It was still drizzling when we reached the town and
Mrs. Lennox learned where the Brunners lived. I had been told that they
would be looking for me, and I expected to go to them at once.
As we approached the west bank of the creek, which winds south past the
town, we could see the branches on the trees in grandma's dooryard
swaying. Yet we could not reach there, because a heavy mountain storm
had turned a torrent into the creek channel, washed away the foot
bridge, and overflowed the low land. Disappointed, we encamped on high
ground to wait for the waters to recede.
Toward evening, Jakie gathering his cows on the opposite side, noticed
our emigrant wagon, and oxen, and as he drew nearer recognized Mrs.
Lennox. Both signalled from where they stood, and soon he descried me,
anxious to go to him. He, also, was disappointed at the enforced delay,
and returned often to cheer us, and to note the height of the water. It
seemed to me that we had been there days and days, when a Mission
Indian on a gray pony happened to come our way, and upon learning what
was wanted, signalled that he would carry me over for a Mexican silver
dollar. Jakie immediately drew the coin from his pocket and held it
between thumb and forefinger, high above his head in the sunshine, to
show the native that his price would be paid.
Quickly the Indian dismounted, looked his pony over carefully, cinched
the blanket on tighter, led him to the water's edge, and turned to me.
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