The Black Cat (magazine)/Volume 6/Number 11/Flying the Flume
Flying the Flume.[1]
by Bailey Millard.
But Martha Capp liked the noises. She liked the sawmill, too, and most of all she liked the flume. She loved to see the lumber from the mill shoot by her down the long waterway as she sat on the bank. The flume ran to the railroad at Red CaHon, twenty miles away. From the flume she would look up to the great peaks upon which the tall, dark pines were roughly etched.
Sometimes Martha had a companion there by the waterway, Serena Hazlitt, a girl with magnificent red hair that hung in two great braids down her back, looking, as Martha had said to her mother, "like two big sticks of molasses candy." Serena had the soft complexion and the kind of blue eyes that go with auburn hair. Martha's hair was jet black and her skin and eyes were dark. The two girls were in the same class at school, and while they were always friendly enough, they often found themselves in positions of rivalry. Martha had "spelled down" Serena on three occasions when they were the last of the line to remain standing. But Serena had been chosen Fairy Queen at the church festival, much to the chagrin of the Capp family, who had confidently counted upon Martha getting the most votes. Then, too, Serena's buckskin was just a little faster than Martha's white pony.
"I wouldn't let that red-headed thing beat me every time I rode to school," had been the taunt of Martha’s sister Annie.
"Don't care if she does," Martha had replied. "I don't like racing, and don't let Kittie out. If it does 'Renie any good let her beat. I can spell her down, anyway."
"But she gloats over it so when she rides past you," persisted Annie. "I'd get a long switch and give Kit a good cut when she tried to get by."
That was precisely what Martha had done, but Serena's light-footed buckskin had glided past her slower horse so easily that the dark girl had almost given up the idea of ever beating in the school race. It was deeply mortifying to her to see the buckskin pass so swiftly and to hear Serena's challenge, "Why don't you come on? Your horse is a little slow, ain't she?" But Martha hid all her disconcerting thoughts under a placid little face that showed nothing of self-distrust.
"Oh, I don't care to race," she always said; "it's kind of dangerous on these high cañon roads."
"That's right, Marthy," her father would say. "The roads is too narrer, an' you might git throwed down a thousand feet there at Clift Pint."
At Gliff Point, the very next day, Serena would probably dash past Martha, both horses at their top speed. But Martha kept all knowledge of such matters from her father and mother.
"I don't care," she would say. "Maybe some day we'll have a horse that will beat that dirty little buckskin all hollow. And, anyway, Serena Hazlitt got two marks for bad deportment last month, and I didn't get any."
But when they sat on the bank by the flume, looking down into the gliding water, all thoughts of rivalry between the two girls were put aside. They placed pine-cone men on big chip boats and sent them down to the bay, or listened to the swish of the water as their hazel wands bent in the fleeting stream. Then a great piece of pine lumber would whisk by, making a long yellow flash in the bright sunlight. Sometimes, when a mill-man had an errand down at Red Cañon, he would sit on a box on two of these large timbers, nailed side by side, and go gliding past Martha and Serena, shouting, "Hello, girls! Want a ride?" But he would be going too fast to permit of any jumping on or off his raft, and all they could do would be to giggle and shout, "Good-bye! Pleasant voyage!" while they whirled their hats.
"Flying the flume" is what the lumbermen called this method of navigation. It was a swift and easy means 'of reaching Red Cañon, and was safe enough as long as the voyager kept his place on the raft and there were no limbs or timbers projecting low over the flume ahead.
Sometimes a whole party of men would fly the flume, one behind the other, each on his own little raft, and once, when a mill-man had been crushed by a log in the yard and killed, a coffin had been made and his body had been floated down on a raft, with a grim Charon in the form of the grizzled foreman sitting up behind.
Martha, who always wanted to "go somewhere," had longed to fly the flume, but there had never been any occasion, and even had one occurred her father would not have permitted her to make such an adventurous journey.
One day Martha and Serena were coming from the post-office when, near the blacksmith shop, they saw a little group of villagers about a pretty horse that had just been shod by the blacksmith. The animal had a smooth, cream-white coat, with large brown spots on it, and a long flowing mane and tail.
"What a lovely pinto!" exclaimed Serena.
"Isn't he shiny?"
"A beauty," said Martha, "and he looks so intelligent. His eyes are almost human. How I should like to own him!"
"Come, Alexis," said the owner of the animal, who was a horse trainer, "do you like pretty girls?"
The man gave a side glance at Serena and Martha as he asked the question. Alexis bowed a decided affirmative.
"Do you like them when they disobey their mothers?" The horse shook his head, his mane switching about very prettily.
"What's your age?" Alexis pawed the ground five times with his right fore foot.
"You never lie about your age?" The horse said "no," in the same manner as before.
"Can you waltz? Let's see." The man whistled "Love, I will Love You Ever," and the horse waltzed about in the road.
"Do you see any little girl that you would like to make friends with?" Alexis went over to Martha. "Don't be afraid, my dear," said the horse trainer. "He is very gentle." The home stuck out his head toward Martha and pinched her sleeve between his lips. The girl was not in the least taken aback and stood stroking the home's head as her father came up. He was talking with Mr. Hazlitt, Serena's father.
