and then +from the darkness below. Then she heard, “Hold your horses, they are +slipping down the mountain-side!” “Ah, that was Tom’s voice,” murmured +Bushy. “Jip, we are left out of this entirely.” She tried to make +Jip go down the road, but no force could drive him one step in that +direction. While Bushy and Jip were standing in the bright sunshine, +the men and wagons below were being drenched with rain. To them it was +all dark, and the rumbling thunder and quivering lightning, coming +upon them almost every instant, made it imperative to stop where they +were and try to keep the animals from dashing down the precipice in +their fright. The rain did not fall in drops but poured, as if out of +buckets. + +“I am all right, Padre!” but though she could hear the men, they could +not distinguish her voice, for they were in the midst of the storm. + +Still pressing forward, the little party were brought to a sudden +standstill by a tremendous report of thunder, which startled them even +after their experience of the last half hour. As suddenly as the storm +had come it settled and drifted downward, giving a few departing groans +and disappearing in the valley below. With streaming faces and hair, +and drenched bodies, the little group looked about them to ascertain if +anyone of their number was missing. + +“Bushy!” they all screamed, as the sun burst upon them in its glory and +made their dripping forms seem grotesque and out of place. + +“Here! here! Jip and I are all right,” she cried, and when the wagons +reached her a more astounded set of men never gazed upon a little girl. + +“Dry!” they all cried. “Not a drop of water on her!” It was a wonderful +experience for them all, and the miners never got tired of telling the +story. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXV. + + +They got to Great Pine Mine all right, and, after a warm welcome by +some of the old miners, they soon found themselves settled in the same +snug quarters of years ago. One day, not long after their arrival, +Bushy decided to carry out a pet ambition, and that was to climb to the +top of Bald Mountain. She got to the very summit and Rover managed to +follow her, but it took them longer than Bushy had thought it would. +Hence they were far from camp when black night came down upon them. + +“Strange!” suddenly cried Bushy, “the light is quite to the left of +us, Rover, old fellow. Our noses are pointed in the wrong direction. I +didn’t think I could get so badly twisted going such a short distance.” +Bushy and Rover made direct for the light on the left. All went well +until, as they drew close to what they thought was the camp, Rover +showed signs of great uneasiness. Bushy’s attention was attracted to +the dog’s queer actions and she remarked to herself: “Something’s +wrong, sure! + +“Rover, be careful! Let us go closer. I don’t know this place at all. +This light doesn’t belong to Great Pine Mine. I wonder where we are! +It makes me think of the goblins that Big Bill said walked about on +Halloween. Softly, softly, Rover! There is no animal that I ever heard +of that has an eye like that. Maybe it is a ghost. I never saw one and +don’t know how they look.” + +Blinded by staring so fixedly at the light Bushy did not realize how +close she was to it until she came bump against a wall of rock. The +ray of light that had led her on shone through a crack between the +stones. “Down, Rover, down! I say,” commanded Bushy, expecting every +minute that some one would pounce upon them and perhaps kill them. +Rover obeyed, stretching himself reluctantly on the ground, while Bushy +crouched close within the black shadow of the wall. + +“Hist! What was that?” said a gruff voice close to the opening. + +“Confound it, Barkley, something is prowling around here, I feel sure!” + +“Bah! always skittish--on the lookout for something to be afraid of,” +remarked a sneering voice farther away. “Let up with your fake ghosts +and help us finish the plan of attack. The leader is old man Sukolt. +I know him well.” They were talking in a Mexican lingo, but Bushy +understood them. + +“Sukolt! he means the Padre,” she murmured, and her fist clenched +tighter the revolver hanging in her belt. + +“What have Mexicans like these to do with my Padre? Still, Rover, don’t +move, there is work for us here, I’m afraid!” + +“There is no way he can be taken except to hit him in the back, for no +one of us dare meet him face to face,” grumbled an old man. Bushy was +now clinging to the rocks outside like a bat, with both of her eyes +peeping upon the scene in the cave. + +The last speaker was the centre of the group of men, who were evidently +brigands of the Rockies. + +“How many are we?” asked the leader of the gang. “Ten,” was the reply. + +“There are over thirty miners, but we must kill them or drive them +away. We have too much valuable stuff here, and, besides that, too +comfortable quarters to be driven out by a set of gold-diggers,” added +the chief of the bandits. “They are getting too thick here, altogether.” + +“We will set fire to the camp first. Ten cabins must be fired at once, +and as the miners come out to fight the flames they must be picked off +one at a time. We can do it, because we will be in ambush and they in +the bright light. Mind you don’t leave the scene until you can each +count your three dead men.” + +“What about the girl?--must we kill her, too?” asked a fine looking +bandit, whose moustache would have been the pride of a story-book +cavalier. + +“No,” said the chief, “take her captive. She will be useful to cook for +us and keep the cave in order. She must be a good shot, so keep an eye +on her, even after you catch her.” + +Bushy put her ear to the crack, and listened closely. + +“Two o’clock, do you hear?” the chief was saying. “Each of you must +pick out a cabin and attend to its inmates himself without further +instruction; I will look out for the girl.” + +“Oh, you will, will you?” thought Bushy, as she slipped down softly, +and again taking hold of Rover’s collar, said: “To the Padre, Rover, +for he is in danger.” + +Rover sniffed about for a few seconds and then started off so fast +that Bushy had difficulty in keeping up with him without stumbling and +falling every few yards. + +When once so far away that there was no danger of the robbers hearing +them, Bushy began to realize for the first time how serious the danger +was. + +“We are not one bit brave, are we Rover?” she said, ready to cry with +joy on seeing the lights of the camp once more. + +It was not very late, yet Mr. Sukolt had grown uneasy and felt sure +something had happened to keep his daughter away from home at that +hour, so he had sent some men north, and he himself had just started +out toward the mountain that she had climbed. + +“Where is the Padre?” she cried, excitedly, as she rushed into the +tent, where Shanks had gone to get lanterns for farther search. + +“Gone to hunt you!” + +“Call him back immediately, and send out the alarm for all the men, +too, for there is to be an attack on the camp at two o’clock to-night,” +and Bushy threw herself excitedly on the robe at Shanks’s feet. + +The signal was sounded, and in less than twenty minutes every miner was +in front of Mr. Sukolt’s cabin. + +Mr. Sukolt had Bushy tell her experience to them, and they doubted not +one word. No man was to close his eyes that night. Bushy, Shanks, and +Tom were to take the centre cabin, which had a cellar with portholes. + +“All wounded must be taken immediately when hurt to the centre cabin. +So, Tom, take there now, everything necessary for hospital purposes,” +said Mr. Sukolt. He then considered the problem how to save their +property from fire. Every miner was to be his own watcher, and the +instant a brigand appeared he was to be shot. If a cabin should be +fired no one from outside was to go near it. + +Bushy could not sleep, though she tried to obey Shanks and get a nap +before the attack was to be made. Twelve, one, and half-past one +o’clock came, and her eyes were still wide open and bright. + +“Sh!” said Tom, who kept going from one porthole to another, trying in +vain to see something through the darkness. “It is the gloomiest night +I ever saw. No wonder those wicked devils selected this time to do +their work! Hark, I hear a foot-fall!” + +Bushy, Shanks, and Tom held their breath and listened. + +“What time is it?” asked Shanks, softly. + +“I don’t know,” whispered Tom, “but it must be after two. It”---- + +“Tom,” called Bushy at his elbow, “a man is on my side of the cabin. He +is trying to strike a match. He”---- + +She hurried back just in time to see the flash of light, and recognized +the chief of the bandits. Bang! went her rifle, and with a yell that +brought every man in camp to his feet in alarm, he fell over in the +shavings he had been trying to fire. + +“Bang! bang! bang! bang!” sounded from all sides. Screams of alarm and +pain were heard so distinctly that Bushy threw herself on a buffalo +robe and covered her head and ears. + +“Oh, Tom, I can’t stand it!” she cried. “Perhaps the Padre”---- + +Then