CHAPTER THREE.
THE BEAUTIES OF THE WILDERNESS--PORTAGES--PHILOSOPHY OF SETTLING DOWN--AN ENORMOUS FOOTPRINT--SUPPER PROCURED, AND A BEAR-HUNT IN PROSPECT.
After paddling, and hauling, and lifting, and tearing, and wading, andtoiling, and struggling, for three weeks, our hero and his friends foundthemselves deep in the heart of the unknown wilderness--unknown, atleast, to the civilised world, though not altogether unknown to thetrappers and the Red Indians of the Far West.
There is something inexpressibly romantic and captivating in the idea oftraversing those wild regions of this beautiful world of ours which havenever been visited by human beings, with the exception of a fewwandering savages who dwell therein.
So thought and felt young Marston one splendid afternoon, as he toiledup to the summit of a grassy mound with a heavy pack on his shoulders.Throwing down the pack, he seated himself upon it, wiped his heated browwith the sleeve of his hunting-shirt, and gazed with delight upon thenoble landscape that lay spread out before him.
"Ha! _that's_ the sort o' thing--that's it!"--he exclaimed, nodding hishead, as if the rich and picturesque arrangement of wood and water hadbeen got up expressly for his benefit, and he were pleased to signifyhis entire approval of it.
"That's just it," he continued after a short contemplative pause, "justwhat I expected to find. Ain't I glad? eh?"
March certainly looked as if he was; but, being at that moment alone, noone replied to his question or shared his enjoyment. After anotherpause he resumed his audible meditations.
"Now, did ever any one see sich a place as this in all the wide 'arth?That's what I want to know. Never! Just look at it now. There's milesan' miles o' woods an' plains, an' lakes, an' rivers, wherever I chooseto look--all round me. And there are deer, too, lots of 'em, lookin'quite tame, and no wonder, for I suppose the fut of man never restedhere before, except, maybe, the fut of a redskin now an' again. Andthere's poplars, an' oaks, an' willows, as thick as they can grow."
March might have added that there were also elm, and sycamore, and ash,and hickory, and walnut, and cotton-wood trees in abundance, withnumerous aspen groves, in the midst of which were lakelets margined withreeds and harebells, and red willows, and wild roses, and chokeberries,and prickly pears, and red and white currants. He might, we say, haveadded all this, and a great deal more, with perfect truth; but hedidn't, for his knowledge of the names of such things was limited, so heconfined himself, like a wise youth, to the enumeration of those thingsthat he happened to be acquainted with.
"And," continued March, starting up and addressing his remark to ahollow in the ground a few yards off, "there's grisly bars here, too,for there's the futmark of one, as sure as I'm a white man!"
Most people would have been inclined to differ with March in regard tohis being a white man, for he was as brown as constant exposure in hotweather could make him; but he referred to his blood rather than to hisskin, which was that of white parents.
The footprint which he had discovered was, indeed, that of a grislybear, and he examined it with more than usual interest, for, althoughmany of those ferocious denizens of the western woods had been alreadyseen, and a few shot by the trappers on their voyage to this point, nonehad been seen so large as the monster whose footprint now attractedMarston's attention. The print was eleven inches long, exclusive of theclaws, and seven inches broad.
While March was busily engaged in examining it, Black Gibault camepanting up the hill with a huge pack on his back.
"Ho! March, me garcon, vat you be find la?" cried the Canadian,throwing down his pack and advancing. "A bar, Gibault; Caleb himself.A regular big un, too. Just look here."
"Ah! oui, vraiment; dat am be one extinishin' vopper, sure 'nuff. Mais,him's gone pass long ago, so you better come avay an' finish deportage."
"Not I, lad," cried March gaily, as he flung himself upon the grassymound; "I'm goin' to admire this splendid country till I'm tired of it,and leave you and the other fellows to do the work."
"Oh! ver' goot," cried Gibault, sitting down beside our hero, andproceeding to fill his pipe, "I will 'mire de countray, too. Ha! it beunmarkibly beautiful--specially when beholded troo one cloud of tabaccasmoke."