"Hello," said Mr. Capp. "He's pretty friendly, ain't he? You'd like to own him, eh?" he said in reply to a faint remark made by Martha. "What do you want for a hoss like that?" Mr. Capp inquired of the trainer.
"Well, homes don't bring very much now—bicycles are running them out and feed's high—I'll let him go dirt cheap, though I do hate to part with him. Say a hundred dollars."
"Oh, sho!" replied Mr. Capp, "I can git four good hosses for that."
"But there are few that know so many tricks, and he's a first-class saddle-home—safe, gentle—any lady can ride him—and he can go fast. Wait a minute."
The man threw a saddle on Alexis's back, tightened the cinch, grasped the bridle rein, and, leaping upon his back, made a flying gallop over to the mill and back again, scattering the sawdust with which the road was covered.
"He's a good goer," observed Mr. Hazlitt, "and he seems to be sound. He's wuth the money. I'd buy him myself if I needed another hoss."
Mr. Capp examined Alexis all over, with particular attention to his teeth. "He's 'bout seven year old, I should say," was his remark on finishing the dental inspection.
"Only five," said the trainer. "Ain't you, my pretty?"
The horse pawed five times on the ground. "And you love the ladies?" (A bow.) "And like bad boys?" (A decided "No.") "Ain't he cute?" remarked Mr. Capp. "Wal, I'll give you seventy-five for him."
The trainer looked injured.
"One hundred or nothing," he said quietly. "And he knows lots of other tricks. He can stand on his hind legs, twist a faucet and turn on the water, open gates, and lots of things."
Mr. Capp looked again at the horse, very critically, Martha urging him to buy it. Meanwhile Serena was eyeing her with a dark-green look. She was very envious of Martha for her chance of the possession of the beautiful animal.
"I didn't tell you he was part Arabian, did I?" said Alexis's owner. "Well, you saw how he could go. He's good in a buggy, too, and he will stand anywhere. You can try him if you want to. He's dirt cheap at that figure."
"I dunno but he is," mused Mr. Capp, still looking at Alexis, "and I like a pinto."
"Don't let them buy him—don't," pleaded Serena, pulling at her father's coat. "I want him so bad—so bad. Tell the man you'll take him, won't you, Pa?"
"Oh, we got hosses 'nough. Of course, we might sell or trade and keep this feller. I like a pinto. They ain't common, and he's sound as a dollar."
Standing on the side of the horse opposite to Mr. Capp, Serena's father looked closely at the animal and did not turn away until his neighbor said with a sigh:
"Wal, I'd like to own him, but money's pooty tight—pooty tight; and I got plenty ways to spend it."
"That's jest my fix, too," said Mr. Hazlitt.
"If either of you gents wants him, send me word," called the trainer as the two men walked away toward the store. The girls remained until the horse trainer rode off. They heard him say that he was going to Red Cafion. Martha walked sadly home.
"And I wanted him so bad—but he cost so much," she said to her mother. "He's worth ten such slow pokes as old Kit."
Later in the afternoon Mr. Capp returned home. Then began a teasing and cajoling that would have softened the heart of a graven image. Mr. Capp was well-to-do and he was really sorry now that he had not purchased the horse.
"I should 'a-liked to seen Marthy ridin' on him," he said to his wife.
"Well, we could sell Kittie," suggested Mrs. Capp.
Martha overheard their talk and broke in:
"Yes, she's an old poke and she's balky. She balked with me the other evening on the hill."
"Wal, I s'pose it's too late now," said her father.
"No, it isn't; he's gone to Red Cañon. He must be nearly there by this time. It's two o'clock. We could telephone."
"All right—we'll do it."
"Come on, then." Martha flew ahead of her father to the store where the telephone was, full of excitement and trepidation. She feared the man might have left the main road at Brooks's and not gone to Red Cañon after all.
Serena saw Martha go to the store, and she tripped after her. She heard Mr. Capp talking to the telephone girl at Red Cañon, and heard him say:
"All right—tell him when he gits there that I'll take the horse. What's that? Yes, me—I'm Silas Capp, you know. Tell him I'll take him. Yes, the horse. I'll pay him his price—one hundred. Jest tell him to call me up when he gits there. Good-bye."
Serena ran to her father and told him the news.
"We can get him yet," she said. "It isn't too late. They haven't talked with the man over the 'phone. He's to call them up when he gets to Red Cañon. We can get him yet."
"How?" asked her father, to whom the telephone was something vague.
"Why, come with me, if you don't want the Capps to get him. Come on, Pa." And Serena fairly bundled her father out of the house, while her mother said, "Oh, you impetuous little thing!"
When Serena and her father reached the store, Martha was sitting on a cracker box awaiting the tinkle of the telephone bell and the call from the horse trainer. Serena whispered to her father:
"They haven't heard from that horseman yet. Our chance is as good as theirs."
Great was Martha's surprise and indignation when Serena called up Red Cañon and asked if the horse trainer had arrived there yet. She saw Serena's satisfied smile when the answer came, and could have bitten her when she heard her say:
"All right. Tell him Mr. Hazlitt will take the horse he was looking at here at the price he named—one hundred dollars. Tell him to call us up as soon as he comes. I'll wait."
