Contents ▼▲
Front Matter A Change of Homes "Joe Bowers" The Reasons for Moving Mother's Anxiety How we were to Travel Our Movable Home Leaving Ashley Eben Jordan On the Road Eben's Predictions What about California The First Encampment Night in Camp The Town of Independence Kansas Indians Looking into the Future A Stormy Day A Lack of Fuel Making Camp in a Storm A Thunderstorm Another Company of Pikers The Stock Stray Away An Indian Village I Weary with Traveling Eben's Boasts Suffering with Thirst In Search of Water Quenching Our Thirst Making Butter A Kansas Ferry At Soldier Creek Bread Making Prairie Peas Eben as a Hunter A Herd of Buffaloes Excitement in the Camp A Feast of Buffalo Meat Curing the Meat A Wash Day Uncomfortable Traveling Ellen's Advice Indians and Mosquitoes Prairie Dogs Colonel Russell's Mishap Chimney Rock At Fort Laramie Cooking in a Fireplace Trappers, Hunters, Indians On the Trail Once More Independence Rock Arrival at Fort Bridger Toward California At Bear River The Coming of Winter Utah Indians A Dangerous Trail Sunflower Seeds and Antelope A Forest Fire The Great Salt Lake Eben as a Fisherman Grasshopper Jam A Deserted Village The Great Salt Desert A Dangerous Journey Bread and Coffee Making Breaking Camp at Midnight Approaching the Salt Desert A Plain of Salt Like A Sea of Frozen Milk Salt Dust A Bitter Disappointment Coffee instead of Water A Spring of Sweet Water The Oasis Searching for Water The Beautiful Valley Snake Indians A Scarcity of Food Springs of Hot Water In the Land of Plenty The Truckee River The Sacramento Valley The Mission of San Jose Our Home in California

Martha of California - James Otis




Making Camp in a Storm

Determined as I was to make the best of whatever might happen, I could not but be disheartened when, nearly at nightfall, we halted to make camp again. The rain was still descending like a cloud-burst; everything around us, including the bedding, seemed saturated with water.

Yet I saw the men spread the thin cloth tents, after the wagons had been drawn up in a circle, or made into a corral as the travelers on the trail call it, I saw them wade ankle deep in the mud, but with never an impatient word or gesture. It appeared sufficient to them if their women and children could enjoy some little degree of comfort.

[Illustration] from Martha of California by James Otis

Again we strove to do our cooking under the wagon covers, and again we were in need of fuel. Ellen and I, with the skirts of our gowns over our heads for protection, scurried here and there, picking up twigs and crying out with delight when we came upon a piece of wood as large as one's fist.

You can well imagine what kind of supper we had that night. The inside of the wagon was filled with smoke, for the short length of stovepipe did not afford a strong draft, and mother labored, with the tears streaming down her cheeks, to fry as much bacon as would satisfy our hunger.

The smoke was so dense that we all wept, smiling even in the midst of our seeming tears when father said, after he had milked the cows and had brought in quite as much water as milk, that it was a question with him whether he could stand better the smoke or the rain. He was inclined to think he had rather be soaked with water than cured like a ham.

Again Eben Jordan showed his kindness of heart, for he insisted upon helping this man and that, milk the cows and herd the oxen and sheep, and he did whatever came to his hand, all the while humming "Joe Bowers."

When Eben came into our wagon later in the evening, Ellen and I treated him very kindly, for we were coming to understand that this boy, who found so much pleasure in vexing us girls, was ever ready to do a good turn to another, even when it cost him much labor and discomfort.