"Alas! Gibault, we'll have to move off sooner than we expected, forthere it comes."
The two friends leaped up simultaneously, and, seizing their packs,hurried down the mound, entered the thick bushes, and vanished.
The object whose sudden appearance had occasioned this abrupt departurewould, in truth, have been somewhat singular, not to say alarming, inaspect, to those who did not know its nature. At a distance it lookedlike one of those horrible antediluvian monsters one reads of, with alank body, about thirty feet long. It was reddish-yellow in colour, andcame on at a slow, crawling pace, its back appearing occasionally abovethe underwood. Presently its outline became more defined, and it turnedout to be a canoe instead of an antediluvian monster, with Big Wallerand Bounce acting the part of legs to it. Old Redhand the trapper andHawkswing the Indian walked alongside, ready to relieve their comradeswhen they should grow tired--for a large canoe is a heavy load for twomen--or to assist them in unusually bad places, or to support them andprevent accidents, should they chance to stumble.
"Have a care now, lad, at the last step," said Redhand, who walked alittle in advance.
"Yer help would be better than yer advice, old feller," replied Bounce,as he stepped upon the ridge or mound which Marston and his companionhad just quitted. "Lend a hand; we'll take a spell here. I do believemy shoulder's out o' joint. There, gently--that's it."
"Wall, I guess this _is_ Eden," cried Big Waller, gazing around him withunfeigned delight. "Leastwise, if it ain't, it must be the very nixtlocation to them there diggins of old Father Adam. Ain't itsplendiferous?"
Big Waller was an out-and-out Yankee trapper. It is a mistake tosuppose that all Yankees "guess" and "calculate," and talk through theirnose. There are many who don't, as well as many who do; but certain itis that Big Waller possessed all of these peculiarities in an alarmingdegree. Moreover, he was characteristically thin and tall and sallow.Nevertheless, he was a hearty, good-natured fellow, not given toboasting so much as most of his class, but much more given to theperformance of daring deeds. In addition to his other qualities, thestout Yankee had a loud, thundering, melodious voice, which he was fondof using, and tremendous activity of body, which he was fond ofexhibiting.
He was quite a contrast, in all respects, to his Indian companion,Hawkswing, who, although about as tall, was not nearly so massive orpowerful. Like most North American Indians, he was grave and taciturnin disposition; in other respects there was nothing striking about him.He was clad, like his comrades, in a trapper's hunting-shirt andleggings; but he scorned to use a cap of any kind, conceiving that histhick, straight, black hair was a sufficient covering, as undoubtedly itwas. He was as courageous as most men; a fair average shot, and, whenoccasion required, as lithe and agile as a panther; but he was not ahero--few savages are. He possessed one good quality, however, beyondhis kinsmen--he preferred mercy to revenge, and did not gloat over theidea of tearing the scalps off his enemies, and fringing his coat andleggings therewith.
"'Tis a sweet spot," said Redhand to his comrades, who stood or reclinedin various attitudes around him. "Such a place as I've often thought ofcasting anchor in for life."
"An' why don't ye, then?" inquired Waller. "If I was thinkin' o'locating down anywhar', I guess I'd jine ye, old man. But I'm too fondo' rovin' for that yet. I calc'late it'll be some years afore I come tothat pint. Why don't ye build a log hut, and enjoy yerself?"
"'Cause I've not just come to that point either," replied the old manwith a smile.
Redhand had passed his best days many years before. His form was spare,and his silvery locks were thin; but his figure was still tall andstraight as a poplar, and the fire of youth still lingered in hisdark-blue eye. The most striking and attractive point about Redhand wasthe
extreme kindliness that beamed in his countenance. A long life inthe wilderness had wrinkled it; but every wrinkle tended, somehow, tobring out the great characteristic of the man. Even his frown hadsomething kindly in it. The prevailing aspect was that of calmserenity. Redhand spoke little, but he was an attentive listener, and,although he never laughed loudly, he laughed often and heartily, in hisown way, at the sallies of his younger comrades. In youth he must havebeen a strikingly handsome man. Even in old age he was a strong one.
