Frank in the Woods

by Harry Castlemon

  CHAPTER XVI.

  The Lost Wagon-Train.

  Uncle Joe met them at the door, and, while they were relievingthemselves of their overcoats and weapons, asked innumerable questionsabout their sojourn in the woods. Dick took the part of spokesman, anddescribed, in his rude, trapper's style, the scenes through which theyhad passed, dwelling with a good deal of emphasis on the"keerlessness" displayed by the Young Naturalist in attacking themoose, and in starting off alone to fight the panther. The trappertried hard to suppress the feelings of pride which he really felt, andfavored the young hunter with a look that was intended to be severe,but which was, in fact, a mingling of joy and satisfaction.

  Frank bore the scolding which Uncle Joe administered with a very goodgrace, for he knew that he deserved it.

  "I'd like to take the youngster out on the prairy," said Dick, seatinghimself before the fire, and producing his never-failing pipe. "I'llbet that, arter he had follered me and Useless a year or two, hewouldn't be in no great hurry to pitch into every wild varmint he comeacrost."

  Frank made no reply, but taking the cubs from the pockets of hisovercoat, allowed them to run about the cabin--a proceeding which thedogs, especially Brave, regarded with suspicion, and which they couldnot be persuaded to permit, until they had received several heartykicks and cuffs from their masters.

  "You can't blame the critters," said the trapper, puffing away at hispipe. "It's their natur', an' I sometimes think that them dogs have adeal more sense than their human masters, an'"----

  "Supper's ready," interrupted Bob, the cook and man-of-all-work, andthis announcement put an end to all further conversation on thesubject.

  The boys were highly delighted to find themselves seated at awell-filled table once more, and Uncle Joe's good things rapidlydisappeared before their attacks. It made no difference to thetrapper, however. With him a few weeks "roughing it" in the woods was,of course, no novelty. A log for a table, and a piece of clean barkfor a plate, answered his purpose as well as all the improvements ofcivilization, which those who have been brought up in the settlementsregard as necessary to their very existence.

  After supper, they drew their chairs in front of the fire, and UncleJoe and his brother solaced themselves with their pipes, while Bobbusied himself in clearing away the table and washing the dishes.

  "This Bill Lawson," said the trapper, after taking a few puffs at hispipe, to make sure that it was well lighted, "used to take it into hishead onct in awhile to act as guide for fellers as wanted to go toCaliforny. He knowed every inch of the country from St. Joseph to themines, for he had been over the ground more'n you ever traveledthrough these yere woods, an' he was called as good a guide as evertuk charge of a wagon-train. In course, I allers went with him onthese trips, as a sort o' pack-hoss an' hunter, cause ole Billcouldn't think o' goin' anywhere without me; an' I have often thoughtthat the reason why he made them trips as guide, was jest to get agood look at the folks; it reminded him o' the time when he hadparents, an' brothers an' sisters. He never laughed an' joked roundthe camp-fires, as he used to do when me and him war off alone in themountains. He hardly ever said a word to any body besides me, an'allers appeared to be sorrowful. This give him the name of 'MoodyBill,' by which he was knowed all through the country. Every trader onthe prairy war acquainted with him, an' he allers tuk out a big train.I never knowed him to lose but one, an' he lost himself with it. Theway it happened war this:

  "One night, arter we had got about a week's journey west of FortLaramie, we stopped in a little oak opening, where we made our camp.It war right in the heart o' the wust Injun country I ever see, an'near a place where me an' ole Bill had often _cached_ our furs an'other fixins, an' which we used as a kind o' camp when we war in thatpart o' the country trappin' beaver an' fightin' Injuns. It war a cavein the side of a mountain, an' the way we had it fixed nobody besidesourselves couldn't find it. We never went in or come out of it untilarter dark, 'cause the Comanches were a'most allers huntin' 'bout themountains, an' we didn't want em to break up our harborin' place. Wehad made up our minds that, arter we had seed our train safe through,we would come back to our 'bar's hole,' as we called it, an' spend amonth or so in fightin' the Comanches an' skrimmagin' with thegrizzlies in the mountains.

