Boy Land Boomer; Or, Dick Arbuckle's Adventures in Oklahoma
Edward Stratemeyer
Produced by David Edwards, Marcia and the Online DistributedProofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file wasproduced from images generously made available by TheInternet Archive/American Libraries.)
THE BOYLAND BOOMER
OR
DICK ARBUCKLE'SADVENTURES IN OKLAHOMA
BY
CAPTAIN RALPH BONEHILL
AUTHOR OF
"THREE YOUNG RANCHMEN,""A SAILOR BOY WITH DEWEY," ETC.
"The youth had to cling fast around his neck to savehimself a lot of broken bones"]
ILLUSTRATED BY W. H. FRY
H. M. CALDWELL COMPANYNEW YORK Publishers BOSTON
COPYRIGHT, 1902,BYTHE SAALFIELD PUBLISHING COMPANY
Made byRobert Smith Printing Co.,Lansing, Mich.
---------------Transcriber's Note: Obvious printer errors have been corrected. Allother inconsistencies have been left as they were in the original.---------------
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
PAGE
"The youth had to cling fast around his neck to savehimself a lot of broken bones" _Frontispiece_
"The next instant the boy was hurled headlong intothe boiling and foaming current" 62
"Dick had let fly the jagged stone, taking him directlyin the forehead and keeling him over like a tenpin" 179
"In a second more the two men were in a hand-to-handencounter" 220
PREFACE.
"The Boy Land Boomer" relates the adventures of a lad who, with hisfather, joins a number of daring men in an attempt to occupy the richfarming lands of Oklahoma before the time when that section of ourcountry was thrown open to settlement under the homestead act.
Oklahoma consists of a tract of land which formerly formed a portion ofthe Indian Territory. This region was much in dispute as early as 1884and 1885, when Captain "Oklahoma" Payne and Captain Couch did their bestto force an entrance for the boomers under them. Boomers remained in theneighborhood for years, and another attempt was made to settle Oklahomain 1886, and up to 1889, when, on April 22, the land was thrown open tosettlement by a proclamation of the President. The mad rush to gain thebest claims followed, and some of these scenes are related in thepresent volume.
The boomers, who numbered thousands, had among them several daring andwell-known leaders, but not one was better known or more daring thanthe leader who is known in these pages as Pawnee Brown. This man was notalone a great Indian scout and hunter, but also one who had lived muchamong the Indians, could speak their language, and who had on severaloccasions acted as interpreter for the Government. He was well belovedby his followers, who relied upon his judgment in all things.
To some it may seem that the scenes in this book are overdrawn. Such,however, is not the fact. There was much of roughness in those days, andthe author has continually found it necessary to tone down rather thanto exaggerate in penning these scenes from real life.
CAPTAIN RALPH BONEHILL.
THE BOY LAND BOOMER.
* * * * *
CHAPTER I.
DICK ARBUCKLE'S DISCOVERY.
"Father!"
The call came from a boy of sixteen, a bright, manly chap, who had justawakened from an unusually sound sleep in the rear end of a monstrousboomer's wagon.
The scene was upon the outskirts of Arkansas City, situated near thesouthern boundary line of Kansas and not many miles from the Oklahomaportion of the Indian Territory.
For weeks the city had been filling up with boomers on their way topre-empt land within the confines of Oklahoma as soon as it becamepossible to do so.
The land in Oklahoma had for years been in dispute. Pioneers claimed theright to go in and stake out homesteads, but the soldiers of ourgovernment would not allow them to do so.
The secret of the matter was that the cattle kings of that sectioncontrolled everything, and as the grazing land of the territory wasworth hundreds of thousands of dollars to them they fought desperatelyto keep the pioneers out, delaying, in every manner possible,legislation which tended to make the section an absolutely free one towould-be settlers.
But now the pioneers, or boomers as they were commonly called, weretired of waiting for the passage of a law which they knew must comesooner or later, and they intended to go ahead without legal authority.
