The Desert Home: The Adventures of a Lost Family in the Wilderness

“After breakfast the next morning, we started for the salt stream. We all went together, Mary riding the horse, while Cudjo and I carried the children in our arms. Frank and Harry took the kettle upon a long pole between them – each, at the same time, having his rifle in the other hand. The dogs of course followed us, and our house was left to take care of itself. We had hung the venison up on high branches, lest the wolves might take a fancy to it in our absence.

“Mary was charmed with the scenery as we passed along, particularly where the woods began to open, as they did, towards the upper end of the valley. She noticed the various kind of trees as we advanced, and at one time uttered a joyous exclamation, as though she had seen something that pleased her more than common.

“We questioned her as to what it was; but she would satisfy us no farther than by telling us, that she had made a discovery of nearly as much importance as our salt river. We were curious to know what it was, but my wife checked our curiosity by observing, very justly, that as we were happy enough at that time, she might make us too happy; and she should therefore reserve her secret until we got back to our house in the evening. ‘We may then be weary and out of spirits,’ added she, ‘but I have something to tell you that will make you all merry again.’

“I could not help admiring the good sense and patience of my wife, thus reserving pleasant news for a time when they might be more available in producing a happy effect.

“As we were marching through a small glade, talking and laughing in high glee, an animal leaped out of some bushes before us, and ran slowly off to one side. It was a beautiful little creature, about the size of a cat, with dark glossy hair, spotted about the head and neck, and with clear white stripes running along its back. It did not go far before it stopped; and, throwing up its long bushy tail, looked back at us with the playful and innocent air of a kitten. I knew very well what the pretty creature was. Not so the impetuous Harry, who, thinking that here was the very ‘pet’ he wanted, dropped his pole, kettle, and all, and made after it.

“I cried out to him to desist; but the boy, either not hearing me – on account of the yelping of the dogs, who had also started in pursuit – or being too intent on making a capture, ran on after the animal. But the chase did not last long. The little creature, apparently not the least frightened at the terrible enemies that were so close upon its heels – stood near the edge of the glade, as if to await its pursuers Harry, as he ran, was all the while eagerly scolding off the dogs. He wanted to take the little beauty alive; and he feared that the mastiffs would kill it before he could come up. It looked, too, as if they would, for they were now almost on top of it yelping with open mouths. Just at this moment, the strange animal was seen to elevate its hind-quarters, throw its long tail forward over its back, and give a sudden jerk of its body, as if by way of an insult to its pursuers. But it meant something more than a mere insult. It meant to punish them for their audacity. The effect of that singular movement was at once apparent. The dogs suddenly wheeled in their tracks. Their victorious yelping was changed to a fearful howling; and both of them ran back thrusting their noses into the grass, and capering over the ground as if they had either been stung by wasps, or had suddenly fallen into convulsions! Harry stopped for a moment wondering at this. He did not stop long. The next moment we saw him throw his hands up to his face, and uttering a cry that betokened pain and terror, come running back as quick as he had gone off.

“The pole-cat (for it was a pole-cat – the mephitis chinga, or American skunk) after he had discharged the fetid shower, stood for an instant looking over his shoulder, in such a way that we could almost fancy he was laughing. Then jerking his tail from side to side in a frolicksome manner, he made a bound into the bramble, and disappeared.

“Whether the skunk laughed or not, we did – especially Frank, who took this method of retaliating upon his brother for dropping the great kettle against his shins. But we had no time to lose in talk, until we could get some distance from the glade, which was now filled with the suffocating smell; so, calling upon Harry to lay hold of his burden, we hurried as quickly as possible from the spot. The dogs, however, brought the effluvium along with them; and it required unusual scolding and pelting of stones to keep them at a respectful distance. Harry had come off better than I expected – as the animal had directed its battery against the dogs; and he had only received enough of the discharge to punish him for his rashness and disobedience.

“As we continued our journey, I took the opportunity to instruct my children in the habits of this singular animal.

“‘You have seen,’ said I, addressing myself to Frank and Harry, ‘that it is about the size of a cat, although broader and fleshier in the body, lower upon the limbs, and with a sharper and more elongated snout.

