the jacket (the star-rover)-第21章

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Again　it　was　long　hours　of　parching　heat　and　biting　dust；　sage…brush

and　sand；　and　a　land　accursed。　　No　dwellings　of　men；　neither　cattle

nor　fences；　nor　any　sign　of　human　kind；　did　we　encounter　all　that

day；　and　at　night　we　made　our　wagon…circle　beside　an　empty　stream；

in　the　damp　sand　of　which　we　dug　many　holes　that　filled　slowly　with

water　seepage。



Our　subsequent　journey　is　always　a　broken　experience　to　me。　　We　made

camp　so　many　times；　always　with　the　wagons　drawn　in　circle；　that　to

my　child　mind　a　weary　long　time　passed　after　Nephi。　　But　always；

strong　upon　all　of　us；　was　that　sense　of　drifting　to　an　impending

and　certain　doom。



We　averaged　about　fifteen　miles　a　day。　　I　know；　for　my　father　had

said　it　was　sixty　miles　to　Fillmore；　the　next　Mormon　settlement；　and

we　made　three　camps　on　the　way。　　This　meant　four　days　of　travel。

From　Nephi　to　the　last　camp　of　which　I　have　any　memory　we　must　have

taken　two　weeks　or　a　little　less。



At　Fillmore　the　inhabitants　were　hostile；　as　all　had　been　since　Salt

Lake。　　They　laughed　at　us　when　we　tried　to　buy　food；　and　were　not

above　taunting　us　with　being　Missourians。



When　we　entered　the　place；　hitched　before　the　largest　house　of　the

dozen　houses　that　composed　the　settlement　were　two　saddle…horses；

dusty；　streaked　with　sweat；　and　drooping。　　The　old　man　I　have

mentioned；　the　one　with　long；　sunburnt　hair　and　buckskin　shirt　and

who　seemed　a　sort　of　aide　or　lieutenant　to　father；　rode　close　to　our

wagon　and　indicated　the　jaded　saddle…animals　with　a　cock　of　his

head。



〃Not　sparin'　horseflesh；　Captain；〃　he　muttered　in　a　low　voice。　　〃An'

what　in　the　name　of　Sam　Hill　are　they　hard…riding　for　if　it　ain't

for　us？〃



But　my　father　had　already　noted　the　condition　of　the　two　animals；

and　my　eager　eyes　had　seen　him。　　And　I　had　seen　his　eyes　flash；　his

lips　tighten；　and　haggard　lines　form　for　a　moment　on　his　dusty　face。

That　was　all。　　But　I　put　two　and　two　together；　and　knew　that　the　two

tired　saddle…horses　were　just　one　more　added　touch　of　ominousness　to

the　situation。



〃I　guess　they're　keeping　an　eye　on　us；　Laban；〃　was　my　father's　sole

comment。



It　was　at　Fillmore　that　I　saw　a　man　that　I　was　to　see　again。　　He　was

a　tall；　broad…shouldered　man；　well　on　in　middle　age；　with　all　the

evidence　of　good　health　and　immense　strengthstrength　not　alone　of

body　but　of　will。　　Unlike　most　men　I　was　accustomed　to　about　me；　he

was　smooth…shaven。　　Several　days'　growth　of　beard　showed　that　he　was

already　well…grayed。　　His　mouth　was　unusually　wide；　with　thin　lips

tightly　compressed　as　if　he　had　lost　many　of　his　front　teeth。　　His

nose　was　large；　square；　and　thick。　　So　was　his　face　square；　wide

between　the　cheekbones；　underhung　with　massive　jaws；　and　topped　with

a　broad；　intelligent　forehead。　　And　the　eyes；　rather　small；　a　little

more　than　the　width　of　an　eye　apart；　were　the　bluest　blue　I　had　ever

seen。



It　was　at　the　flour…mill　at　Fillmore　that　I　first　saw　this　man。

Father；　with　several　of　our　company；　had　gone　there　to　try　to　buy

flour；　and　I；　disobeying　my　mother　in　my　curiosity　to　see　more　of

our　enemies；　had　tagged　along　unperceived。　　This　man　was　one　of　four

or　five　who　stood　in　a　group　with　the　miller　during　the　interview。



〃You　seen　that　smooth…faced　old　cuss？〃　Laban　said　to　father；　after

we　had　got　outside　and　were　returning　to　camp。



Father　nodded。



〃Well；　that's　Lee；〃　Laban　continued。　　〃I　seen'm　in　Salt　Lake。　　He's

a　regular　son…of…a…gun。　　Got　nineteen　wives　and　fifty　children；　they

all　say。　　An'　he's　rank　crazy　on　religion。　　Now；　what's　he　followin'

us　up　for　through　this　God…forsaken　country？〃



Our　weary；　doomed　drifting　went　on。　　The　little　settlements；

wherever　water　and　soil　permitted；　were　from　twenty　to　fifty　miles

apart。　　Between　stretched　the　barrenness　of　sand　and　alkali　and

drought。　　And　at　every　settlement　our　peaceful　attempts　to　buy　food

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