The Wild Man of the West Part 24

"So you won't return with us, young man?" said Macgregor to March Marston as he mounted his horse. "I'm in want of a stout young fellow, and you'll like the life."

"I thank ye, sir, for your good opinion," returned March; "but my mind's made up: I'll stick by my comrades; I like trappin', but I don't like tradin'--though I'm obliged to you for bein' so pressin' all the same."

The two parties bade each other adieu and separated--the one retracing its way through the Wild-Cat Pa.s.s; the other, with old Redhand at its head, descending into the beautiful country that has been briefly described in the last chapter.

Six quiet and peaceful weeks now succeeded to the stormy period that had just pa.s.sed. During this time they wandered pleasantly about in as beautiful a region of the world as the heart of man could wish to dwell in. They reached this country after several days' travel. After arriving they moved about from one beautiful spot to another, setting their beaver traps in the streams, and remaining a longer or shorter time at each place, according to their success in trapping and hunting.

The country was of so peculiarly diversified a formation, that, within the compa.s.s of ten miles, every possible variety of scenery existed-- from the level stretch of prairie to the towering snow-peaks of the mountains; from the brake-encompa.s.sed swamp, in which frogs, ducks, geese, plover, and other denizens of the marshes maintained perpetual jubilee, to the dry bush-dotted mounds and undulating lands, where the badger delighted to burrow in the sandy soil, while in other places, the wolf, the fox, and the grisly bear prowled amid the dark recesses of the forest.

It was a truly beautiful and a pre-eminently enjoyable region, and, in the midst of it, under the spreading branches of a magnificent pine, which grew on the top of a little mound that commanded an extensive prospect on every side, the trappers pitched their camp, and began their campaign against the fur-bearing animals that dwelt there.

It was a quiet sunny Sabbath morning when our trappers arrived at the tree above referred to. They had encamped the previous night on a swampy piece of ground, having travelled too late to afford time to search for a better spot, so that they were glad to rise and push forward at the peep of day on Sabbath. But when, in the course of a couple of hours, they reached the dry country, they at once proceeded to encamp.

During their journeying the trappers had mutually agreed to rest from all labour on the Sabbath day. Some of them did so from no higher motive than the feeling that it was good for themselves and for their beasts to rest one day in seven from bodily labour. Although not absolutely regardless of religion, they nevertheless failed to connect this necessity of theirs with the appointment of a day of rest by that kind and gracious Father, who has told us that "the Sabbath was made for man." Made for him not only, and chiefly, for the benefit of his soul, but also, and secondarily, for the good of his body.

Others of the party there were, however, who regarded the Sabbath rest in a somewhat higher light than did their comrades; though none of them were fully alive to the blessings and privileges attaching to the faithful keeping of the Lord's day. Independently altogether of the delight connected with the contemplation of the wonderful works of G.o.d in the wilderness--especially of that beautiful portion of the wilderness--the trappers experienced a sensation of intense pleasure in the simple act of physical repose after their long, restless, and somewhat exciting journey. They wandered about from spot to spot, from hill to hill, in a species of charming indolence of body, that seemed to increase, rather than to diminish, the activity of their minds.

Sometimes they rambled or rested on the sunny slopes in groups, sometimes in couples, and sometimes singly. March Marston and the artist sauntered about together, and conversed with animated fluency and wandering volubility--as young minds are wont to do--on things past, present, and to come; things terrestrial and celestial. In short, there was no subject, almost, that did not get a share of their attention, as they sauntered by the rippling brook or over the flowering plain, or stood upon the mountain side. They tried "everything by turns, and nothing long," and, among other mental occupations, they read portions of the Bible together; for Bertram found that March carried his mother's Testament in an inner breast-pocket of his hunting-s.h.i.+rt, and March discovered that his friend had a small copy of the Bible--also a mother's gift--which shared the pouch of his leather coat with the well-known sketch-book. They conversed freely and somewhat boldly on what they read, and we doubt not that our learned divines, had they listened to the talk of the youthful pioneer and the young hunter, would have been surprised, perhaps edified, by the simple, practical, common-sense views promulgated by those raw theologians. Certainly, any one listening to the grave, kindly, philosophical commentaries of March Marston, would never have believed in the truth of that statement at the commencement of this story, wherein it is a.s.serted somewhat positively that "March Marston was mad!"

