They were to go to the hay-fields about the first of October, and the work would keep them a full six weeks, during which time they wished to remain constantly in camp. They would go to the more distant part of the fields and work toward town. The grass was upon hilly ground, making the work somewhat tedious in places. As the country was only thinly settled, they would be the entire time away from all social life. The camp would be moved several times, each time being pitched nearer town.
It would be a full day’s drive from home to the place for the first camp, with the wagons loaded as they would have to be, therefore all preparations for the start were made the day before. The bulky machinery needed for haying was loaded upon wagons, while the camping-outfit, bedding, clothing, and all things for family use were put upon a separate wagon, where the children were to ride also. Austin was to be the driver of this wagon, and from the first be given the oversight of the children. The party would consist of Mr. Hill, Wilbur, Ned Bailey (who had been hired to help on the job), Austin, and the children.
In gathering together the implements needed, some one had to make a trip across a small pasture-field from which the scrubby timber had not been cleared. Will had hitched a team of young mules to one of the wagons and gone on this errand. The mules were frisky fellows and enlivened this little journey by running away. Wilbur got them under control with little trouble, but it was noticed afterward that one of the wheels of the wagon had been injured by striking against a tree. Because his load would not be so heavy as the others, Austin was given this wagon.
The morning they were to start every one was up early and eager to be off; but as is always the case at such times, they found more to do than they had supposed, and it was nearly noon when they left the house. They stopped in town to get groceries and a few things needed for the work, and were off again. Only Mr. Hill knew where the hay-fields were located, and as the road led through a rough country, he took the lead, the others following, making a jolly little caravan.
They had not gone far on the way when all the joy of the trip was taken away for Austin. He saw a suspicious-looking brown bottle pass between Ned and Mr. Hill. Too well he knew what that meant, and how unreasonable and inconsistent his father would be when his brain should be fired by the bottle’s contents. In only a little while the silly jokes and ribald laughter of the two men floated back to those in the last wagon. Austin looked on the children in pity and was sorry that he had consented to take them on such a journey. But all they could do now was to go ahead, fare as they might.
Henry Hill still had a conscience, and at every draft from the hottle it lashed him harder, but he mistook it for Austin’s accusing thoughts. He felt the serious, reproving eyes of his son rest upon him every time he took a sup, and to avoid this unpleasant sensation he drove to one side, and when Austin came along by him, he ordered that he go to the lead.
He knew that dim as the road was and rough, Austin would have all he could manage with his driving and could give no time to what was going on behind him. Austin protested against this arrangement, for he did not know the way nor the condition of the roads. There were a number of small streams to be crossed, none of which had bridges, and all of which had treacherous quicksand beds, and he hated to drive first with the children. But his father was already past reasoning with and motioned Austin on with an imperative flourish of his hand. After getting the directions as well as he could Austin drove ahead. Presently they came to one of the little streams, the banks of which were steep and sandy, but by paying strict attention to what he was doing, Austin got into the water and out again on the other side without accident. The other wagons were not so fortunate, for one of them tipped over and spilled the machinery into the stream. It took some time to get everything out and on the wagon again, and the combined strength of the men was needed to accomplish it. To cheer themselves on their way Mr. Hill and Ned took several more drinks from the brown bottle. Fortunately for Austin and the children Wilbur was not drinking at all.
They had not gone far when Austin allowed his wagon to strike against a stone. Unfortunately it was the injured wheel that received this jolt, and it gave way. Here was a worse predicament than the first accident had been, for the wagon could not go at all. They unloaded one of the other wagons and reloaded it with the things from the one Austin was driving. It took some time to do all this, especially since half the men were almost past helping; already it was late. Mr. Hill had now come to the disagreeable stage of drunkenness and was furiously angry at this delay, especially because it had been Austin who had occasioned it. He did not think it best to vent his anger upon his son, so took it out upon the team. Talking loudly and swearing profusely, he stepped up to one of the horses and gave it a smart kick. This blow was unexpected by the animal and entirely uncalled for, and was spitefully resented—no sooner had the blow fallen on the horse’s side than it wheeled and kicked back viciously. The blow struck the man on the thigh, and he gave a loud yell of pain. The pain was as severe as if the leg had been instantly broken by the contact, and no doubt that is what Mr. Hill thought had happened.
The children, already excited over the accidents, were now thrown into great alarm at the scream of pain from their father, and began to cry with fright. But Austin felt a wave of gratitude to the fiery old horse for punishing the foolish man.
“Hush, children! he is not seriously hurt, and the pain will sober him so that he can tell us where to go,” said Austin with a good deal of inward satisfaction. As matters then were he had gone as far as he could without further directions, and his father was past giving any sensible orders. It had begun to look as if they must camp on the prairie till the man could sober up.
The boys helped the wounded man into his wagon and made him as comfortable as they could with some pillows and a bed-quilt, and went on with their work. Austin’s guess had been right, for by the time the boys were ready to start on, Mr. Hill was able to tell them where to go.
The accidents had hindered the little caravan so much that they did not reach their destination till long after dark. They were to camp that night in the yard of the man for whom they were to work, and it was very late when they drove in and gave the customary call. Mr. Jenkins came to his door and in a few minutes was out in the yard with them. Will and Austin were out of their wagons and explaining how they had been delayed. Mr. Jenkins looked about in some perplexity.
“Where is Hill, the man I contracted the work to?” he asked. “Father is yonder in the wagon. He had an accident on the way and is not able to get out of the wagon by himself,” explained Will.
Mr. Jenkins walked around to where Ned and Mr. Hill were nodding drunkenly, and turning to the boys he said, “Been drinking I guess.” The boys said nothing, for both of them were heartily ashamed of their father’s condition.
Mr. Jenkins, who had a kinder heart than tongue, said some very hard things that night to the stupid men, but helped the boys to get them off the wagons and into bed.
“If a man has no respect for himself, he ought to have some for his children. Think of your dad being out with his little girls on a trip like this and getting into such a condition,” stormed their host. The boys made little reply, for nothing they could say could mend matters nor make them less mean. As for Henry Hill, he was past all feeling or consideration, being as stupid as if he were not a man at all. He hardly knew when he was placed in his bed.
There was little room in the ranch-house, and beds had to be piled upon the floors of some empty bins in the barn. Here the weary children were soon in sweet, forgetful sleep. When Austin lay down to rest, with his little sisters sleeping near by, he thought soberly and earnestly. His lot had been cast among the wicked, but by the grace of God he meant to make the best of it anyway, and do what he could for the little ones. It was hard to have as kind a feeling toward his father as a Christian should, but he was able to conquer himself and keep peace in his soul. Never will he forget the battle he fought that night with apprehensions, discouragements, and evil feelings toward his parent. Lying there in the dusty granary with the mice scampering about, he prayed, “O God, give me grace to feel toward Father as I should. Help me in the coming weeks to consenting to bring them on such a hazardous journey.”
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