  "Wal, as I war sayin' we made our camp, an' while I war dressin' abuck I had shot, ole Bill, as usual, leaned on his rifle, an' watchedthe emigrants unpack their mules an' wagons, an' make theirpreparations for the night. Arter supper he smoked a pipe, an' thenrolled himself up in his blanket an' said----'Dick, you know thisplace, but you ain't no trapper;' an', without sayin' any more, he laydown and went to sleep, leavin' me to station the guards, an' see thatevery thing went on right durin' the night.

  "I knowed well enough what ole Bill meant when he said, 'Dick, youain't no trapper.' He had seed Injun sign durin' the day, an' warpokin' fun at me, cause I hadn't seed it too. I don't know, to thisday, how it war that I had missed it, for I had kept a good look-out,an' I had allers thought that I war 'bout as good an Injun hunter asany feller in them diggins, (allers exceptin' ole Bill and Bob Kelly;)but the way the ole man spoke tuk me down a peg or two, an' made mefeel wusser nor you youngsters do when you get trounced at school formissin' your lessons.

  "Wal, as soon as it come dark, I put out the guards, an' thenshouldered my rifle, an' started out to see if I could find any signo' them Injuns that ole Bill had diskivered. It war as purty a nightas you ever see. The moon shone out bright an' clear, an', savin' thecry of a whippoorwill, that come from a gully 'bout a quarter of amile from the camp, an' the barkin' o' the prairy wolves, every thingwar as still as death. You youngsters would have laughed at the ideao' goin' out to hunt Injuns on such a night; but I knowed that theremust be somethin' in the wind, for ole Bill never got fooled aboutsich things. Here in the settlements he wouldn't have knowed enough toearn his salt; but out on the prairy he knowed all about things.

  "Wal, I walked all round the camp, an' back to the place where I hadstarted from, an' not a bit of Injun sign did I see. There war a highhill jest on the other side of the gully, an' I knowed that if therewar any Injuns about, an' they should take it into their heads topounce down upon us, they would jest show themselves in thatdirection; so I sot down on the prairy, outside o' the wagons, whichwar drawn up as a sort o' breastwork round the camp, and begun tolisten. I didn't hear nothin', however, until a'most midnight, andthen, jest arter I had changed the guards, an' was goin' back to myplace, I heered somethin' that made me prick up my ears. It war thehootin' of an owl, an' it seemed to come from the hill.

  "Now, you youngsters would'n't have seed any thing strange in that;but a man who has spent his life among wild Injuns and varmints cantell the difference atween a sound when it comes from an owl's throat,and when it comes from a Comanche's; an' I to onct made up my mindthat it war a signal. Presently from the gully come the song of awhippoorwill. It didn't sound exactly like the notes I had heered comefrom that same gully but a few minits afore, an' I knowed that it waranother signal. When the whippoorwill had got through, I heered thebarkin' of a prairy wolf further up the gully to the right o' thecamp; an' all to onct the wolves, which had been barkin' an'quarrelin' round the wagons, set up a howl, an' scampered away out o'sight. This would have been as good a sign as I wanted that there warInjuns about, even if I hadn't knowed it afore; so I sot still on theground to see what would be the next move.

  "In a few minits I heered a rustlin' like in the grass a little to oneside of me. I listened, an' could tell by the sound that there wassomebody in there, crawlin' along on his hands an' knees. Nearer an'nearer it come, an' when it got purty clost to me it stopped, an' Iseed an' Injun's head come up over the top o' the grass, an' I couldsee that the rascal war eyein' me purty sharp. I sot mighty still,noddin' my head a leetle as if I war fallin' asleep, keepin' an' eyeon the ole feller all the time to see that he didn't come none of hisInjun tricks on me, and finally give a leetle snore, which seemed tosatisfy the painted heathen, for I heered his
'ugh!' as he crawledalong by me into camp.

  "What made you do that?" interrupted Archie, excitedly. "Why didn'tyou muzzle him?"