came a loud pounding on the door and the cry: “Tom, open! It +is I!” The Padre had a wounded man in his arms and his own face was +covered with blood, but he called to Bushy: “I am not hurt, but Big +Bill is, and this is the robber chief, he was the only one of the ten +near enough to bring inside. Everything is peaceful now. Nine men, dead +or wounded, are guarded by our miners, who were saying, when I left +them, that our death would have been inevitable had the attack, so well +planned, been carried out without a warning.” + +“And would you mind telling me how we were given away,” asked the +wounded chief. + +Mr. Sukolt told how Bushy had heard and seen the bandits through a +crack in the wall of their cave. The chief of the ruffians looked on +her with wide eyes of astonishment. + +“Defeated and my men killed, myself taken prisoner, and my cave and +goods fallen into the hands of the very mining superintendent we +started out to do up, and all this done by a girl!” he muttered. + +“By your new cook,” said Bushy, who felt braver now that she held her +father’s hand. + +Tom and Shanks were helping to place the chief in an easy position, but +when he heard her words he raised himself up and, with a half laugh, +said: “Well, you have done us up brown, my little maiden! I must say +every dish you served to-night was well done,” and then he fainted. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVI + + +When Bushy awoke the next morning, her father, Tom, and Shanks were +busying themselves over the wounded brigand. “Do you know,” said the +chief, as he lay stretched out full length on the stone floor, “do you +know, Mr. Sukolt, that you have a very fine girl?” + +“Well, we are all inclined to think so,” replied her father. “Had it +not been for her last night you would have soon wiped us out.” + +“I think that last bullet is going to end my career,” murmured the +wounded man. + +“I have nobody to leave my money to,” he added, turning seriously to +Mr. Sukolt. “I became an outlaw first because I had murdered a man I +hated. I am rich and came by my wealth, honestly enough, from the sale +of lands left me by my people. I would like to will it to your girl, +for she is the bravest little creature I ever met. I don’t suppose you +are anxious to take things so ill-gotten as those we have in the cave, +but Bushy knows the way, and you can do what you wish with everything +there. My bank account goes to the little girl. Now give me paper, +pen, and ink. Quick! for I feel I am sinking!” + +Tom, thoroughly realizing the seriousness of the case, and filled +with wild delight over the thought of Bushy coming in for perhaps a +good round sum of money, made a dash over to the main cabin, snatched +the required articles and hastened back again to lay them before the +brigand, saying: + +“There you are, sir; now is your chance to leave the child a mite of +money, if you see fit.” + +Mr. Sukolt was not altogether satisfied with the idea of such a legacy, +but both Tom and Shanks insisted that the man be allowed to do as he +wished, and the Padre at length yielded. The outcome of it all was that +the wounded chief turned over all his honestly acquired property to +Bushy. Shanks understood the law well enough to see that everything was +done correctly. The wounded man died within an hour. + +A month afterward Mr. Sukolt explained to Bushy that he had written and +ascertained that the bandit’s real estate amounted to nearly $25,000, +of which she thus became heiress in her own right. + +“It is my duty to tell you,” said her father, “and to add that you are +old enough to realize in a measure what that amount of money means.” + +Bushy sat stunned, and was only aroused by Rover’s cold nose being +poked into her closed hand. + +Mr. Sukolt returned to his office near the mine. He was there +confronted with a great surprise. A Mr. Richard Hamilton laid his card +on the desk. He was the man whom Bushy had lariated when his frightened +horse was rushing toward a precipice at Cross Roads. Mr. Sukolt hardly +recognized him at first. When the visitor recalled the circumstances, +the two men shook hands warmly. Mr. Hamilton had a proposition to make +with reference to Bushy, and had come far out of his way to speak to +Mr. Sukolt. + +“I am going to New York,” he said, “and she can go East with me, +remain with my people and attend school. I insist that you consider my +suggestion.” + +“Bushy’s action scarcely merits your exhibition of feeling; any one +would have done the same in similar circumstances,” said