the jacket (the star-rover)-第29章

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were　vain。　　They　denied　us　harshly；　and　wanted　to　know　who　of　us　had

sold　them　food　when　we　drove　them　from　Missouri。　　It　was　useless　on

our　part　to　tell　them　we　were　from　Arkansas。　　From　Arkansas　we　truly

were；　but　they　insisted　on　our　being　Missourians。



At　Beaver；　five　days'　journey　south　from　Fillmore；　we　saw　Lee　again。

And　again　we　saw　hard…ridden　horses　tethered　before　the　houses。　　But

we　did　not　see　Lee　at　Parowan。



Cedar　City　was　the　last　settlement。　　Laban；　who　had　ridden　on　ahead；

came　back　and　reported　to　father。　　His　first　news　was　significant。



〃I　seen　that　Lee　skedaddling　out　as　I　rid　in；　Captain。　　An'　there's

more　men…folk　an'　horses　in　Cedar　City　than　the　size　of　the　place　'd

warrant。〃



But　we　had　no　trouble　at　the　settlement。　　Beyond　refusing　to　sell　us

food；　they　left　us　to　ourselves。　　The　women　and　children　stayed　in

the　houses；　and　though　some　of　the　men　appeared　in　sight　they　did

not；　as　on　former　occasions；　enter　our　camp　and　taunt　us。



It　was　at　Cedar　City　that　the　Wainwright　baby　died。　　I　remember　Mrs。

Wainwright　weeping　and　pleading　with　Laban　to　try　to　get　some　cow's

milk。



〃It　may　save　the　baby's　life；〃　she　said。　　〃And　they've　got　cow's

milk。　　I　saw　fresh　cows　with　my　own　eyes。　　Go　on；　please；　Laban。　　It

won't　hurt　you　to　try。　　They　can　only　refuse。　　But　they　won't。　　Tell

them　it's　for　a　baby；　a　wee　little　baby。　　Mormon　women　have　mother's

hearts。　　They　couldn't　refuse　a　cup　of　milk　for　a　wee　little　baby。〃



And　Laban　tried。　　But；　as　he　told　father　afterward；　he　did　not　get

to　see　any　Mormon　women。　　He　saw　only　the　Mormon　men；　who　turned　him

away。



This　was　the　last　Mormon　outpost。　　Beyond　lay　the　vast　desert；　with；

on　the　other　side　of　it；　the　dream　land；　ay；　the　myth　land；　of

California。　　As　our　wagons　rolled　out　of　the　place　in　the　early

morning　I；　sitting　beside　my　father　on　the　driver's　seat；　saw　Laban

give　expression　to　his　feelings。　　We　had　gone　perhaps　half　a　mile；

and　were　topping　a　low　rise　that　would　sink　Cedar　City　from　view；

when　Laban　turned　his　horse　around；　halted　it；　and　stood　up　in　the

stirrups。　　Where　he　had　halted　was　a　new…made　grave；　and　I　knew　it

for　the　Wainwright　baby'snot　the　first　of　our　graves　since　we　had

crossed　the　Wasatch　mountains。



He　was　a　weird　figure　of　a　man。　　Aged　and　lean；　long…faced；　hollow…

checked；　with　matted；　sunburnt　hair　that　fell　below　the　shoulders　of

his　buckskin　shirt；　his　face　was　distorted　with　hatred　and　helpless

rage。　　Holding　his　long　rifle　in　his　bridle…hand；　he　shook　his　free

fist　at　Cedar　City。



〃God's　curse　on　all　of　you！〃　he　cried　out。　　〃On　your　children；　and

on　your　babes　unborn。　　May　drought　destroy　your　crops。　　May　you　eat

sand　seasoned　with　the　venom　of　rattlesnakes。　　May　the　sweet　water

of　your　springs　turn　to　bitter　alkali。　　May　。　。　。〃



Here　his　words　became　indistinct　as　our　wagons　rattled　on；　but　his

heaving　shoulders　and　brandishing　fist　attested　that　he　had　only

begun　to　lay　the　curse。　　That　he　expressed　the　general　feeling　in

our　train　was　evidenced　by　the　many　women　who　leaned　from　the

wagons；　thrusting　out　gaunt　forearms　and　shaking　bony；　labour…

malformed　fists　at　the　last　of　Mormondom。　　A　man；　who　walked　in　the

sand　and　goaded　the　oxen　of　the　wagon　behind　ours；　laughed　and　waved

his　goad。　　It　was　unusual；　that　laugh；　for　there　had　been　no

laughter　in　our　train　for　many　days。



〃Give　'm　hell；　Laban；〃　he　encouraged。　　〃Them's　my　sentiments。〃



And　as　our　train　rolled　on　I　continued　to　look　back　at　Laban；

standing　in　his　stirrups　by　the　baby's　grave。　　Truly　he　was　a　weird

figure；　with　his　long　hair；　his　moccasins；　and　fringed　leggings。　　So

old　and　weather…beaten　was　his　buckskin　shirt　that　ragged　filaments；

here　and　there；　showed　where　proud　fringes　once　had　been。　　He　was　a

man　of　flying　tatters。　　I　remember；　at　his　waist；　dangled　dirty

tufts　of　hair　that；　far　back　in　the　journey；　after　a　shower　of　rain；

