On A Donkey's Hurricane Deck

<h3><SPAN name="CHAPTER_LVI" id="CHAPTER_LVI">CHAPTER LVI.</SPAN> <br/>'Frisco at last, we win!</h3> <p class="toclink"><SPAN href="#TOC-II">TOC</SPAN></p> <p class="center">BY PYE POD.</p> <div class="poembox"><div class="stanzaleft"> <div class="verse0">Who can tell a man from manners?</div> <div class="verse1">Who can tell him by his close?</div> <div class="verse0">Beggars often smoke Havanners;</div> <div class="verse1">Nabobs wear a bottle-nose.</div> </div> <cite class="citefarright">—Dog-eared Doggerels.</cite></div> <p>Placerville greeted us royally. It was once one of the largest cities in California, and in those lawless days was called Hangtown. After describing my journey in my happiest vein, the thoughtful sheriff passed his hat and presented me with about nine dollars. Then amid hearty cheers for Mac A'Rony, we were escorted to a hotel.</p> <p>That evening Coonskin and I were fêted by the young "bloods" of the town.</p> <p>The following morning a jolly party drove me to Coloma, where I saw the statue of Marshall, and old Sutter's Mill, where he discovered gold. It was a lovely autumn day. The leaves were turning, but the verdure of the Pacific slope is more subdued in its colorings than that of the East, where the change of seasons embellishes it with scarlet. My genial companions were refreshing to me after being so long a recluse, but, returning to Placerville, I dined and wasted no time in starting for Sacramento. Coonskin had shipped to San Francisco most of our luggage, to relieve our animals, and at two p. m. my little caravan drifted toward the Sacramento Valley.</p> <p>The next stop was Folsom, the seat of a state prison, twenty miles away, where we arrived at midnight. All the inhabitants seemed to be asleep. We were noisily debating about which street to follow, when a man called from a chamber window, and directed us to the best hotel, saying he would call on me in the morning. He introduced himself after breakfast as an officer of the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals, and asked to see my donkeys. I escorted him to the stable, but I feared trouble. I knew three of my donkeys were galled since leaving Carson, and was so solicitous that I sent Coonskin to have the blankets and saddles cinched on them for the start, hoping the officer would be guided by the wisdom of the proverb, "What the eye cannot see the heart cannot grieve for."</p> <p>You may imagine how disconcerted I was when the officer uncinched the saddle on Skates, the one most galled, and lifted the blanket.</p> <p>"I am sorry to say, Mr. Pod," said he calmly, "I must arrest you for cruelty to animals."</p> <p>I protested, and explained that my valet and I had been as tender and solicitous for our animals' health and comfort as a father could have been for a child; that we had tramped across both passes from Carson; and that the galls resulted from unavoidable loosening of the cinches and the shifting of the saddles. We had even changed the packs from one animal to another at frequent intervals to distribute equally the general burden. If he doubted my word we would show him our feet.</p> <p>The sight of our sore and bleeding feet caused the "humane" officer to blush at his threat, and as a sympathetic murmur ran through the crowd he said: "Professor, I must say, you men are exonerated. You are as bad off as your poor donkeys, but I cannot let you take this animal out of town in that condition."</p> <div class="figcenter"> <SPAN name="Across_on_the_exclusive_Solano"></SPAN> <SPAN href="images/i416a-hd.jpg">larger <ANTIMG src="images/i416a.jpg" width-obs="400" height-obs="291" alt="" /></SPAN> <div class="caption">"Across on the exclusive Solano."</div> </div> <div class="figcenter"> <SPAN name="I_pointed_toward_the_goal"></SPAN> <SPAN href="images/i416b-hd.jpg">larger <ANTIMG src="images/i416b.jpg" width-obs="400" height-obs="297" alt="" /></SPAN> <div class="caption">"I pointed toward the goal."</div> </div> <div class="figcenter"> <SPAN name="The_Ferry_approach_in_Frisco"></SPAN> <SPAN href="images/i416c-hd.jpg">larger <ANTIMG src="images/i416c.jpg" width-obs="400" height-obs="324" alt="" /></SPAN> <div class="caption">"The Ferry approach in 'Frisco was choked with a rabble."</div> </div> <p>I was grieved to part with Skates, who had piloted us across the summits in that heavy storm, but the law must be obeyed. I sold the donkey to a son of the hotel landlord, who promised to cherish her as a pet. We were allowed to proceed with the rest on condition that neither of us would ride.</p> <p>It was a long day's journey to the capital, upwards of thirty miles, and we got under way by nine o'clock. Coonskin and I could scarcely walk, and as we drove our three jaded burros down the main street we were cheered on every hand. After reaching the open country Mac A'Rony, observing me screw my face and hearing me sigh from pain, seemed to say: "I'm sorry, old man, but when we are out of sight of those meddling officers, get in the saddle and I will carry you a way." The dear fellow; he could read me like a book.</p> <p>We threaded a lovely country. The orchards were denuded of fruit and verdure, but the vineyards were laden with their white and pink and purple harvest, and the waving alfalfa sent us whiffs from their fragrant censers all along the trail. We stopped at the great Sonora Vineyard to rest and enjoy some Muscat grapes; and shortly after lunch hour, we rested again at a weighing station, where I received a telephone message inquiring when we might be expected at the capital.