Part 8 (1/2)

Accordingly, near the end of September, this faint-hearted cla.s.s inaugurated an hegira back to the Land of the Mother-in-law, and by their haste it was to be inferred that the much-maligned lady of story and song had changed her traditional spots, and now stood waiting to receive them with open hand, on the digital members of which no longer were visible the ”claws” of malicious metaphor.

The long caravan, as it wended its eastward course, was headed by the ”chaince” orator, and the c.o.o.n-skin cap and crank-legged mule, of ”bulljine” memory, guarded the rear of the retreating host.

It appeared as if the exodus of the settlers was regarded as a signal of departure by the gra.s.shoppers also; for one fine morning they rose up in darkening swarms and departed to the south-west.

The Warlow and Moreland families, who had preferred to remain when their more faint-hearted neighbors left, now proceeded to sow their fields in wheat and rye, and the autumn rains and warm suns.h.i.+ne soon clothed the fields with a rank growth of the cereals, which, with the millet, prairie-hay, and the pasture the wheat-fields afforded, served to keep their stock in good condition during the mild winter that followed.

Our friends devoted the early winter to building stone barns and corrals, or pens for the stock, and so busy, indeed, were the energetic settlers that they could scarcely realize that March was with them again; but the way in which that wayward jade proceeded to demonstrate the fact left no doubt in the minds of those who tried to withstand her windy arguments. Although the weather was very dry, the wheat and rye fields were green and rank; but when April pa.s.sed, and had neglected to shed the customary tears over the frolics of her wayward younger sister, and the drouth still continued, even the stoical colonel became alarmed and fearful for the future.

To add to the gloom of the outlook, the warm suns.h.i.+ne had so operated as an incubator that the earth fairly squirmed with the newly hatched brood of young gra.s.shoppers; and as May came on still warm and dry, and the young pests began their dread ravages on the tender young vegetables and fields of grain, then grim famine, with all its horrors, stared the settlers in the face.

But on May 16th, a change was noticed in the atmosphere. The barometer denoted a rain; and as Rob limped about, he said that he could feel a storm in his bones; but Clifford thought that was owing to his tight boots.

A north-east wind began to blow, cold and chilly, and a mist wrapped the earth in its foggy folds until all the hills grew faint and dim; then a fine, drizzling rain followed, which before noon merged into a perfect deluge, and the rivulets as they poured down from the highlands, mingled their gurgling songs with the river's low ba.s.s, raging and roaring over its rocky bed, all making sweet music to the ear of the anxious colonist.

The Warlow homestead stood, as I have heretofore explained, in a grove that grew in the river's bend; and as the house was situated on low ground, some apprehension was felt by the family lest the river should reach the dwelling; and as the barn was on still lower ground, on the bank of the stream, it was suggested that the stock should be taken to the upland pasture; a field that was inclosed with a fence of barbed wire, and connected with the barn-yard by a lane.

Accordingly, Clifford and Rob drove the horses and mules, with the cattle, up to the pasture, and after closing the gate started on their return through the pouring rain; but when they reached the margin of what was, but an hour before, a shallow, gra.s.s-bedded brook, babbling away through the meadow, they found now a wide gla.s.sy stream, to wade which they knew was impossible; so divesting themselves of their superfluous clothing, they tied their boots up in bundles to throw across.

Clifford's budget landed safely; but Rob was not so fortunate, he having undershot the mark, and he cried:--

”There go my Sundiest boots!”

At the rueful outcry, Clifford turned, just in time to see the bobbing bundle disappear in the muddy water.

The boys swam over safely (but Robbie's bundle was not recovered until several days had elapsed, but then found to be sadly water-logged), and as poor Rob stood s.h.i.+vering in the rain, Clifford gave him his overcoat.

”Oh, a fellow only needs a pair of sandals and a plantain-leaf to keep off the dew in this dry region,” said Rob, as he b.u.t.toned the welcome garment around him.

The boys, after changing their wet garments when they reached home, went down into the parlor where Maud sat, tw.a.n.ging her guitar and singing:--

”Oh, gentle, gentle summer rain!

Let not the drooping lily pine;”

But Rob interrupted, and with an air of tragedy, sang:--

”Oh, cats and pitchforks cease to rain And trickle down my chilly spine.”

Then, his mother coming in, he proceeded to tell about their ”cruise,”

and the sad fate of his bundle.

”Oh, you might have been drowned in that horrid stream!” said Maud, dropping her guitar in consternation.

”About the only way a fellow can escape such a fate out-doors to-day is to jump into the river,” said Clifford, in high good-humor. ”Talk about the 'dry belt,'” he continued; ”I hope that geographical girdle will soon prove all too short to span this western 'waste.'”

The colonel, who had just come in, said with an anxious face:--

”I am afraid the only dry belt left by morning will be the upstairs, unless this flood ceases soon.”