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The frosty fields were glittering in the slant rays of the newly risen sun, and sounds of busy life came floating through the crisp air, telling the old man that the day's labor had begun. The sharp crack of the teamster's whip told that the great ox wagons were already afield.
But John Paul minded them not so much as a swarm of flies, and the teamster's account of the happenings at Kirkcudbright had given them so wholesome a fear of his speech and presence as to cause them to misdoubt their own wit, which is saying a deal of Scotchmen.
I'm sellin' my silk slow every day I work. See that little finger?" He shifted the reins to one hand for a moment and held up the free hand for inspection. "I can't straighten it like the others, an' it's growin'. I never put it out fightin'. The teamin's done it. That's silk gone across the counter, that's all. Ever see a old four-horse teamster's hands?
The negro whip is the common teamster's whip with a black leather stock, and a short, fine, knotted lash. The paddle is also frequently used, sometimes with holes bored in the flattened end. I have known some use shovel and tongs. It is, however, more common to commit them to the driver to be whipped.
On foot, with nothing to eat, and only an occasional hitch behind a friendly teamster's wagon, he bravely made his way to Bismarck, fifty miles distant where, after nearly starving to death, he enlisted the sympathies of a kindly grocer, who gave him two dollars a week and his board to run errands. This was not much better than what he had escaped from, but John did not care.
I'll tell you what, if you are able and willing to preach a sound, old-fashioned, blue-blazes, and brimstone sermon, you will get an audience. I would like to hear a real scorcher, once more." So far from being encouraged the missionary hastily sought Gerrish and departed on that worthy teamster's return trip to Boston.
The teamster looked back and merely nodded his appreciation, and with a "Gee up! Out of that, now!" the skids moved on. "Much obliged, there!" said a hearty voice, as if supplementing the teamster's imperfect acknowledgment. The stranger looked up.
"It's no use asking you where we are now, I suppose?" it said in a peevish tone. But the teamster's mood was its match. "Not a heap, I guess, ma'm," he retorted, and gave up his attention to avoiding the precipice on his right. "How far is the place supposed to be?" The woman's unease was very evident. Her eyes were upon the darkening walls of the canyon toward which they were traveling.
He had done all that he could on the journey to lighten the labor of those attached to his own wagon. He had restrained as much as possible the St. Vitus Dance of the teamster's keen whip, uselessly remonstrated with him against his profanity, carried a rail to help pry the wheels out of the mudholes, and got behind and pushed going up the steep hills.
Let me get a good look into his eye when he talks and in half a minute I'll know whether to hire him or pass him on to you fellows. Here he comes now." Bill took keen delight in showing the two lumbermen about the camp. "What's the idea of the ell on the bunk-house?" asked Appleton. "Teamster's bunk-house," replied the foreman.
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