</p> <p>Handkerchiefs and hats were waving from the balconies of the Golden Eagle Hotel, Sacramento, and newsboys were crying the arrival of Pod and Mac A'Rony as we approached. While I had tramped most all of the way from Folsom, I rode into the city, and after a brief address at the hotel, sent my animals to the stable.</p> <p>The landlord welcomed me cordially, and I was immediately assailed by reporters. The next morning a newspaper man took me driving about the city. I was presented to several state officials, and shown through the handsomest state capitol grounds in the Union. Half the day was devoted to business duties; in the evening I delivered a lecture; and several times I was asked to escort a party of ladies to the stable to see the donkey that enjoyed the unrivaled distinction of having made a 4,000 mile journey from the Hudson to the Sacramento.</p> <p>Next day we started for 'Frisco at eight a. m. Just five days were left us in which to travel the ninety miles to our goal. There were many who advised me to go by way of Stockton, a longer journey by forty miles, cautioning me that my donkeys would not be allowed to cross in the "Solano" ferry at Benicia, which was reserved strictly for people and passenger trains.</p> <p>But we started on the shorter route, Mac and I leading the way out of the beautiful city and along the banks of the Sacramento River, through the toolies and hop fields towards Davisville.</p> <p>When yet a mile to town, Damfino while not even carrying a saddle, staggered and showed symptoms of the colic. The noble beast had done her duty on the hard trip from Iowa, and being the biggest and strongest, she had borne the heaviest burden. She had earned her freedom. I decided to leave her by the roadside. Somebody would soon find her, and take good care of her; which I afterwards learned to be the case.</p> <p>Next morning Coonskin and I set out early with the remaining two donkeys, Mac A'Rony and Coxey, for Suisun, some twenty-five miles away, we walking two-thirds of the distance for the sake of our animals, although augmenting our own sufferings, for our feet still pained us. My dog, Don, on the other hand, was full of health and abrim with mirth.</p> <p>Suisun welcomed us at sunset. That evening a happy idea came to mind; I would send Coonskin to Oakland by train. Considerable business must be done there which he could attend to, besides, he might arrange for hotel and stable accommodations, and engage a blacksmith to put on Mac A'Rony the silver shoes which should be at the express office in that city. There was left me three days in which to travel fifty miles, but now I could ride alternately the two donks and not overtax either.</p> <p>I was received with usual courtesies at Benicia, and the hotel swarmed with townspeople and guests to hear about my trip.</p> <p>At nine next morning a sympathetic crowd accompanied me to the ferry, fully expecting to see my party refused passage.</p> <p>"You cannot board the Solano with your burros," said the officer, positively; "the boat is strictly reserved for passenger trains and people."</p> <p>I did not show surprise, but calmly explained my overland trip, and emphasized the importance of my reaching 'Frisco with Mac by noon of November 3.</p> <p>"Will you send a message to the Southern Pacific's head office at my expense?" I asked. The officer said he would, and sent it. The answer soon came directing the ferrymaster to pass Pod and party across on the exclusive Solano and extend us every courtesy.</p> <p>The officer seemed much astonished at receiving the message. His obsequiousness made Mac A'Rony bray. When the expected train arrived and the Solano left the dock and the passengers realized that they were the first to cross in the company of four-legged donkeys, they treated to cigars and fruit and paid Mac A'Rony exceptional homage.</p> <p>Landing at Porte Costa, I was directed on the shortest route to Oakland, and amid cheers and hearty well-wishes started to climb the trail over the hills which border the river from that point to some distance south.</p> <p>It was after dark when, descending the bluffs and trailing a few miles along the river, I rode into the little village of San Pablo. The streets were quite deserted, and the few men I talked with answered my inquiries in Spanish. Finally, I entered a humble tavern whose Irish proprietor directed me on the right road. Only a few miles now lay between me and Oakland, and although tired and hungry I did not stop for supper, but pushed onward over the level road, now and then walking a half mile to rest my tired yet uncomplaining mounts or to ease my joints, until I rode into the city at midnight. Coonskin met me on the road and cheered me with the information that all the duties assigned to him were attended to, then piloted me to the hotel and the animals to the stable. After getting something to eat I retired.</p> <p>Coonskin had interviewed the reporters, and the morning press heralded my advent in long and sensational notices. When I went to the stable everybody seemed to identify me with the traveler pictured in the papers. I inwardly chuckled when I thought of my dilapidated garb and general unkempt appearance. I was still lame and felt that I had walked around the world in eighty days.