Mr. Sukolt. + +“Must I be deprived of showing my gratitude for the care you took of +me? Can I forget how Bushy ran her horse to Cross Roads for Tom and the +wagon, in order that I might be taken to your camp comfortably?” + +“Your offer alone amply repays me for the little trouble we may have +taken,” replied Mr. Sukolt. “Your proposition,” he added, looking the +young man gravely in the face, “is to take Bushy with you and have her +educated as a young lady should be?” + +“Exactly; her talents might, perhaps, be cultivated in this solitude, +where she never sees a child, seldom a woman, and rarely anybody +outside the camp; but her character must be developed by coming in +contact with the world itself. Let me take her. It’s the best thing you +can do for the child.” + +“She is the last link that binds me to life. You do not know what you +ask of me; yet, I have been conscious lately of a guilty feeling in +keeping her so long with me. The miners and myself have tried to think +we could give her all the education necessary, but I find that while +developing her rapidly in some ways, we are neglecting her in others, +quite as essential, perhaps. I know she needs the companionship of her +own sex.” His broad frame shook with emotion as he concluded, “You can +take her if she is willing.” + +“Thank you,” replied Mr. Hamilton; “you will not regret placing her in +the care of my mother.” + +“Your letters from home not only confirm that statement, but have +revealed to me the fact that I have met your father. I remember your +family well, and since I have decided to part with Bushy, I consider +myself very fortunate in being able to place her in the home of Dick +Hamilton, your father.” + +“Hallo! Oh, Mr. Hamilton, is it really you?” cried the cheery voice of +Bushy as she burst into the office. “How do you do?” + +Something in her father’s face told Bushy that Mr. Hamilton’s visit +had a serious meaning. She shook his hand, and then asked: “Anything +happened, Padre?” + +“No, dear, I have just begun to realize that you are almost a woman and +quite old enough to go to school. So Mr. Hamilton and myself have been +planning to send you away for four or five years. And”--trying in a sad +way to make a joke--“he is doing all this because you lariated him, +Bushy.” + +Bushy could not smile, but she listened bravely to the plans for her +future. Then she found an excuse to get away, and as soon as she was +by herself she broke into tears, but she was quieted down by the time +the men came home. At night the tears began to flow again and she cried +herself to sleep. It was decided that she was to start in two days for +Denver with Mr. Hamilton in the buckboard that carried the mail. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVII + + +Bushy’s packing was the source of much hilarity. “You must not forget,” +said Tom, as he carefully rolled up her guitar, “that you are to spend +Christmas in New York City. It is a big place, a lot of people in it, +and oh, thousands of boys and girls! How often are you going to write +to us?” + +“Oh, don’t put in my snow-shoes, Shanks!” cried Bushy, taking them from +his hands. “I don’t know much, but surely I know I won’t want those +things in New York. What was it you said, Tom? Oh, yes, about writing! +Padre, how often will you folks write to me? I promise you a letter for +every one I get. How is that?” + +“We will send you one every day,” exclaimed Tom. + +“That won’t do,” interrupted Mr. Sukolt. “Bushy is going there to +study, and if she spends every Saturday evening in writing a bouncing +long letter home we will let her off with that. She can begin next +Saturday, and no matter where she finds herself she must stop and send +word how she is, and what she is doing.” + +After much trouble the great box was filled. Of course, there were +many things that Bushy positively refused to go without. There was her +rifle, for example. “I won’t stir a step if you don’t put it in,” she +said. And just so she acted about her revolver, her skates, her bow and +arrows; and a small lariat was put in by Tom to use as a fire escape +if she had to sleep in one of the top stories of those dreadful tall +houses he had heard about. + +That evening a grand ball was given in the Sukolt cabin. There were so +many people who seemed sorry because she was going away that Bushy was +constantly choking down the big lump that would rise in her throat. +Every old miner said: “Oh, Bushy, it’s so far and we will miss you so!” + +“Padre, if they would say nothing at all about