Kitobni o'qish: «Bill Biddon, Trapper: or, Life in the Northwest»

CHAPTER I
OUT LATE AT NIGHT

“How is it, Nat? Any light yet?”

“Not the least sign of one, and it’s my opinion it will be a long time before we see another.”

“What! you haven’t given up all hopes of reaching the camp? I hope not, as I don’t relish the idea of camping out to-night.”

“Nor I either; but I’m thinking it will come to that sooner or later.”

“Well, there are several hours yet, in which we must plod onward,” I added, trudging wearily behind my companion.

Before going further, I may as well introduce my friend and myself. My companion answered to the name of Nathan Todd, and was a native of Maine. He was a tall, lank individual, with long, attentuated limbs and an awkward appearance generally. He was very meager and muscular, and when roused to a heat of passion, as quick and powerful as the panther. His gait was an ungainly, straddling one, and he was seemingly capable of anything but speed; but on one or two occasions since leaving the States, he had shown a fleetness of foot which was truly wonderful. He was a good, open-hearted fellow, and one who, when driven to the wall, would be a dangerous enemy. Once or twice, however, he had shown the white feather, and his natural timidity would often evince itself. As a consequence, Nat was not, perhaps, the safest companion in the hour of danger; but, for all that, there was no one in our party whose presence I would have preferred upon the night in which I introduce him to notice. There was no imminent peril threatening us, and Nat was a capital companion, who could while-away the hours, if he chose, with his inexhaustible store of anecdote and humor. I knew he entertained a warm affection for me, and would brave almost any danger rather than be suspected of his only deficiency. A single intimation would decide his course in a moment.

Nat wore a singular dress – half savage and half civilized. The pants and shoes were such as are fashionable in the enlightened world; but a capacious hunting-shirt encased his body, secured around the waist by a heavy band, and much the same as are worn by the hunters and natives of the Far West at the present day. The most striking part of his dress, however, was the hat. This he had brought with him from Maine, and it really seemed indestructible. It was a gray color, and having lost its band a long time before, had acquired the shape of a cone. When it rested on his head, the edge reached the shoulders behind, and the eyebrows in front, and the pointed peak was far off above the crown.

Nathan Todd’s face was full of shrewdness and good humor. He had a large, curved nose, broad mouth, and a fine blue eye. The chin was retreating; but this drawback was modified partly by a long tuft of yellow hair, the only signs of beard upon his face, except a shadowy mustache. The hair was long and sandy, and harmonized well with the rest of his countenance. There was ever a contraction of the eyebrows – a sort of unspoken question – so often seen in persons from “down east,” which indicated a prying, curious disposition.

As for myself, my name is William Relmond, and I hail from one of the middle States. Shortly after the announcement of the discovery of gold in California, I was seized with the lunacy that was carrying its thousands to the Pacific coast. I was well situated in life at home, but that was not considered. I must go and fish up a fabulous fortune also. I had one brother and several sisters, but our parents had been dead for some years, and we were residing with an uncle, the guardian of each, until maturity. A favorable opportunity offering I had made some preparation for the legal profession; but I was never inclined to Coke, and had no intention of pursuing the practice of the law in after life. At the age of twenty, then, without a settled purpose in life, I determined to make a journey to the El Dorado of the New World. I was not influenced solely by the love of gain, in taking this step, but the love of adventure urged me irresistibly on. I had heard wonderful stories of the boundless prairies, of the wandering hordes of Indians, their millions of buffaloes and horses, and the vast, billowy ocean of verdure and sunshine, and the Far West seemed the paradise of the world to me.

I was provided with an ample outfit at home, and departed amid the tears of my good uncle and affectionate sisters. I proceeded by the usual route to Independence, Missouri, where I made inquiries of the trains which were constantly leaving the point for Oregon and California. In my wanderings, I stumbled upon Nat Todd, my present companion. He had just arrived from his distant home, where he had left a widowed mother and a disconsolate sweetheart. But he said he was going to return, in just two years from the day he left, with a “rousing heap” of money, and intended to buy “Squire Hunt’s farm,” take Alminy down there, and live the rest of his life. His frankness and humor impressed me favorably; and, after a short conversation, we grasped hands, and swore to remain by each other till our adventures were terminated by death or a happy dénouement.