"I'll tell ye what's my opinion now, boys, in regard to settlin' down,"said Bounce, who, having filled and lighted his pipe, now found himselfin a position to state his views comfortably. "Ye see, settlin' downmay, in a gin'ral way, be said to be nonsense. In pint o' fact, thereain't no sich a thing as settlin' down. When a feller sits down, why,in a short bit, he's bound to rise up agin, and when he goes to bed, hemeans for to get up next mornin'." (Here Bounce paused, drew severalwhiffs, and rammed down the tobacco in his pipe with the end of hislittle finger.) "Then, when a feller locates in a place, he's sure forto be movin' about, more or less, as long as he's got a leg to stand on.Now, what I say is, that when a man comes to talk o' settlin' down,he's losin' heart for a wanderin' life among all the beautiful things o'creation; an' when a man loses heart for the beautiful things o'creation, he'll soon settle down for good and all. He's in a bad way,he is, and oughtn't to encourage hisself in sich feelin's. I b'lievethat to be the feelosophy o' the whole affair, and I don't b'lieve thatnobody o' common edication--I don't mean school edication, but backwoodsedication--would go for to think otherwise. Wot say you, Waller?"
"Sartinly not," replied the individual thus appealed to.
Big Waller had a deep reverence for the supposed wisdom of his friendBounce. He listened to his lucubrations with earnest attention at alltimes, and, when he understood them, usually assented to all his friendsaid. When Bounce became too profound for him, as was not infrequentlythe case, he contented himself with nodding his head, as though to say,"I'm with you in heart, lad, though not quite clear in my mind; but it'sall right, I'm quite sartin."
"Well, then," resumed Bounce, turning to Redhand, "what do _you_ thinko' them sentiments, old man?"
Redhand, who had been paying no attention whatever to these sentiments,but, during the delivery of them, had been gazing wistfully out upon thewide expanse of country before him, laid his hand on Bounce's shoulder,and said in a low, earnest tone--
"It's a grand country! D'ye see the little clear spot yonder, on theriver bank, with the aspen grove behind it, an' the run of prairie onthe right, an' the little lake not a gun-shot off on the left? That'sthe spot I've sometimes thought of locatin' on when my gun begins tofeel too heavy. There'll be cities there some day. Bricks and mortarand stone 'll change its face--an' cornfields, an'--but not in our day,lad, not in our day. The redskins and the bears 'll hold it as long aswe're above ground. Yes, I'd like to settle down there."
"Come, come, Redhand," said Bounce, "this sort o' thing 'll never do.Why, you're as hale and hearty as the best on us. Wot on 'arth makesyou talk of settlin' down in that there fashion?"
"Ha!" exclaimed Waller energetically, "I guess if ye goes on in thatstyle ye'll turn into a riglar hiplecondrik--ain't that the word,Bounce? I heer'd the minister say as it was the wust kind o' the blues.What's _your_ opinion o' settlin' down, Hawkswing?"
To this question the Indian gravely replied in his own language (withwhich the trappers were well acquainted), that, not having the remotestidea of what they were talking about, he entertained no opinion inregard to it whatever.
"Well, wotiver others may hold," remarked Bounce emphatically, "I'mstrong agin' settlin' down nowhar'."
"So am I, out an' out," said Waller.
"Dat be plain to the naked eye," observed Gibault, coming up at themoment. "Surement you have settle down here for ever. Do you s'pose,mes garcons, dat de canoe will carry _hisself_ over de portage? Voila!vat is dat?"
Gibault pointed to the footprint of the grisly bear, as he spoke.
"It's a bar," remarked Bounce quietly.
"Caleb," added Waller, giving the name frequently applied to the grislybear by western hunters. "I calc'late it's nothin' new to see Caleb'sfut in the mud."