</p> <p>My poor little donks were lying down when I went to their stalls. The twenty-eight-mile tramp of the preceding day had told on them. Mac rose to his feet and stuck up his nose to be rubbed.</p> <p>"You have almost earned your pension, too," I said. "But now come to the smith's to have your new shoes put on. They are of pure silver, and befitting one that has made such a record in the field of travel." The little fellow smiled, and playfully pulled the handkerchief out of my pocket while I adjusted his bridle. And when he walked out of the shop "in" his pretty new shoes he looked as proud as any lad in his first pair of pants.</p> <p>Coonskin and I lunched early. The customary crowd followed my party to the ferry, and some crossed with us on the boat to 'Frisco. How happy I felt while drifting over San Francisco Bay! I pointed toward the goal, and to a bystander, said: "During my 340 days' journey, I have had only a vague vision of the city before me, but the day I started from New York I felt as confident of reaching it as I do now." Several passengers laughed incredulously; nevertheless I spoke the truth.</p> <p>The ferry approach in 'Frisco was choked with a rabble. Upon landing Coonskin and I rode our little long-eared animals up Market street to a prominent hotel, a cheering throng of men and street gamins tagging behind or following by the walk on both sides of the street. And when at two o'clock the glass doors to its great white court were thrown open to us, I was just twenty-two hours ahead of schedule time.</p> <p>The several rows of balconies were crowded with hotel guests and friends waving handkerchiefs and hats, and cheer upon cheer rose to the crystal roof and descended to our ears. The court was packed. I called a porter.</p> <p>"Bring a rug for my silver-shod donkey to stand on," I ordered. The darkey looked mystified, and had the insolence to question my strange request, but he soon brought the rug. The reporters aided me to urge back the crowd to give the spectators in the balconies a view of Mac's silver-shod hoofs, all four of which Coonskin lifted, one after the other, for them to see.</p> <p>"Three cheers for Mac A'Rony!" some one shouted from the balcony. It was the signal for a general outburst of applause; and Mac, Coxey and Don, each, respectively, brayed or bayed his deafening acknowledgment of the popular ovation.</p> <p>Then I briefly reviewed my long and tempestuous voyage of 4,096 miles on a donkey's hurricane deck in 340 days and two hours. Frequently I was interrupted with laughter or cheers, as I cited some ludicrous experience, and the unbridled throng, many of them mere street loungers, laughed and yelled and whistled until, finally, the incensed manager was attracted to the Court. The police were unable to cope with the crowd, so I was requested to remove the cause of the disturbance. Indeed I was grateful for the excuse to get away from that wild scene. Coonskin took the animals to the stable, and I, after registering, immediately sought a more exclusive hotel, to whose landlord I bore a letter of introduction from a distinguished gentleman friend.</p> <p>I must have looked as if I had crossed Central Africa and had fought fifty tribes of cannibals. My clothes, hat and leggings were in shreds, my sleeves were fastened to my coat with bale-wire, and blue cotton hung in view.</p> <p>"Do you take tramps at this hotel?" I inquired of the astonished clerk of the Occidental, as I leaned on the office counter. He stopped sorting letters and eyed me with curiosity, but before he recovered his reason, the junior proprietor appeared, and said: "Sometimes," then with a knowing smile extended his hand in greeting.</p> <p>"I believe this is Mr. Pod," he said. I nodded and handed him the letter. When he had read it the affable young gentleman extended me the freedom of the hotel and three days later got up a coaching party in my honor.</p> <p>I was soon a transformed man. After a shave and hair-cut and bath, I dressed and appeared at the office attired as a gentleman on parade, and was hardly recognized by the clerk to be the same man.</p> <p>Coonskin, too, I had fitted out completely; besides I gave him a sum of money and an honorable discharge. In a few days he secured a situation in a hotel, but later set out for a mining camp in the Sierras to dig for gold.</p> <p>I presented one donkey to Golden Gate Park, and sold the other, but I retained possession of my dog. Frequently afterward I called at the park to see dear old faithful Mac A'Rony.</p> <p>In conclusion, let me state that I had eleven donkeys on my overland trip, never more than five at one time. I wore out ten pairs of boots, and put one hundred and forty-eight shoes on my animals at an average cost of ninety cents each, and arrived at my journey's end with several hundred dollars in pocket and weighing thirty-three pounds more than I did the day I set out from New York with ninety-nine cents.</p> <div class="poembox"> <div class="stanzaleft"> <div class="verse0">"I am as free as Nature first made man,</div> <div class="verse0">Ere the base laws of servitude began,</div> <div class="verse0">When wild in the woods the noble savage ran."</div> </div></div> <div style="break-after:column;"></div><br />