It was a dark, tempestuous night, with the wind blowing fiercely and therain coming down at irregular intervals. On the grassy plain werehuddled the wagons, animals and trappings of over two hundred boomers.Here and there flared up the remains of a campfire, but the wind wasblowing too strongly for these to be replenished, and the men hadfollowed their wives and children into the big, canvas-covered wagons,to make themselves as comfortable as the crowded space permitted.
It was the rattle of the rain on the canvas covering of the wagon whichhad aroused the boy.
"I say father!" he repeated. "Father!"
Again there was no reply, and, kicking aside the blanket with which hehad been covered, Dick Arbuckle clambered over some boxes piled high inthe center of the vehicle to where he had left his parent resting lessthan three hours before.
"Gone!" cried the lad in astonishment. "What can this mean? What couldtake him outside in such a storm as this? Father!"
He now crawled to the opening at the front of the wagon and called atthe top of his voice. Only the shrieking of the wind answered him. Adozen times he cried out, then paused to strike a somewhat damp matchand light a smoky lantern hanging to the front ashen bow of theturn-out's covering. Holding the light over his head he peered forth intothe inky darkness surrounding the boomer's temporary camp.
"Not a soul in sight," he mused. "It must be about midnight. Cansomething have happened to father? He said he felt rather strange in hishead when he went to bed. If only Jack Rasco would come back."
From the front end of the wagon Dick Arbuckle shifted back to the rear.Here the same dreary outlook of storm, mud and flapping canvasespresented itself. Not so much as a stray dog was in sight, and thenearest wagon was twenty feet away.
"I must find out where he is. Something is wrong, I feel certain of it."
Thus muttering to himself the youth hunted up his overcoat and hat, putthem on, and, lantern in hand, swung himself into the sea ofhalf-submerged prairie grass, and stalked over to the other wagon justmentioned.
"Mike Delaney!" he cried, kicking on the wagon wheel with the toe of hisboot; "Mike Delaney, have you seen my father anywhere?"
"Sure, an' Moike Delaney is not here, Dick Arbuckle," came in a femalevoice. "He's gone off wid Pawnee Brown, and there's no tellin' whinhe'll be back. Is yer father gone?"
"Yes, and I don't know where," and now Dick stepped closer, as the roundand freckled face of Rosy Delaney peered forth from a hole in the canvasend. "He went to bed when I did, and now he's missing."
"Saints preserve us! Mebbe the Injuns scalped him now, Dick!" came in avoice full of terror.
"There are no Indians around here, Mrs. Delaney," answered the youth,half inclined to laugh. "But he's missing, and it's mighty strange, tosay the least."
"He was sick, too, wasn't he?"
"Father hasn't been real well for a year. He left New York very largelyin the hope that this climate would do him some good."
"Moike was sayin' his head throubles him a good bit."
"So it does, and that's why I am so worried. When he gets those awfulpains he is apt to walk away and keep right on without knowing where heis going."
"Poor mon! Oi wis
ht Oi could help yez. Mebbe Moike will be back soon.Ain't Jack Rasco about?"
"No, he is off with Pawnee Brown, too. Rasco and Brown have been lookingover the trails leading to Oklahoma. They are bound to outwit the UnitedStates cavalry, for the boomers have more right to that land than thecattle kings, and right is always might in the end."
"Especially wid Pawnee on the end o' it, Dick. He's a great mon, isPawnee, only it do be afther givin' me the shivers to hear him spake thePawnee language loike he was a rale Injun. Such a foine scout as he ishas no roight to spake such a dirthy tongue. How illegant it would benow if he could spake rale Oirish."
"His knowledge of the Indian tongue has helped both him and ourgovernment a good deal, Mrs. Delaney. But I mustn't stop here talking.If my father----"
A wild, unearthly shriek cut short further talk upon Dick Arbuckle'spart. It came from the darkness back of the camp and caused Mrs. Delaneyto draw back and tumble to the bottom of her house on wheels in terror.
"It's the Banshee----" she began, when Dick interrupted her.
"It's Pumpkin Bill. I'd know his voice a mile off," he declared."Somebody ought to send him back to where he belongs. Creation, what aracket!"