Serena hung the receiver on the hook and smiled again as she glanced at Martha, sitting on the cracker box. Neither of the girls spoke during the half-hour of waiting. Their fathers had both gone home, leaving them there to receive the calls from the horseman. But when that important individual reached Red Cañon he did not go to the telephone. He merely sent word by a messenger to the telephone office to ring up the Sierra Springs agent and tell him to say to Mr. Capp and Mr. Hazlitt that he would keep the horse there ready for them until the next morning. If either gentleman wished the animal all he had to do was to bring or send the money. He could not give them any further time, for he was in a hurry. The one who placed the money in his hands first should have the horse. When the agent told Serena and Martha this they stared at each other.
"Well," said Martha, "I think that's unfair. We made our offer first."
"Oh," said Serena, "it's fair enough. He'd said what he'd do."
"I know he did," replied Martha, "and it's mean of him."
The girls ran home and told their fathers. Mr. Capp had the money ready, but he did not wish to drive twenty miles to Red Cañon and back again.
"Let me go," said Martha. "I can ride Kit down and Alexis back. Kit leads all right."
"Wal," said Mr. Capp, "you're a great wheedler anyway, Marthy. But suppose Hazlitt gets there first?"
"He won't," grimly replied Martha, shutting her teeth very tight. She took the money hastily, saddled Kittie and was away down the cañon as fast as her "slow poke" could go.
She had not gone three miles before she heard hoofs beating behind her, and soon Serena shot past with a little cry of triumph, to which was added, "You might as well go back, Martha. That horse is ours!"
Martha, much dejected, let Kittie fall into a jog-trot. Her eyes were downcast and there were tears in them. That beautiful pinto horse would have to be given up and all because of her old "slow poke."
Of a sudden her face lighted up and determination spread itself over it. The flume! It ran straight and swift. It was shorter than the road and a much quicker route. A mile below there was a station where she might get upon a raft and start on the flying trip. It did not occur to her that she had never taken a flume journey. She would dare anything for that horse. She struck Kittie smartly with her switch and soon she was at the flume station, where the water ran slower for a little way in an almost level space. She knew the mill-man there and he agreed to take care of her home. He also nailed the planks together for a raft, and in ten minutes after she reached the station she was ready for the journey.
"Sit straight up, Marthy, on this seat I've made for you and be careful not to move to one side or the other. You'll get there on time, I guess, if the other girl ain't got too big a start."
Martha took her position aboard the raft and, full of a strange new excitement, she saw herself and her odd craft move slowly at first and then gather speed. Her hair, which she always wore in curls, swept back from her head and her skirt blew in the wind, while her hat would have gone had not the elastic band slipped down upon her neck.
"Good-bye!" yelled the mill-man when she had made a turn. She waved her hand to him, but could not speak. Swiftly the raft glided down the flume, whizzing past great rocks and trees that almost grazed her shoulder. Often she could have reached out and touched the trunk of a pine, and sometimes soft branches scraped her side, though she ducked her head to avoid violent contact. Sometimes she caught glimpses of the road, but she saw nothing of Serena. She held her breath in awe when she flew along in the places where the flume was bracketed upon the side of a steep, high cliff, and she dared not look down to where the river lay like a mere ribbon below her.
On and on she sped, and, though she had never traversed this route before, it seemed to her that she must be nearing the end, when she caught sight of a dust cloud down the road. Gaining upon it she saw that it enveloped Serena and her horse. The flume ran on a gentle decline here, and when Martha overtook her rival, which happened to be where road and flume came near together, the girls could distinguish each other veiy plainly. Martha gave a shout and cried:
"Good-bye, Serena!"
"You mean thing!" retorted her auburn-haired adversary. "You don't race fair—but I'll beat you yet!"
A sharp cut of her whip put an exclamation point to her sentence, and her home bounded forward, ahead of Martha's raft.
Just at that point a steep pitch in the flume began, taking the raft suddenly and swiftly far below the level of the road and out of sight among the trees. The straight pine trunks seemed to fairly fly past the girl upon the scudding timbers, as telegraph poles race backward toward the traveller by railroad express, and they reeled off the miles so rapidly that the calmer water of the flume station at Red Canon soon came in sight.
Barely had Martha given the horse trainer the money for the beautiful pinto and taken a receipt when in a whirl of dust the panting and perspiring Serena rode up. The defeated girl threw her pony almost upon its haunches as she came to a stop, a glow of jealous rage upon her face. But it cleared instantly, and she said with almost her customary cordiality:
"You had to fly a flume to beat me, Martha; next time you'd better saddle a cyclone!"
- ↑ Copyright, 1901, by The Shortstory Publishing Company. All rights reserved.
This work is in the public domain in the United States because it was published before January 1, 1929.
The longest-living author of this work died in 1941, so this work is in the public domain in countries and areas where the copyright term is the author's life plus 82 years or less. This work may be in the public domain in countries and areas with longer native copyright terms that apply the rule of the shorter term to foreign works.
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