Bushy

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.

“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.

“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.