“‘You have seen that it is a spotted and striped animal – and in this respect it also resembles the cat, as these spots and stripes are different upon different individuals of the same species – so much so that no two skunks are exactly alike in colour.

“‘You have witnessed the efficient means with which Nature has armed it against its enemies; and I shall now tell you all the rest that is known of its habits.

“‘It is a carnivorous creature – destroying and eating many other beings that have life as well as itself. For this purpose it is furnished with strong, sharp claws, and three kinds of teeth, one of which – termed canine, or tearing teeth – is a certain symptom of its being a carnivorous, or flesh-eating animal. You must know, that the shape of the teeth will always prove this. Animals that feed upon vegetables, such as horses, sheep, rabbits, and deer, have none of these canine teeth. Well, the skunk has four of them – two in each jaw, and very sharp ones, too, – and with these he kills and eats (whenever he is lucky enough to get hold of them) rabbits, poultry, birds, mice, frogs, and lizards. He is very fond of eggs, too; and frequently robs the farm-yard, and the nests of the ruffed grouse and wild turkey – killing these birds whenever he can catch them. The killing, however, is not all upon his side – as the wolf, the horned owl, the wolverene, and the farmer, in their turn, lull him whenever they can catch him. He is not by any means a fast runner, and his safety does not lie in his swiftness of foot. His defensive armour is found in the fetid effluvium which, by a muscular exertion, he is capable of ejecting upon his pursuer. This he carries in two small sacs that lie under his tail, with ducts leading outward about as large as the tube of a goose-quill. The effluvium itself is caused by a thin fluid, which cannot be seen in daylight, but at night appears, when ejected, like a double stream of phosphoric light. He can throw it to the distance of five yards; and, knowing this, he always waits till the pursuer has fairly got within range – as the one we have just seen did with Castor and Pollux. The discharge of this fluid rarely fails to drive off such enemies as wolves, dogs, and men. Sometimes it occasions sickness and vomiting; and it is said that there are Indians who have lost their eyesight from inflammation caused by it. Dogs are frequently swollen and inflamed for weeks, after having received the discharge of a skunk. In addition to the disagreeableness of this odour, there is no getting rid of it after the fluid has once been sprinkled over your garments. Clothes may be washed and buried for months, but it will still cling to them; and where a skunk has been, killed, the spot will retain the scent for many months after, even though deep snow may have been lying upon it.

“‘It is only when attacked or angered that the animal sends forth his offensive fluid; and when killed suddenly, or before he has had time to “fire it off,” nothing of the kind is perceived upon his carcass.

“‘The skunk is a burrowing animal, and in cold countries he enters his hole, and sleeps in a half-torpid state throughout the winter. In warm climates, however, he continues to prowl about all the year round, generally at night – as, like most predatory creatures, the night is his day. In his burrow, which runs several yards underground, he lives, in company with ten or a dozen of his companions. The female has a nest in one part, made of grass and leaves, where she brings forth her young – having from five to nine kittens at a birth.

“‘Strange as it may appear, the Indians, as well as many white men – hunters and others – eat the flesh of this animal, and pronounce it both savoury and agreeable – equal, as they allege, to the finest roast pig. So much for the skunk and his habits. Now to the making of our salt.’”

Chapter Twenty Three.

The Salt Spring

“We had now arrived on the banks of the salt creek; but as we saw the cliff close by, and knew that we must be near the spring which supplied this little rivulet, we resolved to travel on to the fountain-head. A few hundred yards farther brought us to the spring, and it was well worth travelling a little farther to see.

“Near the bottom of the cliff were several round objects, looking like half globes, or bowls turned upon their mouths. They were of a whitish colour, resembling white quartz rock; and of all sizes, from that of a large baking oven to the size of a wooden dish. In the top of each there was a round cavity – like a little crater of a volcano – and in this the blue water bubbled and boiled as though a hot fire was in the ground underneath them. There were in all nearly twenty of these, but many of them were without the crater-like cavity in the top; and through the latter, of course, no water escaped to the creek. These were old ones, that had ceased to run.