We engaged places in a train which left the next day. This company numbered nigh two hundred persons, and was composed of all kinds of characters, except females. There were French voyageurs, Irishmen, and an agent of one of the western fur companies, and the majority of the rest were those just from the plow or the workshop. They had secured the services of an experienced guide, and were well equipped for the perilous journey before them.

The overland route, at this time, was so alive with passing emigrants, that few depredations were committed by the Indians. The savages sometimes hung around companies, but as there were almost always other whites in sight, they rarely ventured upon any greater crime than pilfering. Nothing worthy of note occurred upon the journey for a length of time. We experienced the usual mishaps and trials of emigrants, but nothing more startling. We sometimes lost a part of our baggage and provisions in crossing the rivers, and were greatly discomforted by the terrific storms which often rage in these regions. Then, again, we traveled mile after mile, and hour after hour upon the dry, monotonous, glistening rolling prairie, so wearied and tired of the scene that we hardly exchanged a syllable for hours at a stretch.

At last, the plains of Kansas were reached. On the day in which I introduce my friend and myself to notice, we had descried a solitary antelope at a great distance upon the prairie, and set out to bring it down. We left our horses behind, hoping to reach the animal by stratagem. I approached it near enough to wound it, when it made off with the speed of the wind. Expecting to see it give out each moment, we followed it mile after mile, until gathering darkness warned us that night was at hand, when we halted in alarm, and were compelled to allow the antelope to escape, while we endeavored to retrace our steps. The caravan was nowhere in sight, and we doubted not that it had disappeared hours before. We left the train about noon, and had been warned that they would not halt or wait for us, and should we lose them, they would take no pains to hunt us up. But we heeded not this, as we expected to keep them constantly in view, and have the antelope cooked for our supper.

But I have shown how widely we were mistaken. We were compelled to see the night shut down around us, without bringing us any hope of spending it with our friends; and at a late hour we were still plodding aimlessly over the prairie.

“No light yet, Nat?” I asked, for the twentieth time.

“Well, I should think you had asked that question about often enough, to be suited with my answer.”

“I expect to ask it a dozen times more.”

“Then I’ll just answer at once for all, so I won’t be troubled agin with talkin’. No! there’s the answer.”

“I don’t know but what you are right, Nat. We must have come a long distance, utterly unconscious of it, in our eagerness to get that plaguey antelope, and it is useless to hope to reach camp again before morning.”

“That’s my opinion, exactly. That camp, I opine, is a good dozen miles off yet.”

“Then we may have a chance of reaching it still before morning, as this bright moon favors us.”

The moon, full and clear, had arisen an hour before, and its light illumined the prairie for a great distance around. Far away, on every hand, we could discern the blue outline of the horizon, while the prairie seemed to roll up against it like the dark boundaries of a mighty ocean. Everything was as silent and motionless as though we were treading a region of death.

Mile after mile, we trudged on, beguiling the time by conversation. The ground was dry and hard, and the vegetation scarce and stunted. The day had been quite warm, and there was a delicious coolness about the evening air that made it pleasant to walk an hour or so; but as more than double that time had expired since we commenced, it had long been exceedingly wearisome to us.

“I wonder whether those fellows will go a foot out of the way to pick us up,” muttered Nat, half to himself.

“I don’t believe they will. They told us they wouldn’t and they value their time too highly to waste it for a couple who are of no account to them, especially since we can fall in with other trains.”

“I reckon they’re of some account to us, being they have got both our horses and considerable of our traveling apparatus.”

“That is too true, Nat. In fact, since we have been walking here, I have persuaded myself that those fellows would, just as likely as not, turn something out of the way to get rid of us.”

“Somehow or other, I’ve felt just the same for a week.”

“Then, if we value our property, we mustn’t let them slip.”

“No; I’ll be shot, if we must!” exclaimed Nat, half angrily, striking at once into a more rapid walk. “If they run off with my mare, I’ll – I’ll – ” and again he strode faster over the prairie.

Long – long, we journeyed in silence. Nat’s apprehensions had been aroused, and he was willing to walk the whole night to come up with those in whose honesty he had so little faith. Now and then he would mutter incoherently to himself and shoot ahead, keeping me almost on a run to maintain my place beside him. Suddenly he halted, and turned upon me with an expression I shall never forget. I could see his eyes expanded to twice their usual size, and his whole face aglow beneath his monstrous hat, as he asked in a cold whisper:

“Wonder if there’s Injins about to-night.”

