The Camden journal. [volume] (Camden, S.C.) 1866-1891, 1890-03-13
A LITTLE MAVERICK,


been cloud of dust in the east like a
column of smoke. No breath of air
stirred it, nor did it seem to advance a
yard. The sky was steely blue, the air
guivered like the white heat from caul-
dron Of molten metal. In the crisp and
dry buffalo grass myraid insect life gave
to the simmering air dreamy, monoto-
nous sound like the humming of far away
bees.
The afternoon passed, darkness gath
cred, and with the rising moon came a
cool wind from of the snow-crestcd
peaks. The cloud of dust subsidized, and
revealed a line of moving, white-covered
wagons.
As the caravan drew near, a gaunt
prairie wolf rose suddenly out of the
grass, gave long, dolorous howl, and
fled across the plain. After him, as if
they had risen from the earth by magic,
went pony and rider, a bronzed, grizzled
old man, as gaunt, and evidently dead
ing the newcomers as much, as the wolf.
The caravan, numbering thirty wagons,
went into camp in the form of hollow
square, the people and animals inside the
barrier of wagons. The sound of voices,
the smell of cooking, the laughter Of
children and the red glow of the camp
fires made a bit of welcome life in the
solemn land, breaking the soundless
monotony of centuries.
Later, when the fires were low, and
when the only noises were the champing
of the animals and the tread of the sentry
on watch, u strange, cl6sh figure ran out
of the stockade and began to dance in
the moonlight-a girl of twelve or therea-
bouts, with big, sparkling eyes and short,
I. black curls flying over her pretty brow.
A bearded face was thrust out under a
wagon cover, and gruff but not un-
kindly voice called ...
"Comc in here, you Maverick, want
the Injuns to git ye7'
The child laughed mockingly, and
continued her dance. After the third
call the big man jumped out of the wagon
and ran after her. When she could run
no longer she dropped like log, re-
naming stiff and still, while he carried
her to the wagon.
"Gritty, amt she, marml" he said, as
the child rolled over like stick of wood.
The lady addressed was tall, thin
person with a wrinkled face, sharp black
eyes behind spectacles, corkscrew curls,
and habit of wearing little shoulder
capes in the hottest weather. She was
New England school teacher going West
to better herself.
Gritty is Western, presume, Mr..
Chase" said the lady, Miss Mary Ann
Reed. "What on earth do you call her
a Maverick for2' Miss Reed clicked her
needles viciously. She knitted all day,
jolting in corner of the wagon, pic
ture of martyrdom.
sin my kentry, Texas" said Chase,
"they calls them stray young cattle thai
don't git branded Maverick 's:they don't
blong to no herd, an them that finds
gifts EN-
'She's got folks in Denver, said Miss
Reed
ri dunno, whispered the man, with
an anxious look toward the sleeping
child. "a feller that met me two days
ago on the east bound wagon train told
me her pa and ma he'd died suddenly, an
the children he'd scattered, an he'd
never heered O. Janet at all. Her
gran 'marm he'd KEEP her from baby, an
the old lady dyin', Janet's uncle Jest
shipped her off to Denver where her
folks was livin'. Don't seem nobody to
take her."
why didn't you send her back with
these folks" asked Miss Reed.
Cause they was only harf way, an
was short for grub; they wouldn't take
her."
Yet the Maverick was a greet grsstsrprson- pet
The The journey. Every one liked her, and
welcomed her bright presence to their
wagons. Around the camp fires even
the men gathered to hear her sing the
quaint old hymns her grandmother had
taught her. She held tired babies till
her little arms were numb, she told
stories to weary children, and was
ministering angel at every wagon-at the
last one in the train most of all
This wagon had joined the train in
Missouri, and belonged to an unfortunate
family that Chase called "Pikcs." The
father, sullen, sickly man, drove the
four lean oxen: the mother, haif-dead
from malaria, seldom lifted her head from
her bed and the nine children, practically
orphans, took care of themselves, and of
little, motherless girl, sent to her father
in Denver
This baby, Rose, was merry little
creature of three, beautiful and winning,
and much liked. But the days were toll
Bome ones, and as the Browns had charge
of her, no one interfered, though many of
the party wondered who could have
trusted her with them.
The two younger Browns, homely,
faded little souls. were faithful guar
dians over her. The other children were
unruly and rude, but these two seemed
like some good old folks who had lived
out well-rounded lives and been trans
lated back to earth to begin over again.
To these children Janet's presence was
the one happiness of their day, nor
could she could tell stories enough to
satisfy them. Once Janet, coming un-
observed, heard the youngest Pike tel
ing baby Rose, who was cross, one of
her own stories.
"You sorrerful little things" cried
Janet, "can't you make 'cm up your
selves of your own?"
For week, at night, the sentry at the