"Mais, it be new to see hims fut so big, you oogly Yankee," criedGibault, putting Waller's cap over his eyes, and running into the bushto avoid the consequences.
At that moment a deer emerged from the bushes, about fifty yards fromthe spot on which the trappers rested, and, plunging into the river,made for the opposite bank.
"There's our supper," said Bounce, quietly lifting his rifle in aleisurely way, and taking aim without rising from the spot on which hesat or removing the pipe from his lips.
The sharp crack was followed by a convulsive heave on the part of thedeer, which fell over on its side and floated downstream.
Big Waller gave utterance to a roar of satisfaction, and, flinging hispipe from him, bounded down the bank towards a point of rock, where heknew, from the set of the current, the deer would be certain to bestranded. Gibault, forgetting his recent piece of impertinence, dartedtowards the same place, and both men reached it at the same instant.Big Waller immediately lifted his little friend in his huge arms, andtossed him into the centre of a thick soft bush, out of which hescrambled in time to see his comrade catch the deer by the horns, as itfloated past, and drag it on shore.
"Hoh! I vill pay you off von time," cried Gibault, laughing, andshaking his fist at Waller. Then, seizing the last bale of goods thathad not been carried across the portage, he ran away with it nimbly upthe bank of the stream.
Big Waller placed the deer on his shoulders with some difficulty, andfollowed in the same direction.
On reaching the other end of the portage, they found the canoe reloadedand in the water, and their comrades evincing symptoms of impatience.
"Come on, lads, come on," cried March, who seemed to be the mostimpatient of them all. "We've seen Caleb! He's up the river, on thisside. Get in! He's sich a banger, oh!"
Before the sentence was well finished, all the men were in their placesexcept Black Gibault, who remained on the bank to shove off the canoe.
"Now, lad, get in," said Redhand, whose usually quiet eye appeared togleam at the near prospect of a combat with the fierce and much-dreadedmonster of the Far West.
"All right, mes garcons," replied Gibault; "hand me mine gun; I villvalk on the bank, an' see vich vay hims go--so, adieu!"
With a powerful push, he sent the light craft into the stream, and,turning on his heel, entered the woods.
The others at once commenced paddling up the river with energeticstrokes.
"He's a wild feller that," remarked Bounce, after they had proceededsome distance and reached a part of the stream where the current wasless powerful. "I'd bet my rifle he's git the first shot at Caleb; Ionly hope he'll not fall in with him till we git ashore, else it may gohard with him."
"So it may," said Waller; "if it goes as hard wi' Gibault as it did wi'my old comrade, Bob Swan, it'll be no fun, I guess."
"What happened to him?" asked March, who was ever open-eared forstories.
"Oh, it was nothing very curious, but I guess it was `onconvanient,' asthem coons from Ireland says. Bob Swan went--he did--away right offalone, all by hisself, to shoot a grisly with a old musket as wasn't fitto fire powder, not to speak o' ball. He was sich a desprit feller, BobSwan was, that he cut after it without takin' time to see wot wos in thegun. I follered him as fast as I could, hollerin' for him to stop andsee if he wos loaded; but I calc'late he was past stoppin'. Wall, hecomes up wi' the bar suddently, and the bar looks at him, and he looksat it. Then he runs up, claps the gun to his shoulder, and pulls thetrigger; but it wos a rusty old lock, an' no fire came. There was firecome from the bar's eyes, though, I _do_ guess! It ran at him, an' heran away. Of course Caleb soon came up, an' Bob primed as he ran an'wheeled about, stuck the muzzle of the old musket right into Caleb
'smouth, and fired. He swallered the whole charge, that bar did, as if ithad been a glass o' grog, and didn't he cough some? Oh no! an' heroared, too, jist like this--"
Big Waller, in the excitement of his narrative, was about to give avocal illustration, when Bounce suddenly extinguished him by clappinghis hand on his mouth.
"Hist! you wild buffalo," he said, "you'll frighten off all the barswithin ten miles of us, if you raise your horrable trumpet!"