“It was evident that these oven-looking mounds had been formed by the water itself, which had been depositing the sediment that formed them for many, many years. Around some of them there grew beautiful plants and shrubs, whose leaves and flowers hung over, trailing in the water; and from the cliff above long vines crept out, covered with gay scarlet blossoms. Bushes of wild currants grew all around, and the fragrance of their leaves scented the air. It was altogether a sweet, cool spot, and filled us with feelings of enjoyment.

“After we had satisfied our curiosity in examining these objects, we prepared to make our salt. Frank and Harry collected armfuls of dry wood for the fire, while Cudjo erected a crane in his usual fashion. Upon this the kettle was suspended, and filled with crystal water out of one of the natural basins. The fire soon blazed under it, and we had nothing more to do than wait until the evaporation should be completed by boiling.

“For this purpose we chose a spot where the ground was carpeted with a soft green turf; and upon it we all sat down to wait the result.

“I need not say that in this we had a deep interest, amounting, in truth, to anxiety. It might not be salt after all. The water tasted salt – that is true. But so, too, would water impregnated by the sulphate of magnesia or the sulphate of soda. When evaporated we might find one or other of these substances.

“‘What is the sulphate of magnesia, papa?’ inquired Frank.

“‘Perhaps you would know it better by the name of Epsom salts!’ rejoined his mother, with a knowing smile.

“‘Bah!’ returned he, with a grin upon his face, ‘I hope it won’t turn out that. But what sort of thing, then, is the sulphate of soda?’

“‘That is the scientific name for Glauber’s salts.’

“‘Worse still! I don’t think we stand in need of either. Do we, Harry?’

“‘Not a bit of it,’ responded Harry, also grinning at the thought of these well-known specifics. ‘I would rather it should turn out saltpetre and sulphur. Then we could make lots of gunpowder.’

“Harry was a great shot – as we have seen – and one of his fears was, that our stock of powder would run out.

“‘Do not wish for that, Harry,’ said his mother. ‘Gunpowder we can do very well without. Let us hope for something more necessary to us at present.’

“With such-like conversation we passed the time, while we watched the steaming kettle with feelings of anxious expectation.

“For myself, I had some reliance upon a fact which I had observed years before, and had regarded as singular. It was this. I believe the Creator has so disposed it, that salt, so essential to animal life, is to be found in all parts of the globe, either in rocks, springs, standing lakes, incrustations, or in the ocean itself. No part of the earth, of great extent, is without it; and I had noticed in the interior territories of the American continent – where the sea is too distant to be visited by animals – that Nature has provided numerous salt springs, or ‘licks,’ as they are termed in the language of the country. These springs from time immemorial have been the meeting-places of the wild creatures of the forest and prairie, who resort thither to drink their waters, or lick the saline soil through which these waters run. Hence their common name of ‘licks.’ Here, then, was a valley whose four-footed inhabitants never roamed beyond its borders. I felt confident that Nature had provided for their wants and cravings by giving them everything necessary to their existence, and, among other necessities, that one which we were now in search of ourselves – salt. In other words, but that this was a salt spring, or there existed some other such in the valley, these creatures would not have been found within it. I took the opportunity to point out this theory to my boys, as well as to show them – what I myself clearly recognised in it – the hand of the Creator. It rendered them confident that, when we had evaporated our water, we should get salt for our pains.

“‘Papa,’ inquired Frank, who was a great naturalist, ‘I should like to know what makes this little rivulet run salt water.’

“‘No doubt,’ I replied, ‘the water you see gushing forth has just been passing through vast beds or rock-salt, and has become impregnated with it.’

“‘Rock-salt! and is the salt we use found in rocks?’

“‘Not all of it, though great quantities are. There are beds of rock-salt found in many countries – in England, and the East Indies, in Russia, and Hungary, and Spain; and it has also been discovered in vast quantities in this very Desert we are now dwelling in. These beds of rock-salt, when worked to supply salt, are called salt-mines. The most celebrated are in Poland, near the city of Cracow. These have been worked for seven hundred years; and there is enough left in them to supply all the world for many centuries yet to come. These mines are said to be very beautiful – lit up, as they are, by numerous lamps. The rock has been excavated by the miners into all sorts of shapes. Houses, chapels, columns, obelisks, and many other ornamental forms of buildings, have been made; and these, when illuminated by lamps and torches, appear as splendid and brilliant as the palaces of Aladdin.’