Bounce, and Big Waller, and Black Gibault, drew naturally together and speculated, after their own peculiar fas.h.i.+on, on every subject of thought within the reach of their capacities; and as Bounce's capacities embraced a pretty wide range, the "feelosophical" views he set forth upon that lovely Sabbath day were so varied, so eccentric, so graphic, and so apparently inexhaustible, that he effectually quelled Gibault's inveterate tendency, to jest, and filled Big Waller with deeper admiration than ever.

As for Redhand and the Indian, they wandered about in sympathetic silence, broken ever and anon by the old trapper pa.s.sing a remark on some interesting peculiarity of a leaf, an insect, or a flower. It has been said, that as men grow older they find deeper pleasure in the contemplation of the minute things of nature, and are less desirous than they were wont to expatiate on the striking and the grand. What truth there is in the remark we cannot tell; but, certain it is, while the younger men of the party seemed to cast longing, admiring, and gladsome looks over the distant landscape, and up at the snow-clad and cloud-encompa.s.sed heights of the Rocky Mountains, old Redhand bent his eyes, we might almost say lovingly, on the earth. He would sit down on a stone and pluck a leaf, which he would examine with minute care; or watch with the deepest interest the frantic efforts of a little ant, as it staggered along under its gigantic burden of a single seed, climbing over a mountainous twig, tumbling into a cavernous hole the size of a hazelnut, or being brought to a hesitating pause by a mountain torrent a quarter of an inch broad.

The sedate Indian took special pleasure in watching the doings of his old friend. Usually, he contented himself with a grunt of a.s.sent when Redhand made a remark on the peculiarities of a plant or an insect, but sometimes he ventured on a brief observation, and occasionally even proposed a question to his aged companion, which Redhand found it difficult to answer. There was little interchange of thought between those two silent men, but there was much of quiet enjoyment.

So pa.s.sed the Sabbath day. Early on the following morning the trappers were astir, and before the sun tinged the mountain peaks, their beaver traps were set, an extensive portion of the territory they had thus quietly taken possession of had been explored in several directions, a couple of deer had been shot, a mountain goat seen, and a grisly bear driven from his den and pursued, but not killed; besides a number of wildfowl having been bagged, and an immense number of creatures, including mustangs, or wild horses, roused from their lairs.

When the scattered hunters returned to the camp to breakfast, they found themselves in a satisfied, happy state of mind, with a strong disposition, on the part of some, to break their fast without wasting time in cooking the viands. "It was of no manner of use cooking," Big Waller said, "when a feller was fit to eat his own head off of his own shoulders!" As for Gibault, he declared that he meant to give up cooking his victuals from that time forward, and eat them raw. The others seemed practically to have come to the same conclusion, for certain it is that the breakfast, when devoured on that first Monday morning, was decidedly underdone--to use a mild expression!

But it was when the pipes were lighted that the peculiarities and capabilities of that wild region became fully known, for then it was that each hunter began to relate with minute accuracy the adventures of that morning. As they had scattered far and wide, and hunted or trapped separately, each had something new and more or less interesting to tell.

March told of how he had shot a grey goose, and had gone into a moving swamp after it, and had sunk up to the middle, and all but took to swimming to save himself, but had got hold of the goose notwithstanding, as the drumstick he had just picked would testify. Bounce told of having gone after a moose deer, and, failing to come up with it, was fain to content himself with a bighorn and a buck; and Big Waller a.s.serted that he had suddenly come upon a grisly bear, which he would certainly have shot, had it not run away from him. Whereupon Gibault, wilfully misunderstanding, said, with a look of unutterable surprise, that he would never have believed it--no, never--had anybody else told him, that Big Waller had actually run away from a bear! He couldn't bear to hear of it, and would not believe it though Waller himself said it. As for Bertram, having filled the pages of his sketch-book, back and front, he was compelled to take to miniature drawing in corners and blank bits, and in this way began to book the entire region, and to revel in his loved art.

