--- title: Improvement Era description: Monthly periodical of the Mormon church, 1897 onward. This library holds the issues of November 1897 to December 1930. authors: - Evans, John Henry collections: - periodicals tags: - magazine - improvement-era periodical: Improvement Era volume: 15 number: 4 published: 1912-02 publisher: Young Men’s Mutual Improvement Associations publisher_place: Salt Lake City language: en type: magazine reference: 'Evans, John Henry, "The Open Road. Adventures VII. and VIII.," *Improvement Era* 15, no. 4 (February 1912): 350–357.' source: url: https://archive.org/details/improvementera1504unse transcription: Transcribed from the Internet Archive scan of each issue (the item for each issue is named in the issue's own source); unnumbered advertising leaves are omitted, printed page numbers are kept as page markers. identifier: improvementera1504unse start_page: 350 end_page: 357 rights: status: public-domain basis: US publication 1930 or earlier (published 1912-02) source: https://archive.org/details/improvementera1504unse publication_year: 1912 note: The Internet Archive item metadata carries a blanket "© Copyright by Intellectual Reserve, Inc." notice. The library owner judged it inapplicable because this issue was published in 1912, before 1931; a scan-level notice does not restore copyright. --- # The Open Road. Adventures VII. and VIII. The Open Road BY JOHN HENRY EVANS, OP THE LATTER-DAY SAINTS UNIVERSITY Adventure VII. In Which Brocketts Gets On. That winter Brocketts found employment, such as it was, with Caesar Bodkin. Bodkin had married a squaw, and in consequence there were eight little half-breeds running about with tawny complexion and straight, black hair, which they were forever tossing out of their eyes. And a hard taskmaster he proved. Brocketts had to make many a brick those five months, without a wisp of straw. — Bodkin did nothing on the place which was the reason why he was a squaw-man —except smoke a filthy pipe and lie around all day, mainly on the south side of the old log hut. There were great stacks of wood to chop, cattle and horses to feed, a huge barrel to fill with water twice a day —tasks which Brocketts had to do alone. The fare, as one might easily guess, was poor in quality and worse cooked. And his board was all the compensation the boy was to receive. Nevertheless, those were halcyon days, and all on account of a school that he attended during those five months. The master was a rare student and teacher. A western man, he had gone east to study, had set his mark high, but, like a good many other large minds with small apportunity, he had had to struggle hard for what he got. He hoped to be a lawyer, he said, and was teaching in the winter months in order to lay by money to return to Harvard. From the first he took great interest in Brocketts. "I like you," he said, "because you want to learn. You've good stuff in you, and should go on." And Brocketts did want to go on. During the time he was not at work for Bodkin, he was at work for himself, and he meant to go on. The school house, a small log structure with paper window panes and split logs on pegs for benches and desks, was not far from the house. Brocketts had obtained the inestimable privilege of sleeping here in payment of the labor required to THE OPEN ROAD 351 sweep it out every day. Sleeping in the school house was desirable in his case, because he could be alone and might sit up as late as he wanted- to without disturbing anyone or being disturbed. Now, at the orphanage, whatever defects that institution may have had, Brocketts had received most excellent training in the German language, in mathematics, and in Latin. But, after leaving the orphan asylum, he had made some progress also in English. As soon as he had made up his mind to go to America, he cultivated the accmaintance of a German on board the Walrus who knew this language well. Him, therefore, he plied with questions as to what was the English for this and that and the other. On the Maria Pinta several of the sailors were Americans and could speak little else than English. The company of these he diligently sought and cultivated whenever he could, so that by the time he landed he could not only understand most of the simple — vocabulary of the sail not too choice, to be sure but could ex- — press himself with tolerable freedom. Then, too, he had some little practice in talking the language on the way, for his companions understood not a word outside of their native tongue. Since his separation from them, he had heard and spoken nothing but English. Now he could study this language to advantage, having a capable instructor. His teacher put into, his hands volumes of history and literature and biography, which told powerfully on