“‘Oh! I should like so much to see them!’ cried Harry, in a transport.

“‘But, papa,’ inquired Frank, who always sought after information on such subjects, ‘I never saw any of this rock-salt. How is it that it comes to us always crushed, or in great bricks, as if it had been baked? Do they break it fine before it is sent to market from the mines?’

“‘In some of these mines nothing more is required than to crush the rock; in others, however, the rock is not pure salt, but mixed with other substances, as oxide of iron and clay. In these cases it is first dissolved in water, to separate it from such impurities, and then evaporated back again into salt, precisely as we are doing now.’

“‘What colour is the salt-rock, papa?’

“‘When pure it is white; but it assumes various colours, according to what substances may be found mixed with it. It is often yellow, and flesh-coloured, and blue.’

“‘How pretty it must be!’ exclaimed Harry; ‘like precious stones, I declare.’

“‘Yes, it is a precious stone,’ rejoined his brother; ‘more precious, I take it, than all the diamonds in the world. Is it not, papa?’

“‘You are quite right,’ I replied. ‘Salt-rock is more valuable to the human race than diamonds; though they, too, have an absolute value, besides their value as a mere ornament. There are some important uses in arts and manufactures to which they can be applied.’

“‘But, papa,’ again inquired Frank, determined to know everything he could about the article of salt, ‘I have heard that salt is made of sea-water. Is it so?’

“‘Vast quantities of it.’

“‘How is it made?’

“‘There are three ways of obtaining it: – First, in warm climates, where the sun is strong, the sea-water is collected into shallow pools, and there left until it is evaporated by the sun’s rays. The ground where these pools are made must neither be muddy nor porous, else the salt would get mixed with the mud and sand. Of course the people who manufacture it in this way take care to choose firm, hard ground for the bottoms of their pools. There are sluices attached to these pools by which any water that may not evaporate is drawn off. Salt is made in this manner in many southern countries – in Spain and Portugal, in France, and other countries that lie around the Mediterranean; also in India, China, Siam, and the island of Ceylon.

“‘The second way of making salt from sea-water is precisely the same as that I have described – except that, instead of these artificial pools, the evaporation takes place in broad tracts of country over which the sea has spread in time of high springtides. When the sea falls again to its proper level, it leaves behind it a quantity of water in these tracts, which is evaporated by the sun, leaving behind it fields of pure salt. Nothing remains to be done but to scrape this salt into heaps and cart it off; and at the next spring-tide a fresh influx of sea-water produces a new crop of salt, and so on. This kind is better than that which is made in the artificial pools – though neither of them is equal to the salt of the mines. They are both known in commerce under the name of “bay-salt,” to distinguish them from the “rock-salt” of the mines. Great natural beds of the bay-salt are found in the Cape de Verde islands; also in Turk’s island and Saint Martin’s in the West Indies, and on Kangaroo Island, near the coast of Australia.

“‘There is still a third plan of making salt out of the sea. That is, by boiling the water, as we are doing; but this makes the worst of all salt; besides, it is far more expensive to manufacture salt in this way than to buy it from other countries. Indeed, this last plan would never be adopted, were it not that some foolish governments force their people to pay a heavy duty for importing salt into their country, thus making it still cheaper for them, costly as it is, to manufacture the article at home.’

“‘What makes the sea salt, papa?’

“‘That is one of the phenomena about which naturalists have a difference of opinion. Some of them say there are vast beds of salt at the bottom which keep the water always impregnated. I think this notion is very childish; and they who hold it offer only childish arguments to support it. Others assert that the salt water of the ocean is a primitive fluid – that it was always as it now is – which you will perceive is giving no reason at all, more than saying, “it is salt, because it was salt always.” This is an equally irrational theory. Others, again, believe that the saltness of the ocean is caused by the flowing into it of salt rivers. These, I think, hold the true opinion; but unfortunately they have failed, as far as I know, to answer the objections which have been raised against it. Your papa has reflected a good deal upon this subject, and believes that he can explain away all the difficulties that oppose this last theory. Probably he may take an early opportunity of doing so; but it will require more time than he can spare at present.’