I laughed outright.

“Why, Nat, you ain’t afraid, are you?”

“Who said I was afraid? I just asked a question.”

“What possessed you to ask such a question?”

“Don’t know; just come into my mind. Do you s’pose there are any Injins roving round the country to-night?”

“I am sure I cannot tell, but I think it extremely probable. Are you fearful that there are some upon our trail?”

“There might be! No; I was thinking if we should come across any of them, they might be able to tell us whether any of them chaps think we’re lost, and have run off with my mare.”

“Should we meet a lot of those savages, no doubt they would tell us something else besides that.”

“I expect so,” and he wheeled around and strode ahead again. It was now getting near midnight, and I was completely worn out. It was out of the question to reach the camp that night, and we might as well submit to our fate at once, so I spoke rather decidedly.

“I’m tired of this.”

Nat turned and looked at me a second, and then answered:

“So am I. We’ve to camp out to-night, and there’s no use in waiting till morning afore we do it. Ain’t it lucky you brought your blanket with you? It would go hard to do without that to-night.”

“I brought it with me by merest chance, not thinking I should need it. It was indeed fortunate; and now let us prepare to use it.”

There was not much choice on the hard but warm earth. My blanket was ample and sufficient for us both. After some search, a small depression was selected, and in this I spread my heavy blanket. We then stretched ourselves upon it, pulled the ends over us, being sure to inclose our rifles in its folds, and resigned ourselves to sleep. In that lone hour, I forgot not that there was one arm upon which I could rely, and One only who could watch over me until morning, and to that protection I appealed.

Ere the sun was fairly above the horizon, we were up and upon our way. Knowing the company would not be in motion for several hours, we hoped to reach them before they breakfasted, and have a laugh over our night’s adventure. Nat led the way, and took long, rapid strides over the ground, seemingly oblivious of the existence of any one else. I kept beside him, now and then venturing a remark, but receiving no answer or intimation that I was heard.

Suddenly, my friend came to a dead halt, dropped the butt of his rifle to the earth with a ringing clamp, and wheeled upon me with one of those indescribable looks. I had seen these before, so that I knew something unusual was agitating him.

“What’s the trouble now?”

“It’s no use; we’ll never see that company agin.”

“What makes you think thus?”

“I know so. I had a dream last night that my mare was gone for ever and ever, and I know she is. Don’t you remember that fur agent told us they’d change the direction they’s traveling some time yesterday? They hadn’t done it when we left them, and they done it as soon as we got out of sight, I warrant.”

I now remembered hearing our guide remark, as also did the fur agent with us, that the trail we were following made an abrupt bend some miles ahead. We were traveling northeast at that time, and the contemplated change was nearly due southwest. This fact had entirely escaped our minds, until it now occurred to Nat, and we had, consequently, been proceeding in a wrong direction. By referring to the sun, we found we had gone far too much to the east in order to intercept the train, which was now in all probability many leagues to the southwest.

This was a discovery which was overwhelming. We had then been journeying in a direction which had brought us not a foot nearer the company than if we had remained motionless; and it was certain that the party was irrecoverably lost.

“This is a pleasant discovery, Nat.”

“Very.”

“I see no hope for your mare. She is probably a good day’s journey distant, and we do not know what direction to take to reach her.”

“That’s it,” replied Nat, ill-humoredly; “if I knowed sure what way to tramp to find her, I wouldn’t stop till I’d laid my hands on her for a certainty; but this trudging along, and just as like as not going away from her all the time, isn’t the thing.”

“I see no course left then, but to proceed south, in the hope of falling in with some emigrant train, or in striking the Oregon trail, north, and getting into California ahead of them.”

“The Oregon trail will have to be our destination, then. If these fellows find they’ve got the start of us, they won’t give us a chance to come up again, and we might as well try to catch the whirlwind as to follow them. No; we must try the ready for them when they come. How far is the trail off?”

“It can’t be more than a day’s journey; the trail follows the Platte through Nebraska, and I’m pretty sure we can reach it by nightfall, if we proceed pretty steadily and rapidly.”