Nearer and nearer came the voice, rising and falling with the wind. Theshrill shrieking penetrated to every wagon, and head after head wasthrust out of the canvases to see what it meant. In another minutePumpkin Bill, the dunce of the boomer's camp, "a nobody from nowhar," touse Cal Clemmer's words, came rushing along, hatless and with his wildeyes fairly starting from their sockets.
"Save me! a ghost!" he yelled, swinging his hands over his head. "Aghost full of blood! Oh, oh! I'm a dead boy! I know I am! Stop him fromfollowing me!"
"Pumpkin!" ejaculated Dick, striding up and catching the fleeing lad bythe arm. "Hold on; what's this racket about?"
The dunce paused, then stood stock still, his mouth opening to itswidest extent. He was far from bright, and it took him several secondsto put into words what was passing in his mind.
"About, about?" he repeated. "Dick Arbuckle! Oh, dear me! I've seen yourfather's ghost!"
"Pumpkin!"
"Yes, I did. Hope to die if I didn't. I was just coming to camp fromtown. Some men kept me, and made me sing and dance for them--you knowhow I can sing--tra-la-la-da-do-da-bum! They promised me a dollar, butdidn't give it to me. I was running to get out of the wet when I plumpedinto something fearful--a ghost! Your father, covered with blood, andgroaning and moaning, 'Robbed, robbed; almost murdered!' That's what theghost said, and he caught me by the hand. See, the blood is there yet,even though I did try to wash it off in the rain. Oh, Dick, what does itmean?"
"It means something awful has happened, Pumpkin, if your story istrue----"
"Hope to die if it ain't," and the dunce crossed his heart severaltimes. Suddenly, to keep up his courage, he burst into a wild snatch ofsong:
"A big baboon Glared at the moon, And sang la-la-la-dum! 'Come down to me And I will be Your lardy-dardy----'"
"Stop it, Pumpkin," interrupted Dick. "Come along with me."
"To where?"
"To where you saw my father."
"Not for a million dollars--not for a million million!" cried thehalf-witted boy. "It wasn't your father; it was a ghost, all coveredwith blood!" and he shrank back under the Delaney wagon.
"It was my father, Pumpkin; I am sure of it. He is missing, andsomething has happened to him. Perhaps he fell and hurt himself. Comeon."
The dunce stopped short and stared.
"Missing, is he? Then it wasn't a ghost. La-la-dum! What a joke. Willyou go along, too?"
"Of course."
"And take a pistol?"
"Yes."
"Poor mon, Oi thrust he is not very much hurted," broke in Rosy Delaney,who had been a close listener to the foregoing. "If he is, DickArbuckle, bring him here, an' it's Rosy Delaney will nurse him wid th'best of care."
As has been said, many had heard Pumpkin Bill's wild cries, but now thathe had quieted down these boomers returned to their couches, grumblingthat the half-witted lad should thus be allowed to disturb their rest.
In a minute Dick Arbuckle and Pumpkin were hurrying along the road thedunce had previously traveled. The rain was letting up a bit, and thesmoky lantern lit up the surroundings for a circle thirty feet indiameter.
"Here is where I met him," said Pumpkin, coming to a halt near the edgeof a small stream. "There's the hat he knocked off my head." He pickedit up. "Oh, dear me! covered with blood! Did you ever see the like?"
Dick was more disturbed than ever.
"Which way did he go?"
"I don't know."
"Didn't you notice at all, Pumpkin? Try to think."
"Nary a notice. I ran, that's all. It looked like a bloody ghost. I'lldream about it, I know I will."
To this Dick did not answer. Getting down on his knees in the wet heexamined the trail by the lantern's rays. The footsteps which he thoughtmust be those of his father led around a bend in the stream and up aseries of rocks covered with moss and dirt. With his heart thumpingviolently under his jacket he followed the footprints until the verysummit of the rocks was gained. Then he let out a groan of anguish.
And not without cause. Beyond the summit was a dark opening fifteen feetwide, a hundred or more feet long and of unfathomable depth. Thefootprints ended at the very edge of this yawning abyss.