the mental development of this naturally talented boy. lie sat up half the night, studying these books by the light of a blazing fire ; for the twenty-fifth "deestrick" could not boast the possession of a lamp, and Brocketts' purse was too slender to permit even the small outlay necessary to buy a supply of candles, lie always took pains "to look before and after,"' but he never pined "for what is not." Magazines also he read— old ones, to be sure, in sense, but new in a relative one, for he had never seen the absolute their contents before— and one of these made a profound impression on his mind. It contained an account of John Wanamaker s commercial successes. From this moment he counted himself a merchant in the making. The biographies of scientists, men of letters, even inventors did not appeal so strongly to his nature. Merchandising he considered was his natural calling. He would be a great mer- 352 IMPROVEMENT ERA chant, like his father and like Wanamaker —not a mere bargainer, but a man of wide interests and usefulness. I am not sure but Brocketts' desire for wealth, mostly on account of his absorbing search of his parents, had something to do with this choice. But if so, or if not, there was nothing ignoble in it. And besides, was not his father a merchant — or had been? But when school was over in the spring, he began to cast about him for some profitable occupation so that he might continue on his way west. There was little money in country places in those days, and so Brocketts betook himself to Omaha. There he fell in with a man who kept a small shoe store, with whom he worked for two dollars a week, including his board and lodging. He patched and mended shoes, he helped to make shoes, and he delivered shoes, pair by pair, to any part of the town. But Carlson broke up in business presently, and Brocketts was thrown once more on his own resources. Next he worked in a printing office. Now, a printing office is the place, of all places in the world, where you hear the news and a good deal that isn't news. And two things he heard while he was here. The first was a confirmation of all his hopes, and all that he had ever heard before, of the great Eldorado on the Pacific coast. Adventurers returning from the gold fields of California, were loaded, not indeed with nuggets of the yellow metal, but with tales of the wonderful land. The fact that their purses were so slender, even though their heads were full, should have been enlightening to young Brocketts. But it was not. And so, in default of hard cash, these westerners spun out their yarns, saffron-hued as the metal they did not have, to an incredible length — every word of which was manna the hungry boy. How could to he,a lad of than less without any experience sixteen, the world in — how could he be expected distinguish to fromfact fable, especially since his mind had been tuned for the fable? And so his appetite for the riches of the west grew apace. The other thing that he heard while at the printing office concerned a strange people living in a place called Utah, on the way to California. They were called "Mormons." And they had a way of killing those whom they did not like. It was really dangerous to be in Utah, especially if you were the least inclined to be religious ; for they seemed to hate religious folk worse than THE OPEN ROAD 303 they did anyone else. Utah was a perfect net-work of underground passages, and if you did anything to the "Mormons" that they didn't like, pretty soon you suddenly disappeared and nobody heard of you any more. One man told him about the Mountain Meadows massacre, in which he had a cousin that was killed. Jt was a horrible story and made Brocketts' blood curule, but he liked to hear tales thatmade his blood curdle. Would the man tell him some more?- And the man did. He took the gold fever and suffered inexpressibly from it. One day he heard of a place where he could get five dollar:* a week — at the printer's he got only three — and as itwas in a store, he was the more anxious to secure it at once. So he quit his position as printer's devil, and called on Mr. Nolan, the manager of the firm of Nolan, Scudder & Company. "What's your name, sonny?" asked Mr. Nolan, a gruff, hardfeatured man. "Brocketts, sir." "Brocketts — Brocketts what?" "I don't know, sir." "What? Don't know what your own name is? You're a fine one, I must say!" Brocketts told him briefly his origin, leaving out all allusion to his having been kidnapped. "No No boy works for me who don't know his own name ! and who comes from I don't know where. Why, the first thing I'd know, he'd be running off with my cash box !" "You c'n trust me, sir," Brocketts said innocently. "I've never done anything like that." "That's what every scalawag says. Clear out! There's no place for you here." That afternoon he took his way to the depot, bought a ticket as far as his money would go, and boarded a train for the land of the Setting Sun. Adventure VIII.