  "That the way you youngsters, what don't know nothin' about fightin'Injuns, would have done," answered the trapper, with a laugh, "an' youwould have had your har raised for your trouble. But, you see, Iknowed that he had friends not a great way off, an' that the fustmotion I made to grab the rascal, I would have an arrer slipped intome as easy as fallin' off a log. But I didn't like to have the varletbehind me; so, as soon as I knowed that he had had time to get intothe camp, I commenced noddin' agin, an' finally fell back on theground, ker-chunk.

  "I guess them Injuns that were layin' round in the grass laughed_some_ when they see how quick I picked up my pins. I got up as thoughI expected to see a hull tribe of Comanches clost on to me, looked allround, an', arter stretchin' my arms as though I had enjoyed a goodsleep, I started along toward the place where one o' the guards warstandin'. I walked up clost to him, an' whispered:

  "'Don't act as though you thought that any thing was wrong, but keepyour eyes on the grass. There's Injuns about.'

  "The chap turned a leetle pale when he heered this; but although hewas as green as a punkin, as far as Injun fightin' war consarned, heseemed to have the real grit in him, for he nodded in a way thatshowed that he understood what I meant. I then dropped down onall-fours, an' commenced crawlin' into the camp to find the Injun. Thefires had burned low, an' the moon had gone down, but still there warlight enough for me to see the rascal crawlin' along on the ground,an' making toward one of the wagons. When he reached it, he raised tohis feet, an', arter casting his eyes about the camp, to make surethat no one seed him, he lifted up the canvas an' looked in. Now warmy time. Droppin' my rifle, I sprung to my feet, an' started for thevarlet; but jest as I war goin' to grab him, one o' the women in thewagon, who happened to be awake, set up a screechin'. The Injundropped like a flash o' lightnin', an', dodgin' the grab I made athim, started for the other side o' the camp, jumpin' over the fellersthat were layin' round as easy as if he had wings. I war clost arterhim, but the cuss run like a streak; an finding that I war not likelyto ketch him afore he got out into the prairy, I jumped back for myrifle an' tuk a flyin' shot at him, jest as he war divin' under awagon. I don't very often throw away a chunk o' lead, an', judgin' bythe way he yelled, I didn't waste one that time. He dropped like alog, but war on his feet agin in a minit, an', without waitin' to axno questions, set up the war-whoop. I tell you, youngsters, the soundo' that same war-whoop war no new thing to me. I've heered itoften--sometimes in the dead o' night, when I didn't know that therewar any danger about, an' it has rung in my ears when I've beenrunnin' for my life, with a dozen o' the yellin' varlets clost to myheels; but I never before, nor since, felt my courage give way as itdid on that night. Scarcely a man in the hull wagon-train, exceptin'me an ole Bill, had ever drawed a bead on an Injun, an' I war a'mostsartin that I should have a runnin' fight with the rascals aforemornin'.

  "The whoop war answered from all round the camp, an' the way thebullets an' arrers come into them ar wagons warn't a funny thing tolook at. My shot had 'wakened a'most every one in the camp, but therewarn't much sleepin' done arter the Injuns give that yell. Men, women,an' children poured out o' the wagons, an' run about, gettin' ineverybody's way; an' sich a muss as war kicked up in that ar camp Inever heered afore. There war about seventy men in the train, an' theywar all good marksmen, but there war scarcely a dozen that thought o'their rifles. They kept callin' on me an' ole Bill to save 'em, an'never onct thought o' pickin' up their we'pons an' fightin' to savethemselves; an', in spite of all we could do, them ar cowardly sneakswould get behind the women an' children for protection. It war enoughto frighten any one; an' although that ar warn't the fust muss o' thekind I had been in, I felt my ole 'coon-skin cap raise on my head whenI thought what a slaughter there would be when them Comanches onct gotinside o' the camp. There war only a few of us to fight 'em, an' wedid the best we could, sendin' back their yells, an' bringin' thedeath-screech from some unlucky rascal at every shot. But the Injunswarn't long in findin' out how the land lay, an', risin' round us likea cloud, they come pourin' into camp."