Several weeks pa.s.sed away, and during that time of peace and plenty, our trappers had it all to themselves. They caught and killed numbers of animals; stripped off, dried, and packed quant.i.ties of valuable furs; ate enormous meals, with the gusto of men who had laboriously earned the right to do so, and related stories and anecdotes enough to fill a huge volume. In short, they enjoyed themselves beyond conception, and Bertram agreed with March Marston in thinking that Bunyan's land of Beulah could not have surpa.s.sed that delightful region.

But one day there came a small cloud on their blue sky of felicity. An event occurred which rudely dispelled their pleasant dreams, filled their hearts with anxiety, and finally broke up their camp in a way that led to disastrous, though not altogether ruinous, consequences.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN.

BUSINESS UNPLEASANTLY INTERRUPTED--THE MOUNTAIN FORT IN DANGER--TRAPPERS TO THE RESCUE--A RUDE MEETING WITH FOES IN THE DARK--A WILD RACE--MARCH MEETS WITH A SEVERE MISFORTUNE.

One morning, just as the trappers were dropping into camp about the usual breakfast hour, laden with the produce of the trap and the chase, they were startled by the sudden appearance of a large band of mounted Indians, who galloped to the top of a neighbouring mound, and, crowding together, stood still to gaze upon the invaders of their hunting grounds, for such they deemed the trappers, no doubt.

To s.n.a.t.c.h up their arms and run to a place of safety was the work of a moment. It must not be supposed that such experienced men as Redhand and Bounce were altogether unprepared for a surprise of this sort. On the day of their arrival at the hunting ground, their first care had been to select such a place for their camp as lay in close proximity to some natural stronghold. Not ten paces from the camp fire there was a sort of hollow in the ground, on the very summit of the mound on which they were encamped. Here all their valuables had been placed, and round the edge of the hollow a rude breastwork had been raised, so that the party, when in it, could fire through little openings in the breastwork without exposing themselves to view.

To this fortress they retired the instant the Indians made their appearance. Fortunately all the members of the little party had come in.

"They're holdin' a council o' war," said Bounce, carefully examining the priming of his piece. "It's as like as not they'll attack us, but they'll get a hearty and an oncommonly warm welcome."

"They'll not attack us," said Redhand. "They know that white men never travel without plenty of powder and ball, and they don't like taking a place by storm."

"Ay," remarked Waller sarcastically, "'cause they knows that the first man as comes on is sartin sure to fall, an' they knows that they can't come on without somebody comin' first."

"But there's brave fellers among the redskins," rejoined Bounce. "I knowed a set o' young fellers as banded theirselves together, and swore they'd go through fire an' water, thick an' thin, but they'd niver turn back from the face o' danger wherever they met it. So, one day they wos crossin' a river on the ice, an' the first on 'em fell in, an' wos carried away by the current; an' what does the second do, but he walks straight into the hole, an' wos drowned too; an' the nixt wos goin' to foller, when the old warriors ran at him an' forced him back. If they hadn't stopped him, I do b'lieve--"

"They're makin' up their minds to do somethin' or other," interrupted March.

"I sincerely hope they won't fight," murmured Bertram earnestly. "It is fearful to think of the blood that is shed by these men needlessly."

From the conduct of the Indians it became evident that on this occasion they sympathised with the artist in his desire not to fight, for one of their number dismounted, and, advancing unarmed towards the trappers, made signs of friends.h.i.+p.

"It's as well to be bold an' appear to trust 'em," said Redhand, laying down his rifle and leaping over the breastwork; "keep your guns ready, lads, an' if ye see treachery, let drive at once. Don't be afraid o'

hittin' me. I'll take my chance."

After a few minutes' conversation with the Indian, Redhand returned to his party.

"That redskin," said he, "tells me they're on an expedition to hunt the buffalo on the prairie, and that they're good friends of the white men, and would like to have a talk with us before they go on; but I don't believe 'em. From what I heard Mr McLeod say at the Mountain Fort, I think it not unlikely they are bound on an expedition against the whites. The very fact of their wis.h.i.+n' to keep friends with us instead of tryin' to lift our scalps and carry off our furs and horses, shows me they've some more pressin' business on hand. Mr McLeod described to me the appearance of one or two o' the Injuns that hates the fur-traders most, so that I might be on my guard, an' I'm quite sure that some of them are with that band. Now, what say ye? Shall I tell 'em we don't want their acquaintance?"

