The Chickasha daily express. (Chickasha, Indian Territory [Okla.]) 1899-current, 1908-06-30
The Last Trip Of Little Betsy
By Howard E. Morton


done run clear way an mos pull her
purity neck of. Go long, Miss Fan
ME, go long"
An old negro, with white hair that
fell almost to his shoulders, sat on
the high seat Of a heavy mountain
wagon, and after having thus deliv-
cred himself to the of leader OF 12-
mule team, relapsed into silence,
Black Jim, for that was the only
name he had known for nearly 40
years, prided himself on his ability
to handle horses and mules. Many
time In his young days on the old Cali
fornia ranches, when some wild bron-
co, fresh from the range, defed every
vaquero in the corral, Black Jim
mounted the animal and brought 1t
back in half an hour thoroughly
tanned and tractable His fame was
known through more than one Califor-
mia county and for years he travelled
from ranch to ranch earning living
as horse breaker
On the first day Of each month the
quicksilver output of the New Idria
mines was shipped to the metropolis
The heavy iron TASKS, filled with the
metallic fluid. we're loaded into Black
Jim's big wagon at the refinery and
then Jim and his mules would clatter
away through the town on hundred
and-twenty-five-mile drive to Moss
Landing, on Monterey bay. The trip,
down across the San Benito valley
and over the range Of low mountains
that fringes the shore of the Pacific,
usually occupied five or six days, and
1t was necessary to take food for
himself and the animals. This was
packed In small, light rig, the tongue
Of which was coupled to the heavier
wagon with stout chain. Jim called
his smaller vehicle Little Betsy, to dis
tinguish 1t from Big Betsy, which car
ried the quicksilver, and In It he
slowed his supply Of hay and grain,
blankets and teamster's paraphernalia
besides enough provisions to suffice
for the journey. At Moss Landing Jim
would deliver the shipment to the
captain Of little coasting schooner,
who took It up to San Francisco.
It was on one Of these monthly trips
that Black Jim found 1t necessary to
rebuke Miss Fannie for tagging be-
hind her running mate.
Big Betsy rumbled briskly along
for some miles and Little Betsy
trailed behind with a merry staccato
rattle The road wound higher and
higher among the mountains and the
level floor Of the San Benito valley
hsd long since disappeared behind the
foothills. II was midsummer, and the
sun beat down at its fercest There
was no breeze to stir the air and the
heavy adobe dust kicked up by the
mules hung in thick, choking cloud
about the OUTFIT. Jim amused himself
for e time clipping Of the tops Of
wild flowers with the lash OF his long
whip, but as the heat became more
and more oppressive he closed his
eyes and finally drowsed.
He was awakened suddenly from
his nap by a snort from the leaders.
followed by the crisp command:
Hands up!"
Jim rubbed his eyes stupidity and
stared ahead through the cloud Of dust.
The wheel mules were bumped up in
their breeching, with the rest Of the
team backed in against them CON
fusedly. The leaders were kicking and
sQuealing. Again the voice said
sharply:
Hands upl' And as the dust
cleared away. a man with a double
barreled shotgun at his shoulder grad
ually took shape at the side of the
road.
''Dey's up, dey's up. Pl, down de
gun, 70 de Lords sakel Dey's upl'
Two dark brown palms we're raised
skyward The man lowered the gun
and looked searchingly into the ebony
face.
The man was tall and roughly
dressed and his features were masked
by a thick, matted black beard that
covered the face almost to the points
OF the cheek bones Another man,
shorter than the first, swarthy like an
Indian, and hideous from the loss Of
On eye, emerged from behind the lead.
ers' heads and the two held a whis-
pered consultation. Jim sat ON the
high seat with appraised hands watch.
ing them covertly, his small eyes still
blinking The men conyersed for a
few moments and then the one with
the gun advanced and propped up his
foot on the sDokes OF the forewheel
Look heFe-you," he said savsgely,
his fingers playing with the trigger Of
the weapon that lay across his knee.
Kin you drive this here outfit over
fuckers Cut In the dark?"
Jim looked down at the shotgun
and then at the one-eyed man, whose
single orb giared at him ominously
from under the dirty remnant OF a
Mexican sombrero.
Il Amt gone an train desc yere
mules To- nothin'," was the enigmati-
cal reply The man below made a
gesture Of satisfaction.
sWall that's what We want I,ef's