The day was clear and pleasant, and the sky devoid of the least signs of threatening storm. There were two or three white clouds straggling off in the western horizon, but the sky was of a deep clear blue. We were now proceeding in a northward direction, intending to strike the Platte at the nearest point. South, east, and west the small waving hills of the prairie stretched, unrelieved by the slightest object, except in the west the far-off outline of some mountain-peak was just visible, resembling a slight pointed cloud against the blue sky. This disappeared at noon, and we were again like wanderers upon the illimitable sea. A short time after, Nat’s keen vision detected a number of black, moving specks far to the westward.

“An emigrant train, perhaps,” I suggested.

“They’re Pawnee Injins as sure as the world, and we’d better give them a wide berth.”

“Pawnee Indians! How do you know that? You never have been in this section before?”

“That’s true, but you don’t s’pose I started out here without first larning something ’bout the country and folks, do you? If you do, you’re mighty mistaken. Just let me know in what part of the country we are, and I’ll let you know what sights you will see, that is, if we are going to see any at all. But let’s keep to the east; I don’t want to keep them Pawnees in sight.”

“The Pawnee Indians are reported friendly to the whites.”

“Exactly; but have they been reported honest? If they should come upon us and take a fancy to our rifles, what is there to prevent them from taking them? And,” added Nat, with a shrewd shake of his head. “I’ve not faith enough in their good intentions to want ’em in sight at this particular time.”

There was a great deal of reason in his remarks, and it was not unwillingly that I turned my face more to the northeast, and soon saw them disappear from view.

Some time toward the middle of the afternoon we descried a solitary buffalo ahead. He had apparently left his friends and wandered about as though entirely lost. After considerable difficulty we approached nigh enough to bring him down. He was quite poor, and his flesh was strong and Oregon trail, and get into California first, and be tough; but we were glad enough to get it, such as it was. He was thrown on his face, with his knees bent under him, a keen knife run along the spine with just sufficient force to penetrate the skin, which was then pulled down each side. This done, we cut the choice portions out. Nat reserved the buffalo-skin for his blanket, and the rest was thrown away. We made a hearty meal, and about the middle of the afternoon again set forward, hoping to accomplish quite a distance ere nightfall.

Just at dark we reached a stream of considerable size, which I afterward learned was the Republican Fork of Nebraska. The point at which we struck it, was about where it leaves the territory of Kansas and enters Nebraska. Although no considerable stream, we concluded not to cross it before morning, and we made arrangements for passing the night upon its banks. There was considerable timber at different points, and a goodly quantity of driftwood lay scattered along its banks. As the river was quite low, we gathered several armfuls, and had a fire soon started. We had brought some meat of the slain buffalo with us, but concluded not to cook supper, as our appetites were satiated.

Seated round our fire, half-hidden in a depression in the river bottom, with the dark, glistening stream flowing silently by, and smoking our pipes, we naturally fell into an easy conversation.

“We can’t be far from the ‘trail,’ can we?” asked Nat.

“Farther than I suspected,” I answered. “The Republican Fork, which I am convinced is the stream out there, is over fifty miles from the Platte, which, with several other streams must be crossed before the trail is reached.”

“Fudge! I don’t believe I can head off them fellows after all, and my old mare and overcoat will go to thunder.”

“They will go somewhere where you will never see them again.”

“I know I’m bound to lose ’em, and I shan’t think any more about them.”

“That’s the best plan, Nat. They are no great loss.”

“I sh’d like to know whether that greaser or fur agent took them though,” interrupted my friend, earnestly.

After this he fell into a fit of musing, and we remained silent for some time. When the fire had burnt low, I arose and replenished it. Nat looked anxiously at the roaring blaze, carrying ashes and cinders high in the air, and reflecting far out upon the dark river, and he remarked:

“Wonder if some Injins won’t see that.”

“I guess not. We are so low down the bank that I think it can be visible for no considerable distance upon the prairie, and the bend in the river fortunately saves us from view up or down the stream. The only point from which it would attract attention is directly across from us.”

“And it looks suspicious enough there,” repeated Nat, in a whisper, removing his pipe and gazing across the river.

It did indeed look gloomy, forbidding, and threatening. Our fire was nearly on the level with the water, which rolled darkly and noisily at our very feet; and when its crackling blaze arose higher than usual, the low face of the opposite shore was struck by the light. At such times I could not help reflecting what favorable chances were afforded any foe who might be lurking opposite. I involuntarily shrunk from the fire, and felt relieved when the shore blended with the darkness.