“‘Is the sea equally salt at all places?’ inquired the philosopher Frank, after a short pause, during which he had been busily reflecting on what had been said.

“‘No; it is more so at the Equator than in the colder regions around the Poles. It is less salt in gulfs and inland seas than in the open ocean. This I believe I can also explain, because it would support the theory regarding the rivers of which we have just spoken. The difference of saltness in different parts of the sea is, however, very trifling.’

“‘How much salt is there in the sea-water?’

“‘Three and a half per cent nearly. That is, if you boil down one hundred pounds of sea-water, it will yield you about three pounds and a half of salt.’

“‘But are there not many lakes and brine-springs that contain a far greater proportion than that?’

“‘Many. There is a large lake lying in this very Desert, to the north-west of where we are, called the “Great Salt Lake.” The waters of that lake are more than one-third pure salt. There are many springs and rivers that contain a greater proportion than the ocean itself. It is to be hoped that our own little creek here will yield better than it. – But come! let us see how the kettle boils. We had almost forgotten it.’

“We approached our kettle, and lifted the lid. To our great joy, a scum was floating on the top, very much like crystals of ice forming upon half melted snow. Some of it was skimmed off and applied to our lips. Joy! it was salt– the pure chloride of sodium– equal to the best ever shipped from Turk’s Island.”

Chapter Twenty Four.

The Battle of the Snakes

“I need not tell you that the announcement was received with joyful acclamations; and that one and all satisfied themselves by tasting of the salt. It had crystallised into small cubes, as salt always does; and it was as white as snow, which proved its great purity. We had put into the kettle – which was a large camp-kettle – about four gallons of water, and when it was fully evaporated, we obtained not less than ten pints of salt, showing that the water of our spring was much more saline than the sea itself.

“When our first kettle-full was disposed of, we re-filled it with water, and again hung it over the fire. We also hung another vessel beside the kettle; and that was our frying-pan, in which several fine steaks of venison, seasoned with the new salt, were cooked for our dinner. We were not unmindful of the thanks which we owed to God for giving us this munificent supply of an article so much needed by us; and as soon as dinner was over, my wife took occasion to bring this subject pointedly forward and we sat for some time conversing upon it.

“All at once we were interrupted by a series of curious incidents, which took place within sight of our fire. Our attention was first drawn to them by hearing loud screams at a short distance from us, which we all recognised as the voice of the blue-jay. There is nothing unusual in hearing this bird screaming half the day – for it is, perhaps, more easily excited than any other feathered creature. But, if you have ever noticed, it utters a very peculiar cry when there’s something unusual ‘in the wind.’ When some much-dreaded enemy is at hand, its note becomes extremely shrill and disagreeable. So it was then; and for that reason it drew my attention, as well as that of my companions.

“We looked towards the spot whence the cry came. We could see the branches of a low tree in motion, and the beautiful sky-blue wings of the bird closing and spreading again as it fluttered through them. We could see nothing else upon the tree – that is, no enemy of the bird – nor on any of the trees near it. On lowering our eyes to the ground, however, we perceived at once what had set the jay to scolding. Slowly drawing itself along the earth, gliding through the grass and over the dry leaves – without causing even the driest of them to rustle – went a hideous reptile – a snake. Its yellowish body, dappled with black blotches, glittered as the sun glanced from its lubricated scales; while it rose and fell in wavy undulations as it moved. It moved slowly – by vertical sinuosities, almost in a direct line, with its head slightly raised from the grass. At intervals, it stopped – elevated its neck – lowered its flat coffin-shaped head, like a feeding swan – gently oscillated it in a horizontal direction – touched the crisp leaves with its red tongue, as though it was feeling for a trail– and then moved on again. In its frequent pauses, as it lay stretched along the ground it appeared cylindrical, as long as the tallest man, and as thick as a man’s fore-arm. Its tail ended in a horny appendage about a foot in length, and resembling a string of large yellowish ill-shaped beads, or a portion of its own vertebrae stripped of the flesh, this peculiarity told us its species. We saw before us the dreaded rattlesnake – the crotalus horridus.