were　wont　to　show　glossy　black。　　These　I　knew　were　Indian　scalps；

and　the　sight　of　them　always　thrilled　me。



〃It　will　do　him　good；〃　father　commended；　more　to　himself　than　to　me。

〃I've　been　looking　for　days　for　him　to　blow　up。〃



〃I　wish　he'd　go　back　and　take　a　couple　of　scalps；〃　I　volunteered。



My　father　regarded　me　quizzically。



〃Don't　like　the　Mormons；　eh；　son？〃



I　shook　my　head　and　felt　myself　swelling　with　the　inarticulate　hate

that　possessed　me。



〃When　I　grow　up；〃　I　said；　after　a　minute；　〃I'm　goin'　gunning　for

them。〃



〃You；　Jesse！〃　came　my　mother's　voice　from　inside　the　wagon。　　〃Shut

your　mouth　instanter。〃　　And　to　my　father：　　〃You　ought　to　be　ashamed

letting　the　boy　talk　on　like　that。〃



Two　days'　journey　brought　us　to　Mountain　Meadows；　and　here；　well

beyond　the　last　settlement；　for　the　first　time　we　did　not　form　the

wagon…circle。　　The　wagons　were　roughly　in　a　circle；　but　there　were

many　gaps；　and　the　wheels　were　not　chained。　　Preparations　were　made

to　stop　a　week。　　The　cattle　must　be　rested　for　the　real　desert；

though　this　was　desert　enough　in　all　seeming。　　The　same　low　hills　of

sand　were　about　us；　but　sparsely　covered　with　scrub　brush。　　The　flat

was　sandy；　but　there　was　some　grassmore　than　we　had　encountered　in

many　days。　　Not　more　than　a　hundred　feet　from　camp　was　a　weak　spring

that　barely　supplied　human　needs。　　But　farther　along　the　bottom

various　other　weak　springs　emerged　from　the　hillsides；　and　it　was　at

these　that　the　cattle　watered。



We　made　camp　early　that　day；　and；　because　of　the　programme　to　stay　a

week；　there　was　a　general　overhauling　of　soiled　clothes　by　the

women；　who　planned　to　start　washing　on　the　morrow。　　Everybody　worked

till　nightfall。　　While　some　of　the　men　mended　harness　others

repaired　the　frames　and　ironwork　of　the　wagons。　　Them　was　much

heating　and　hammering　of　iron　and　tightening　of　bolts　and　nuts。　　And

I　remember　coming　upon　Laban；　sitting　cross…legged　in　the　shade　of　a

wagon　and　sewing　away　till　nightfall　on　a　new　pair　of　moccasins。　　He

was　the　only　man　in　our　train　who　wore　moccasins　and　buckskin；　and　I

have　an　impression　that　he　had　not　belonged　to　our　company　when　it

left　Arkansas。　　Also；　he　had　neither　wife；　nor　family；　nor　wagon　of

his　own。　　All　he　possessed　was　his　horse；　his　rifle；　the　clothes　he

stood　up　in；　and　a　couple　of　blankets　that　were　hauled　in　the　Mason

wagon。



Next　morning　it　was　that　our　doom　fell。　　Two　days'　journey　beyond

the　last　Mormon　outpost；　knowing　that　no　Indians　were　about　and

apprehending　nothing　from　the　Indians　on　any　count；　for　the　first

time　we　had　not　chained　our　wagons　in　the　solid　circle；　placed

guards　on　the　cattle；　nor　set　a　night…watch。



My　awakening　was　like　a　nightmare。　　It　came　as　a　sudden　blast　of

sound。　　I　was　only　stupidly　awake　for　the　first　moments　and　did

nothing　except　to　try　to　analyze　and　identify　the　various　noises

that　went　to　compose　the　blast　that　continued　without　let　up。　　I

could　hear　near　and　distant　explosions　of　rifles；　shouts　and　curses

of　men；　women　screaming；　and　children　bawling。　　Then　I　could　make

out　the　thuds　and　squeals　of　bullets　that　hit　wood　and　iron　in　the

wheels　and　under…construction　of　the　wagon。　　Whoever　it　was　that　was

shooting；　the　aim　was　too　low。　　When　I　started　to　rise；　my　mother；

evidently　just　in　the　act　of　dressing；　pressed　me　down　with　her

hand。　　Father；　already　up　and　about；　at　this　stage　erupted　into　the

wagon。



〃Out　of　it！〃　he　shouted。　　〃Quick！　　To　the　ground！〃



He　wasted　no　time。　　With　a　hook…like　clutch　that　was　almost　a　blow；

so　swift　was　it；　he　flung　me　bodily　out　of　the　rear　end　of　the

wagon。　　I　had　barely　time　to　crawl　out　from　under　when　father；

mother；　and　the　baby　came　down　pell…mell　where　I　had　been。



〃Here；　Jesse！〃　father　shouted　to　me；　and　I　joined　him　in　scooping

out　sand　behind　the　shelter　of　a　wagon…wheel。　　We　worked　bare…handed

and　wildly。　　Mother　joined　in。



〃Go　ahead　and　make　it　deeper；　Jesse；〃　father　ordered；



He　stood　up　and　rushed　away