"Tell 'em they're a set o' lyin' thieves," said Big Waller. "I guess we'll have nothin' to say to 'em wotiver."

"Oui, et give to dem mine complements," added Gibault, "an' say we ver'

moch 'blige by dere goodness, mais dey vill all be shooted if dey not go away queek."

Redhand did not give these polite messages to the Indian, but on returning to him he presented him with a piece of tobacco, and advised him to continue his journey without loss of time, as the buffaloes were travelling south and might be out of the way when they reached the prairie.

Whether the Indians felt angry or not it is impossible to say. They seemed indifferent to their cool reception by the trappers, and soon after rode off at full speed, in a direction that led _away_ from the Mountain Fort, a circ.u.mstance which still further confirmed Redhand in his suspicions.

After an eager, hasty consultation, it was resolved that they should follow the savages, and if their trail was found to diverge, as was fully expected, towards the fort, that they should endeavour to pa.s.s them in the night, and proceed by forced marches, in order to get there in time to warn the fur-traders of their impending danger.

In less than an hour after the Indians left them, the trappers were galloping after them in hot haste. During the course of the day they found that the trail doubled back, as they had antic.i.p.ated, so, making a wide detour, they headed the Indians, and during the afternoon got a little in advance of them on their way to the Mountain Fort.

But the trappers had a subtle enemy to deal with. Just as the Indians were about to encamp that night for a few hours' rest, they chanced to diverge a short way from the direct line of march, and, in doing so, crossed the tracks of the trappers. A halt was called, and a minute inspection of the tracks made. One of the savages galloped back on them a considerable distance, and soon returned with the information that they led towards the camp of the pale-faces. From the appearance of the hoof-prints they knew that they were fresh, and thus at once guessed that their true intentions had been suspected, and might yet be frustrated by the trappers. Instead of encamping, therefore, they pushed on at full speed and very soon came up with the white men. It was a dark night, so that they could not see far in advance of them, and thus it happened that the two parties, on entering a narrow defile, almost rode into each other, with a yell of fierce surprise on both sides.

As there were at least fifty Indians, Redhand thought it better to avoid a doubtful combat by scattering his men through the woods, and letting each make the best of his way to the fort singly.

"Run, boys! scatter! to the fort!"

This was all that he deemed needful in the way of command or explanation. Firing a single volley at the enemy, they turned and fled.

"Foller me," shouted Waller to the bewildered Bertram, as a shower of arrows whistled past their ears. The artist obeyed mechanically, and in another moment they were flying through the wood at a pace that seemed, and actually was, reckless under the circ.u.mstances. But the Indians did not attempt to pursue. They knew that their intention had been discovered, and that their only chance of success now lay in outriding the pale-faces. The ride, in fact, became a long race, neither party making the slightest attempt to hunt up the other, but each straining every nerve and muscle to get first to the doomed fort.

The scattered trappers rode for a long time singly, but as they neared the fort, one or two of them met, and when they came first in sight of the tall flagstaff, Bounce, Redhand, and Gibault rode abreast.

McLeod was standing in front of the fort, when the three hors.e.m.e.n came das.h.i.+ng over the plain. He hastily summoned his men and closed the gate, but as the foremost rider came near, he was recognised; the gate was thrown open, and they galloped into the square. In a few hasty words their errand was explained. Arms and ammunition were served out, and six men were stationed at the gate, to be in readiness to open it to approaching friends, or to shut it in the face of foes.

But the others of the party were not so fortunate as these three. The Indians reached the fort before they did, and one of their number was left, unknown to them, in a state of insensibility near the spot where the first rencontre had taken place.

When the Indians and trappers met in the narrow defile, as before related, one of the arrows, which had been discharged very much at random, entered the shoulder of March Marston's horse and wounded it mortally. At first March thought the wound was slight, and, hearing the shouts of some of the savages not far behind him, he urged his horse forward as rapidly as the nature of the ground would admit of. Before he had gone a quarter of a mile, however, the poor steed fell, throwing March over its head. In his flight the youth's forehead came into violent contact with a branch, and he fell to the ground insensible.