it,” said Bushy, “I +could stand it, but when they talk so much, I--I get shaky and shivery, +and if it keeps up this way much longer I’ll go on a strike, so I will, +and empty all my things out again and not go one step!” + +“Take care, take care, little woman! I’m inclined to think it will be +much harder for us old fellows left behind than for you who are going +into a new and beautiful world. Then, dear,” said Mr. Sukolt as he put +his arm about her waist, “you need not feel so bad about it; you are +going to have Jip and Rover. They will be sent after you, and Mr. +Hamilton says you will have a first-rate stable for them.” + +“Yes, Padre, I know.” Then, much to the surprise of everybody she broke +down and cried aloud. After the shower of tears she bravely pulled +herself together and with the true Bushy grit, shook herself well and +volunteered to dance a good-by jig. + +“Bravo!” shouted the men, and one by one they sat down close up against +the wall that there might be a lot of room for the dancer. To the +accompaniment of the banjo, guitar, and fiddle, Bushy not only gave +them the negro jig, but the Mexican fandango, as well. + + “Tra, la, la, you and I, + We’ll be happy till we die; + Not a flaw if you try + Can you find in my right eye.” + +So sang Bushy, and then came the chorus, which is quite as meaningless, +its only merit being its happy tune, which the miners rang out so +lustily that the mountains echoed and re-echoed with the glad sound: + + “Ha, ha, ha! jig it out, + We’ve no time to think or pout. + Tra, la, la! sauerkraut-- + What would you have us think about?” + +Next came the call for the “Bushy Whirl,” a favorite dance with the +miners. The men stood in a ring around the room, and while the girl +was dancing and singing the song she would suddenly touch one of the +men. If he did not swing her immediately he had to pay a penalty. Big +Bill got enthusiastic. He cried: + +“Go it, Bushy! Shove back, you fellows, and give her room! Whale away +there! Don’t drag your music like that; can’t you fiddle and look on +too? Ha, ha! you lost your swing; serves you right and you’ll pay the +fine! What! it’s my turn now? Never thought you’d pick out an old +fellow like me, Bushy. Ah! you are a heap better’n”---- + +Bill’s sentence was left unfinished. He went whirling around and +around and would have fallen full length on the cabin floor had not a +good-natured miner stretched forth his knotty arm and saved him. + +Shanks manipulated the banjo, and from his first position cross-legged +on the floor, he had, with renewed exhilaration, worked his way to the +top of a convenient pile of freight-boxes. From this high seat his eyes +could follow every step of the fairy-footed Bushy. + + “Come, look out! your time is nearing, + Don’t stand napping like a deer. + See; I’m pointing. Oh! you’re out, sir, + And you’ll have to pay the beer.” + +So sang Bushy as she floated and spun about, swaying her body at +times until the dusky cloud of tangled hair almost swept the floor. +She wore only her flour-sack slip. On the front and back of the +waist, in big blue letters, were the words “Extra fine XXX,” and the +same ornamentation appeared four times in the full skirt that was +gathered with twine on to the waist-band. Black cotton stockings and +white-beaded moccasins completed her travelling costume. + +In the ten minutes’ whirling, Bushy had touched six men, who were so +engrossed with watching the vision gliding about in such mysterious and +picturesque fashion, that they hesitated too long in answering the call +to swing her, and were therefore marked down by Long Nosed Jim in his +dirty note-book--of course, to the great delight of everybody--as the +victims who were to stand treat for the evening. + +At last her plump finger touched Mr. Hamilton. His merry blue eyes had +not for a minute left off drinking in the--to him--remarkable scene. + +Bushy was full of fun and especially desirous of giving him a tumble, +but he firmly gripped her hands and held fast, and they spun around and +around like a French top. + +Mr. Sukolt suddenly called out: “Take your partners for a quadrille,” +and the whirl was ended. + +A voice like a small hurricane took up the cry: “Choose your partners +for a quadrille! Clear away, there! Get a move on yer! Now--then! +Hands half round and back again! Up--the middle and turn back home! +Swing--your corners! (Spring yer heel.) Ladies back and gents to the +front. Heigh--oh! Tra, la, la, la, la, la! Swing--your partners! (Keep +it up!) Ladies in the