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The Young Adventurer: Tom's Trip Across the Plain, a novel by Horatio Alger |
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Chapter 26. Mr. Peabody Is Worsted |
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_ CHAPTER XXVI. MR. PEABODY IS WORSTED The traveler of to-day who is whirled across the continent in six days and a half has little conception of what the overland journey was in the year 1850. Week after week and month after month slipped away between the start and the arrival on the western slope of the Sierra Nevadas. Delicate women and children of tender years developed extraordinary endurance, and showed remarkable fortitude on the wearisome trip. But the hope of bettering their fortunes was the magnet that drew them steadily on, day after day, in their march across the plains. Tom was at an age when adventure has a charm. His feet were often weary; but he never tired of the journey. Every morning found him active, alert, and ready for the toilsome walk. He was, indeed, impatient for the time to come when he could be earning something to pay up his debt to Squire Hudson, and so relieve his father from the additional burden assumed for his sake. Otherwise he was quite content to plod on, seeing something new every day. "You're always cheerful, Tom, my lad," said Ferguson, one day. "Yes," said Tom. "I am having a good time." "Youth is aye the time for enjoyment. When I was a lad like you I might have been the same." "Don't you enjoy the journey, Mr. Ferguson?" asked Tom. "I'm getting tired of it, Tom. I look upon it as a means to an end. I'm in a hurry to reach the mines." "So am I, Mr. Ferguson, for that matter." "And I can't help thinking, what if they don't turn out as well as we expect? Then there'll be months lost, besides a good bit of money," replied Ferguson. "Oh, I'm sure there is plenty of gold, and we shall get our share," said Tom confidently; "that is, if we have our health." "I hope it'll be as you say, my lad. Indeed, I think you are right. You have taught me a lesson." "Have I, Mr. Ferguson? What is it?" "Always to look on the bright side. It is a lesson worth learning. It makes a man feel happier, and often gives courage to press on to the accomplishment of his purpose." "I suppose it is natural to me," said Tom. "It is a happy gift. It is a pity that poor creature from Boston hadn't it." Lawrence Peabody was approaching, and this no doubt led to the allusion. He was limping along, looking decidedly down in the mouth, which, indeed, was not unusual. "What is the matter with you, Mr. Peabody?" asked Tom. "I'm almost gone," groaned Peabody. "My strength is exhausted, and, besides, I've got a terrible corn on my left foot." "How long has that been?" "For two or three days. It's torture for me to walk. I don't know but you'll have to leave me here on the prairie to perish." "Not so bad as that, Mr. Peabody, I hope. Perhaps Mr. Chapman will lend you his donkey to ride upon." The owner of the donkey was within hearing distance, and at once expressed a willingness to lend his animal to Mr. Peabody. "That will be better than perishing on the prairies," said Tom cheerfully. "I am not much used to riding," said Peabody cautiously. "He won't run away with you, Peabody," said the owner. "He's too lazy." Lawrence Peabody was already aware of this fact, and it gave him courage to accept the offered help. He mounted Solomon--as the donkey was called, for some unknown reason--and for a time enjoyed the relief from the toil of walking. He became quite cheerful, and was disposed to congratulate himself upon his success, when an unfortunate fit of obstinacy came over Solomon. It dawned upon the sagacious animal that it would be much easier to travel without a load, and, turning his head, he looked thoughtfully at his rider. "Get up, Solomon!" exclaimed Peabody, striking the animal on the haunch. Solomon felt that this was taking a personal liberty and he stood stock-still, his face expressive of obstinacy. "Why don't he go on?" asked Peabody, perplexed. "He's stopping to rest," said Tom. "I am afraid he is lazy." "Go along!" exclaimed Peabody, again using his whip. But the animal did not budge. "This is really very provoking," murmured the rider. "What shall I do?" "Don't give up to him," advised one of the company. "Here, let me whip him." "Thank you; I wish you would." It was an unlucky speech. The other complied with the request, and delivered his blow with such emphasis that Solomon's equanimity was seriously disturbed. He dashed forward with what speed he could command, Mr. Peabody holding on, in a sort of panic, till he was a hundred yards away. Then he stopped suddenly, lowering his head, and his hapless rider was thrown over it, landing some distance in advance. Solomon looked at him with grim humor, if a donkey is capable of such a feeling, and, apparently satisfied, turned and walked complacently back to the wagon-train. Several of the company, witnessing the accident, hurried forward to Mr. Peabody's assistance. They picked him up, groaning and bewildered, but not much hurt. "None of your limbs broken," said Miles. "I guess you'll do." "I'm badly shaken up," moaned Peabody. "It will do you good," said Miles bluntly. "You had better try it yourself, then," retorted Peabody, with unwonted spirit. "Good for you!" laughed Miles. "I suspect you are not dead yet." "What made you put me on such a vicious beast?" asked Peabody of the owner. "Solomon isn't vicious; he's only lazy," said Chapman. "We can't blame him much." "I think he ought to be shot," said Peabody, painfully rising, and stretching out one limb after another to make sure that none was broken. "You seem to be unlucky, Mr. Peabody," said Tom. "I'm always unlucky," moaned Peabody. "Will you ride again, Mr. Peabody?" asked Chapman. "I'll catch Solomon for you, if you like." "Not for fifty dollars!" exclaimed Peabody energetically. "It is as much as anybody's life is worth." "If you will make me the same offer, I won't refuse, Mr. Chapman," said Tom. "You can mount him, if you like." Tom waited for no second invitation. He approached Solomon cautiously, vaulted upon his back, and the animal, disagreeably surprised, had recourse to the same tactics which had proved so successful in the case of the young man from Boston. But he had a different kind of a rider to deal with. Tom had been accustomed to ride from the time he was six years of age, and he stuck to his seat in spite of all attempts to dislodge him. So far from feeling alarmed, he enjoyed the struggle. "It's no go, Solomon!" he said gaily. "You've tackled the wrong customer this time. Better make up your mind to go as I want you to." Solomon came to the same conclusion after a time. He had tried his ordinary tactics, and they had proved unavailing. The struggle had been witnessed with some interest by the other members of the company. "You can ride, youngster; that's a fact," said the owner of the donkey. "I didn't say anything, but I rather expected to see you follow Peabody." "I'm used to riding," said Tom modestly. "Mr. Peabody is not." "Every lad ought to know how to ride," said Ferguson. "It's a deal manlier than smoking a cigar, to my thinking." "I can smoke a cigar," said Peabody, desirous probably of appearing to possess one manly accomplishment. "You will hardly find it as useful as riding in the new country you are going to, Mr. Peabody," said Ferguson dryly. "I'd give something for a good cigar myself," said John Miles. "I prefer riding," said Tom. "I never smoked a cigar in my life." "You are just as well off without it, my lad," said the Scotchman. "It don't do men any good, and always harms boys." Peabody never again mounted Solomon. One trial was sufficient, and, footsore and lame as he was, he decidedly preferred to walk. _ |
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