It began to grow quite late, the fire had smoldered low, when Nat, removing his cap, turned upon me with:

“What do you think of our journey to California?”

I was at a loss to comprehend his meaning, and looked at him for an explanation.

“I mean to ask whether you feel in such a hurry to get to mines as you did when we were in Independence?”

Now, to confess the truth, the experience of the last week or two, and especially of the last two days, had done much toward dampening the ardor which I once thought could never leave me; and I believe, had I possessed moral courage enough, I should have seized the first opportunity to return to the comforts of a home, where I possessed enough to satisfy any sensible person’s ambition. Still I hesitated to commit myself.

“I cannot say that I am; but what induced you to – ”

“I’m sick of this business,” interrupted Nat, lengthening his legs with a spiteful jerk, and looking disgustedly into the fire.

“What has come over you?” I asked, half-amused at his manner.

“Well there’s that mare – ”

“But you promised not to think of her.”

“How can I help it, I should like to know? She’s gone sure, and there’s that overcoat, that cost me four dollars and a half in Lubec; and Alminy made a big pocket in it on purpose for me to fill full of gold chunks; and I should like to know how I am going to do it, when a Greaser has got it.”

“I am afraid that that would not be the only difficulty you would be likely to experience, Nat, in getting it filled.”

“And my jack-knife was in the coat-pocket, I declare!” exclaimed he, suddenly starting up and pinching alternately one pocket and then another. “Yes, sir, that’s gone, too; that’s worse than all the rest,” he added, despairingly, falling upon his elbow, and gazing abstractedly into the fire.

“That’s a trifling loss, surely, as you have your hunting-knife.”

“I’ve a good notion to get up and go back now,” he added, not heeding my remark. “I’m sick of this business. It’s bad enough to lose the mare, but when the knife is gone I can’t stand it.”

I knew this was but a momentary despondency with my friend, and for the sake of whiling away the time before sleep, I was inclined to humor it.

“But what will you do for that gold that you was going to buy Deacon Hunt’s farm with for your Alminy?”

“Let her go without it,” he answered, gruffly, without removing his gaze from the fire. “She can get along without it. I believe she only coaxed me to go off to Californy to get me out of the way, so that mean Bill Hawkins might take my place. If he does come any such game, he’ll catch it when I get back.”

I laughed deeply, but silently, as I witnessed his appearance at these remarks. It was so earnest and feeling, that it was impossible to resist its ludicrousness.

“Nat,” said I, after a moment’s thought, in which my mind had taken an altogether different channel, “I am free to own that I have little faith in our success in California. I left home in a flush of excitement, without considering the consequences of such a rash step, and they are now beginning to present themselves. I propose that we seek our fortune elsewhere. The fact that gold exists in California is now known all over the world, and we know there is not the remotest corner of her territory which is not swarming with hundreds who leave no means untried to amass their fortunes. I have no desire to wrangle and grope with them, and would much rather seek wealth elsewhere.”

“But where else?”

“If gold exists in one spot on the Pacific coast, it is right to suppose it exists in many others, and what is to prevent our finding it?”

“Have you thought of any place?”

“It seems to me that in Oregon, among the spurs of the Rocky Mountains, there must be fabulous quantities of the precious metal.”

“But why hasn’t it been found?”

“Oregon is thinly settled, and no suspicion has led them to search for it.”

“Well, let us dream upon it.”

A few more fagots were forthwith heaped upon the fire, and then we lay down for the night’s rest.

My companion had lain but a minute, when he suddenly sprang to his feet, and exclaimed:

“Hurrah for Oregon!”

“Be careful,” I admonished; “your indiscretion may be fatal. That wall of darkness across the river looks gloomy and threatening enough to me.”

“It does – hello! I’m shot – no, I ain’t, neither.”

That instant the report of a rifle burst from the other bank, and the bullet whizzed within an inch of my companion’s face.

“Heavens! are we attacked!” I ejaculated, starting back from the fire.

“I believe so,” replied Nat, cowering behind me.

We listened silently and fearfully, but heard no more. The fire smoldered to embers, the river grew darker, and the night, moonless and cold, settled upon us. But no sleep visited my eyelids that night. Till the gray dawn of morning I listened, but heard no more.