middle and ring ’round a rosy! Shake--your soles! +All--hands around! (Tum, tum, toodle doodle dum!)” + +The voice that thus gradually grew from an occasional high wind into +a continuous roar belonged to Tom, the master of ceremonies. His call +“Balloon Sal!” brought the gay crowd upon its feet with a vim that made +every log in the cabin quake. + +Mr. Hamilton and Bushy led the dance and six of the jolliest miners in +the camp completed the set. + +In order that he might be seen as well as heard Tom had mounted a big +keg, the head of which, about twice every minute, found itself too +small to accommodate the gyrations of his feet. He would at times put +his fiddle behind him, over his shoulder, on his knees, and once in a +great while it found its right position, yet Tom was never known to +miss a note in any tune he played. + +“Dos-a-dos and don’t get lost; lose your lady at your cost!” + +Away they went, four couples at once, and as the time increased, the +bodies bent, the heads tossed, and the arms swayed in manner most +alarming. When opportunity permitted, the boys got in the single and +double shuffle; the backs of their legs were mysteriously brought +in front, their knees turned in and their heels turned out, and not +a little off-hand inspiration was gathered from the clicking of the +home-made “bones” played most vigorously by some of the sympathetic +lookers-on. + +“Allaymantle-left!” shouted Tom, and his fiddle gave out an extra +squeak of delight as the hands of the dancers got wofully mixed up in +the change. + +The laughter, the “Hi-hi-yeps!” and the wild swinging of the partners +were at their height when everything was brought to an unexpected halt +by the violin suddenly shifting from the intoxicating tune of the +“Arkansaw Traveller” to the doleful, discordant braying of a burro: +“A-a-ah!--Uh!--A-a-ah!” + +The burst of good-natured shrieks that followed was cut short by +Tom’s voice again, as he yelled: “Prom-Nah-Dall! Yank yer partner +to the lemonade stall!” winding up with three of the most dreadful +donkey-brays ever uttered. + +The morning after the dance dawned clear and bright, the sun rising +with that peculiar splendor never seen outside of Colorado, but no one +in Great Pine Mine made one word of comment on its glory. Indeed it is +doubtful whether any one even noticed it, for it was the day when Bushy +was to bid good-by to the camp. + +“God b-b-bless you!” stammered old miner Walt, who had come, like a +dozen others, from far back in the mountains to bid Bushy adieu. The +words got all tangled up in his throat as if they had a hard time to +find their way out. Both of his big hands clasped Bushy’s small fist, +and with a silent squeeze he turned and walked away, giving a savage +kick to a clod in the road, as if blaming it in some way for the queer +feeling in his throat. + +“Well, good-by Bushy,” said another one. “We’ll”---- + +The trembling lip frightened the rest of the sentence away, and, +grasping the outstretched hand, Bushy dropped a tear or two on the +knotty knuckles of one of her most faithful admirers. + +One by one the gold-diggers pressed forward to give their farewells and +their blessings. Then came Shanks, Tom, and the Padre. Mr. Hamilton had +been waiting some time on the buckboard, all ready to start. + +Shanks, the big-hearted Englishman, who had grown to love Bushy as he +might have loved a daughter, took her into his arms and murmured: “God +help me, child! for the first time in my life, Bushy, I’m no good as a +doctor. The whole kit of bottles in my medicine-chest can’t cure one of +the aching hearts you leave behind.” + +Bushy smiled through her tears and turned to Tom. + +“Dear old Tom,” she murmured, and as her arms clung about his neck, +she patted his poor scalped head and gave way for the first time that +morning to uncontrolled weeping. + +Sob after sob shook her whole frame, and a second later she was pressed +close to her father’s heart. + +Mr. Sukolt was the last to bid the little Rocky Mountain girl good-by. + +He held her clasped in his arms so long, and was so silent that the +miners gradually drifted away to one side in little whispering groups, +leaving only Tom near by--faithful old Tom, who, as he gazed on Mr. +Sukolt’s white face, recalled the scene, twelve years before, when the +Padre had held his little girl just so, trying to decide whether it was +wise to do as her baby head had planned, and let her go “wiv her papa’s +tachel.” + +Now he was sending her back to the “States” for the same reason that he +had taken her away--because she was the one thing in the world left to +him and he loved her better than life. + +The buckboard that waited would convey the two travellers to the stage +line, and once in the stage they would soon reach Denver; from Denver +they would take the cars straight across the plains. + +Mr. Sukolt kissed his daughter’s lips and then, without a word, handed +her over to Mr. Hamilton who lifted her up beside him. + +“Good-by!” she called as the driver whipped up his horse--her face was +turned wistfully toward the Padre. + +“Good-by!” came from the throat of every man in camp. Not a miner moved +till the odd vehicle with its precious burden passed out of sight. + +It was thus that the pet of the Rocky Mountain gold-diggers left them. +She was seated on a wooden box that was marked in big charcoal letters: + + BUSHY SUKOLT, + + New York City. + + +THE END. + +[Illustration: “GOOD-BY!”] + + + + +Bushy Poster + + UNIQUE + ARTISTIC + ATTRACTIVE + FULL OF LIFE + + _PRINTED IN FIVE COLORS_ + + Will be sent, post-paid, on + receipt of price, 25 cents + + [Illustration] + + THE MORSE COMPANY + +PUBLISHERS. + +[Illustration] + + 96 FIFTH AVENUE + NEW YORK + + + + +Transcriber’s Notes + + +The only footnote has been renumbered and moved to the end of its +paragraph. + +This file uses _underscores_ to indicate italic text. + +Illustrations have been moved to the nearest paragraph break. + +Itemized changes from the original text: + + On page 18, changed “half-hour” to “half hour”, + near “he quit wriggling about” + On page 25, changed “or” to “of”, + near “like one ball of fire” + On page 33, changed “horse thief” to “horse-thief”, + near “to be cut down” + On page 45, changed “deer-meat” to “deer meat”, + near “that kept the pot of” + On page 64, changed “buck-board” to “buckboard”, + near “had just arrived in his” + On page 69, changed “breakneck” to “break-neck”, + near “speed up and down the” + On page 70, changed “sun-burnt” to “sunburnt”, + near “face clouded with a frown.” + On page 73, changed “red-skin” to “redskin”, + near “I’d just like to see a” + On page 80, changed “wont” to “won't”, + near “count if you like it.” + On page 95, inserted comma after “a little”, + near “just to calm me down” + On page 98, changed “everyday” to “every-day”, + near “was settling down to” + On page 99, added “to”, + near “and pulling Bushy to one side;” + On page 130, changed “fore-feet” to “fore feet”, + near “in one hand and the” + On page 130, changed “hind-feet” to “hind feet”, + near “in one hand and the” + On page 151, changed “Noon-time” to “Noontime”, + near “and as there were no signs” + On page 152, changed “awhile” to “a while”, + near “fight the Indians off for a while” + On page 154, changed “warwhoops” to “war-whoops”, + near “that chilled the blood” + On page 158, changed “warwhoop” to “war-whoop”, + near “suddenly sounded in front.” + On page 183, added quote mark at end of sentence, + near “even if they should wake and see him.” + On page 191, changed “hand-spring” to “handspring”, + near “in the road in her great delight” + On page 193, changed “ecstacy” to “ecstasy”, + near “half shutting her eyes in the ecstasy of her delight.” + On page 214, changed “wood-work” to “woodwork”, + near “about the mouth of the excavation” + On page 214, changed “wood-work” to “woodwork”, + near “at the opening of the tunnel” + On page 236, changed “rattle-snakes” to “rattlesnakes”, + near “the prairie-dogs and” + On page 251, changed “grocery-store” to “grocery store”, + near “was a long way off” + On page 257, changed “wagon-tongue” to “wagon tongue”, + near “leaning back against the” + On page 276, changed “,” to “”, + near “Bushy still held the end of the rope” + On page 277, changed “cabin-door” to “cabin door”, + near “the next day.” + On page 284, removed comma after “understand”, + near “I can't understand Bushy,” + On page 286, changed “dress-skirt” to “dress skirt”, + near “which she held up to receive” + On page 292, changed “mountain-peaks” to “mountain peaks”, + near “rose high and sharp” + On page 298, changed “gold diggers” to “gold-diggers”, + near “driven out by a set of” + On page 301, changed “” to “"”, + near “Hark, I hear a foot-fall!"” + On page 301, changed “” to “"”, + near “bang! bang!" sounded from” + On page 302, changed “buffalo-robe” to “buffalo robe”, + near “and covered her head and ears.” + On page 308, changed “Any thing” to “Anything”, + near “asked: "Anything happened, Padre?"” + + + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 78043 *** |