— In the Glare of the Headlight. Brocketts' ticket took him to Denver. Here, at midnight, he left the car, after everybody else had done so, and walked towards the end of the train. He stumbled in the darkness between two Presently he came to the depot, but would not go in at tracks. 354 IMPROVEMENT ERA that late hour, though, had he known it, that was the best place for him tinder the circumstances. So he wandered about, seeking a place where he might lay himself down till morning. For an hour or so he wandered about aimlessly, crossing and recrossing his path many times, but avoiding the lighted places. As time wore on, fewer and fewer dark figures flitted through the stream of light that came from the engine's forehead and the windows of the station. If he could but have found an empty box car, he would gladly have gone into it and trusted to luck. Clearly, though, this walking about could not go on forever. He must lie down and sleep. But where would he be safe from tramps and cut-throats? As if tramps and cut-throats would molest a poor boy that looked as if he had even less than fifty cents in his pocket! In this frame of mind he came suddenly upon a square pile of new ties built up layer on layer crosswise to the height probably of seven feet. Clambering up with infinite difficulty, he sat down. In a little while he took off his coat, lay down, and spread it carefully over him. How unspeakably lonely it was The great darkness and the ! quiet frightened him. Whenever the wind, high above, cleared away a cloud from the sky and a star blinked, he shuddered. To his lively imaginings it was a gigantic eye full of all unkindness, and he expected every moment to feel a gigantic hand reach down and clutch him. At last, however, he fell into a fitful slumber. When he awoke next morning the sun was shining benevolently into his face. It soon drove away the chill of the night and brought warmth and cheer to his soul. For it made all the difference in the world to Brocketts whether the sun shone or clouds darkened the sky. In a twinkling all last night's gloom and fears were gone, and he was himself again. He slid down from his high perch and began to explore his surroundings. He was pretty well away from the station, he discovered. Going over to a small cottage not far from the track, he asked and received a hasty bowl of bread and milk, which he offered to pay for, but which the good woman who served him would not hear of. Meanwhile, he had made up his mind to go on his way. The sun had done that, mostly. But how was he going without money ? He had not been in America ten months, though, without hearing of a certain class of penniless men who, THE OPEN ROAD 35a especially in the west, often ride from town to town notwithstanding. Could not he, also, risk an empty box car? Now, Brocketts had got more than a bowl of bread and milk from the little woman at the cottage. He had received some valuable information to boot. Which way was west? and was there a train going in that direction today ? Yes, there was ; it would leave in about an hour, for it was only nine o'clock ; there it was over yonder now. So he walked along the track a little way. Passing the cars, one after another, he carefully scrutinized them, marking one that was empty and had a door invitingly open. He sat down and waited, not far away. At last came the warning too-toot of the engine, followed by a great puffing and grunting and spinning of the wheels. That was a heavy load to pull, but as its head was down hill, the steam horse had a good foot-hold, so to speak. He got up and wandered, with apparent unconcern, toward the track, keeping a close eye on the brakeman, who was walking along the car tops. The engine snorted past. Ten or fifteen cars clicked by. Here was the open box car. By this time the train was going at a pretty rate. He trotted, or rather hopped, alongside it for a few yards. Then, catching firm hold of an upper rod, he swung himself breathless inside the car. At first he was dazed by what he had done. He sat in the middle of the car and looked out. But presently recovering himself, he moved to the door and sat down, letting his legs hang !" over the edge at the door. "I might as well take in the sights he said with amazing coolness, addressing the mountains and things in general. The landscape was moving now with its usual circular rotation when you are on a train. Wasn't this fine, though ! After all,he had managed things well. He could go thus all the way to California, he thought in his ignorance. And he pictured himself in the golden