"I do believe, I forgot," said the Yankee with a low chuckle, when hismouth was released.
"Well, but what happened to Bob Swan?" inquired March eagerly.
"Wot happened? I guess the bar cotched him by the leg, an' smashed itin three places, before you could wink, but, by good luck, I come up atthat moment, an' put a ball right through Caleb's brains. Bob gotbetter, but he never got the right use o' his leg after that. An' wefound that he'd fired a charge o' small shot down that bar's throat--hehad!"
"Hallo! look! is yon Caleb?" inquired March in a hoarse whisper, as hepointed with his paddle to a distant point up the river, where a darkobject was seen moving on the bank.
"That's him," said Bounce. "Now then, do your best, an' we'll land onthe point just below him."
"That's sooner said than done," remarked Redhand quietly, "for there'sanother portage between us and Caleb."
As the old man spoke, the canoe passed round a low point which hadhitherto shut out the view of the bed of the river from the travellers,and the vision of a white, though not a high, waterfall burst upon theirsight, at the same moment that the gushing sound of water broke upontheir ears. At any other time the beauty of the scene would have drawnforth warm, though perhaps quaint and pithy, remarks of admiration.Wood and water were seen picturesquely mingled and diversified inendless variety. Little islands studded the surface of the river, whichwas so broad and calm at that place as to wear the appearance of a smalllake. At the upper end of this lake it narrowed abruptly, and hereoccurred the fall, which glittered in the sun's bright rays like acascade of molten silver. The divers trees and shrubs, both on theislets and on the mainland, presented in some places the rich cultivatedappearance of the plantations on a well-tended domain; but, in otherplaces, the fallen timber, the rank tangled vegetation, and thebeautiful wild flowers showed that man's hand had not yet destroyed thewild beauty of the virgin wilderness. The sky above was bright andblue, with a few thin feathery clouds resting motionless upon its vastconcave, and the air was so still that even the tremulous aspen leaveswere but slightly agitated, while the rest of the forest's drapery hungperfectly motionless.
Complete silence would have reigned but for the mellow sound of thedistant fall and the sweet, plaintive cries of innumerable wildfowl thatflew hither and thither, or revelled in the security of their sedgyhomes. Flocks of wild geese passed in constant succession overhead, inthe form of acute angles, giving a few trumpet notes now and then, as ifto advertise their passage to the far north to the dwellers in the worldbelow. Bustling teal rose in groups of dozens or half-dozens as the redcanoe broke upon their astonished gaze, and sent them, with whistlingwings, up or down the river. A solitary northern diver put up his longneck here and there to gaze for an instant inquisitively, and then sank,as if for ever, into the calm water, to reappear long after in sometotally new and unexpected quarter. A napping duck or two, beingwellnigh run over by the canoe, took wing with a tremendous splutter anda perfectly idiotical compound of a quack and a roar, while numerousflocks of plover, which had evidently meant to lie still among thesedges and hide while the canoe passed, sprang into the air at theunwonted hullabaloo, and made off, with diverse shriek and whistle, asfast as their wings could carry them. Besides these noisy denizens ofthe wilderness, there were seen, in various places, cranes, and crows,and magpies, and black terns, and turkey-buzzards, all of which weremore or less garrulous in expressing surprise at the unexpectedappearance of the trappers in their wild domain. And, just as the canoedrew near to the place at the foot of the fall where they meant to landand make the portage, a little cabri, or prong-horned antelope, leapedout of the woods, intending, doubtless, to drink, caught sight of theintruders, gave one short glance of unutterable amazement, and thenrebounded into the bush like an electrified indiarubber ball.
"Now, then," said Bounce as he leaped ashore, and held the canoe steadywhile his comrades landed, "jist be cool, an' no hurry; make theportage, launch the canoe atop o' the fall, sot off agin, an' then--hurrah for that there grisly bar!"
The Wild Man of the West: A Tale of the Rocky Mountains Page 3