: The Voyage of the Rattletrap by Carruth Hayden Wilder Herbert Merrill Illustrator - Dakota Territory Fiction

@FreeBooksTue 06 Jun, 2023

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MAP The Voyage First Suggested Preparations Grandpa Oldberry Presages Disaster Snoozer Mutiny Of The Pony Effect Of A Strange Noise Plan For Rousing A Sound Sleeper First Lesson In Hay Twisting Investigations Hats Milking The Heifer That Wore A Sleigh Robe Wet But Hopeful Anti-Horse Thieves Jack Shoots A Grouse Flight Of The Blacksmith Studying Botany "When The Winds Are Breathing Low" Sad Result Of Dishonesty First Night Camp In The Sand Hills Dark Doings Of The Cook No Horse-Feed The Careful Corn Owner A Study In Red Men A Good Salesman Big Bear Looks Into The Educational Situation A Lesson In Finance The Rattletrap In The Storm Effect Of A Dog On A Mexican Post-Mortem On A Grizzly 'gene Starts A Cook-Book Lack Of Confidence In Mankind Flying Cord-Wood The Deserted Ranch Old "Blenty Vaters" In The Prairie Fire Well! Well! Well!

THE VOYAGE OF THE RATTLETRAP

I: GETTING READY

Well, it's hard to decide where to begin this true history. We didn't keep any log on this voyage of the Rattletrap. But I'll certainly have to go back of the time when Grandpa Oldberry expressed his opinion; and perhaps I ought to explain how we happened to be in that particular port. As I said, we--Jack and I--were pretty big boys, so big that we were off out West and in business for ourselves, though, after all, that didn't imply that we were very old, because it was a new country, and everybody was young; after the election the first fall it was found that the man who had been chosen for county judge wasn't quite twenty-one years of age yet, and therefore, of course, couldn't hold office; and we were obliged to wait three weeks till he had had his birthday, and then to have a special election and choose him again. Everybody was young except Grandpa Oldberry and Squire Poinsett.

But I was trying to account for our being in the port of Prairie Flower. Jack had a cheese-factory there, and made small round cheeses. I had a printing-office, and printed a small square newspaper. In my paper I used to praise Jack's cheeses, and keep repeating how good they were, so people bought then; and Jack used, once in a while, to give me a cheese. So we both managed to live, though I think we sometimes got a little tired of being men, and wished we were back home, far from thick round cheeses and thin square newspapers.

One evening in the first week in September, when it was raining as hard as it could rain, and when the wind was blowing as hard as it could blow, and was driving empty boxes and barrels, and old tin pails, and wash-boilers, and castaway hats and runaway hats and lost hats, and other things across the prairie before it, Jack came into my office, where I was setting type , and after he had allowed the rain to run off his clothes and make little puddles like thin mud pies on the dusty floor, he said:

"I'm tired of making poor cheeses."

"Well," I answered, "I'm tired of printing a poor newspaper."

"Let's sell out and go somewhere," continued Jack.

"All right," I said. "Let's."

So we did.

Of course the Rattletrap wasn't a boat which sailed on the water, though I don't know as I thought to mention this before. In fact, a water boat wouldn't have been of any use to us in getting out of Prairie Flower, because there wasn't any water there, except a very small stream called the Big Sioux River, which wandered along the prairie, sometimes running in one direction and sometimes in the other, and at other times standing still and wondering if it was worth while to run at all. The port of Prairie Flower was in Dakota. This was when Dakota was still a Territory, three or four years, perhaps, before it was cut into halves and made into two States. So, there being no water, we of course had to provide ourselves with a craft that could navigate dry land; which is precisely what the Rattletrap was-namely, a "prairie schooner."

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