The Manitowoc pilot. [volume] (Manitowoc, Wis.) 1859-1932, 1908-08-27
THE LAST TRIP
OF LITTLE BETSY
BY HOWARD E. MORTON
Copyright. by Skortstory Pub. Coz


no use O. loafin' Go long, Miss Fan
ME. Jes' looka Miss Jennie. She's
done run clear way an mos pull her
purity neck off Go long, Miss Fan.
ME, go long"
An old negro, with white hair that
fell almost to his shoulders, sat on
the high scar of heavy mountain
wagon, and after having thus deliv-
cred himself to the off leader of r.
mule team, relapsed into silence. Miss
Fannie seemed to understand the re-
buke. for she laid back her long ears,
snorted resentfully and trotted along
for some distance at pace that kept
her chime bells and trace chains
jingling merrily. The negro smiled
approvingly and gazed aimlessly up
the hot, dusty road which wound and
undulated among the foothills.
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 a
time in his young days on the old Cali
fornia ranches, when some wild bron-
co, fresh from the range, defied 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 a living
as a horse breaker.
On the first day of each month the
quicksilver output of the New ldria
mines was shipped to the metropolis.
The heavy iron TASKS. filled with the
metallic fluid were loaded into Black
Jim's big wagon at the refinery and
then Jim and his mules would clatter
away through the town on hundred
ndtwenty -fye-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
and the animals. This was
packed in a small light rig, the tongue
of which was coupled to the heavier
wagon with a stout chain. Jim called
his smaller vehicle Little Betsy, to dis
tinguish It from Big Betsy, which car
ried the quicksilver. and in it he
slowed his supply Of hay and grain,
blankets and transfers 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.
1t was on one of these monthly trips
that Black Jim found it 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 merry staccato
rattle. The road wound higher and
higher among the mountains and the
level floor of the San Benito valley
had long since disappeared behind the
foothills 1t was midsummer, and the
sun beat down at its fiercest. There
was no breeze to stir the air and the
heavy adobe dust kicked up by the
mules hung in a thick, choking cloud
about the outfit. Jim amused himself
for a time clipping off 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 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 up" And as the dust
cleared away, man with double
barreled shotgun at his shoulder grad
ually took shape at the side of the
road
'Dey's up, dey's up! Put down de
Gun. fo' de Lords sake! Dey's up"
Two dark brown palms were raised
skvward. The man lowered the gun
and looked searchingly into the ebony
face.
The man was tall and roughly
dressed and his features We're masked
by 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
an eve. emerged from behind the lead
crs heads and the two held whis-
pered consultation. Jim sat on the
high seat with appraised hands watch
Ing them covertly, his small eyes still
blinking. The men conversed for a
few moments and then the one with
the gun advanced and propped up his
foot 81 the spokes of the forewheel
Look here-you," he said savagely,
his fingers playing with the trigger Of
the weapon that lay across his knee.
kin YOU drive this here outfit over
rr,ty,,,, Ont in the dark ?"