The herald. [volume] (New Orleans, La.) 1905-1953, 1911-04-06
The Phantom
Wagon Train
By SALLY MENDAM
Copyright by American Press Asso-
citation. 1911.
By SALLY MENDAM

ed from the western plains l joined
q hunting party to get last crack at
| this noble game. We took the old
| freighting road from St Joseph, Mo-.
| to Denver on which many a wagon
train had passed before the compile
ton of the Union Pacific road as far
| as Laramie enabled merchants TO
transport their goods by a much more
advantageous route. We had been out
but a few days when an old plainsman
wandered into our camp. He was the
ghostliest chap ever saw. He looked
to be very old-how old we could not
tell-and yet he didn't seem to have
any home. So far as we could judge,
he was an inhabitant of the plains.
sometimes living with white men,
sometimes with Indians.
One night after the others had turn
ed in i was before my tent sitting
with the old plainsman smoking when
l heard the creaking Of wagon. II
was bright moonlight, and l saw to-
ward the east what appeared to be an
old fashioned plains schooner-a wag-
on drawn by four CORRESPONDING
toward us. We were a quarter of u
mile from the road on which It was
moving-the old st. Joseph and Den
yer freighting road-so that we got
only a distant view Of the team.
81 didn't know" said TO the plains
man, that wagons pass over this road
since the railroad has been finished"
"They don't; that's the phantom
team"
/ laughed incredulously.
EFF you'd like to hear the story" he
replied, "Fll tell you. But you won't
believe 1t nOhow."
The wagon numbered along west
ward and disappeared. The old plains
man told me the yarn.
Zone mOrnin' about twenty years ago
a spick and span wagon with new
canvas cover drawn by four shiny
horses was ferried across the Missouri
river from st. Joe and struck out for
Denver. Inside was a family of emf
grants. Jim Ringier. the husband and
father, drove, while the mother and
four children were inside. They were
goin' out to make home IN some of
the new territories into which the
western world was divided. There
wasn't anything about the emigrant,
his family, his wagon or his horses
that wasn't prosperous looking. He
had sold out his business and put the
money into this outfit
"Six months from that / met Ringler
movin' south Of Colorado Springs.
His family didn't look so comfortable,
good deal of the paint was wore Off
his wagon, and his horses were lean.
He said he'd been disappointed in find
in a good place to settle. He'd tried
the plains and the mountains. The
plains was too low and the mountains
was too high. He was lookin' for
somethin' intermediate l recommend
ed the foothills, and he said he'd try
'em.
Purity nigh year passed, and 1 met
the Ringler family ag'in in Utah.
L
look like a skeleton, there wasn't bit
Of paint on the wagon, two of the
horses had died, and the other two was
skin and bone. He said he was still
lookin' for place to settle, but hadn't
found anything TO suit him.
1.-THE last time / ever seen Ringers
outfit was after another year had pass
ed. 1t was on this road. The family
had just been murdered by a party of
Indians. The wagon was turned up
side down, the Indians had taken the
horses, and the bodies of Jim Ringler,
his wife and children were layin' be-
side the road scalped. I've seen 'em a
good many times since, always on the
old st. Joe and Denver road headin'
westward. I've often tried to git near
enough to 'em to see eff they was spick
and span like they was when they
started or with the spokes rattlin' from
bein' dried out as they was when the
Indians got 'em."
There was something about the
creaking of the disappearing wagon,
the story and the old plainsman to
make me shudder As for a real wag-
on passing over that deserted thor
oughfare that had been abandoned for
the railroad, 1t did not seem possible
that any emigrant or freighter would
take a route so dangerous and so ex-
pensive. Yet 1 could hear the wagon
rattle, apd, catching a faint view Of
1t In the moonlight, / saw that it was
a veritable schooner of the olden time.
Without a word 1 said good night to
and turned In.
In the morning the old fellow was
not in camp. He had gone without
leave as he had come without invi-
tation.
That day We met some plains peo-
pie. told them about our visitor and
the story he narrated. They had evil
IDENTIFY heard the story before and
seemed to believe in its ghostly at
tributes, for they stood listening to it
In a sort Of fright. When I had fin
ished they asked me to describe the
man who had told 1t.
HE was tall and thin, with a white
beard and hair, a hook nose, not
tooth in his head and glittering eyes,
sunk deep in their sockets. He might
be any age from seventy to hundred.
There was a scar Of a terrible cash
he had received right across his
cheek