country getting rich, and then beginning the long search for his parents. !" "Hey, there, you Brocketts started as if someone had shot him. Where did that voice come from? "What you doin' there, fellow?" The word dropped straight down from above. The brakeman had seen him, then — at least, his legs 356 IMPROVEMENT BRA Now, what Brocketts ought to have done was to have answered the man from where he sat. But that is exactly what he did not do. For, quick as thought, he jerked his legs in, ran to the end of the car, and craned his neck in the direction of the door. For a brief moment the noise of the train was as the voice of the last day. An awful fear took hold of him. Suddenly, in the midst of it all, there appeared above the doorway first a pair of man's shoes, then a pair of man's legs, and finally a man's body, huge as a titan's, swinging by the hands from the roof. The boy's heart beat loudly against his ribs, and his breath fairly stopped. He crawled down in the farthest and darkest corner, endeavoring to bring his body into a microscopic compass, as if he could thus beguile the man into thinking he was somewhere else. Maybe, after all, the swinging man would drop out! Then — there would be no danger to Brocketts. — But the obstinate fellow, instead, dropped in safely and — stood up in the middle of the floor, and cried angrily "Come out o' there !" As Brocketts beheld the brakeman standing there in the light, he almost fainted through sheer terror. There could be no doubt as to what would be done with him. It was a dreadful thing, this stealing a ride,and he should never have done it. He had heard of tramps being kicked out of empty box cars by angry brakemen, while the train was in rapid motion, and picked up afterwards by section hands, dead and mangled. And he pictured himself, in a thought-flash, passing through this horrible fate. Then he would be as dead as the little drowned boy at Strassburg that was buried in his stead, and his parents would never know the difference! All this required but an instant. There, meantime, stood the brakeman, glaring angrily into the darkness. "I'll give you just ten seconds, my man, to come out of that !" he repeated with threatening firmness, at the same time putting his hand to his hip pocket. For in those days every railroad man carried revolvers. In three seconds, however, Brocketts came before the enemy, pale and trembling. "Oh! and so you're only a kid!" And the man laughed. "Where do ye think you're goin'?" "To California, sir." "Have you got any money about you ?" Here was a fresh difficulty. Brocketts' heart sank again. THE OPEN RO VD He replied frankly, "Only fifty cents, sir; but you c'n have that" And he stretched out his hand with the money in it, which, however, the man refused. "That wouldn't pay fcr the ride you've already had. Y certainly didn't expect to go all the way to California on fifty cents, did you?" "No, sir," the boy answered truthfully, *'l i xpected t< there for nothing. I didn't think you'd see me, though." The man smiled, after which there was an awkward pause. Brocketts began to fear again ; but before it had got to the former point, the enemy himself rescued him from that condition. For while Brocketts was debating in his mind as to what cour pursue, his unwelcome visitor grabbed one of the iron bars just outside the door and vanished the way lie had come. What an agony of relief that was! The lad began to breath naturally again. But he refrained from sitting down any with his legs dangling outside. The scenery could go, now. And this was no great loss, for after a time there was little else than sage brush and sand to be seen. ' At Evanston, in Wyoming, he lost his train, lie ha out to procure some food, and wandered about too long. '1 hen was nothing to do, however, but wait patiently for the next one-. That next happened to be a passenger train. It stopp< asdusk was falling and while Brocketts loitered near the depot. Walking leisurely to the tank where the iron horse was drinking he crossed the track immediately in front of the engine. Now, he happened to observe a fine platform just under t headlight, with two rods running from the outer up d^ number board, and everything looking for all the world had been put there to ride on. Just as he was inspecting this a view to its utility, the conductor shouted: !" "All aboard In anoth In a flash Brocketts threw himself on this ledge. flash the fiery steed shot off into the night. That was a ride, surely! The engine puffed and It trembled like a live thing. It plunged ever on and on one eve threw a glaring funnel of light over the railwas blackness \nd there sat Brocketts, a n under that eve. holding on with desperation to the rods 01 r he had had pres side of him.' He was hatl i