CHAPTER IV.
The Best Trapper on the Prairie.
That night the train encamped a short distance from one of thestations of the Overland Stage Company. The trapper, as usual, aftertaking care of his mules, superintended the preparations for supper,while the boys, wearied with their day's ride, threw themselves on thegrass near the wagon, and watched his movements with a hungry eye.Uncle James, as he had done almost every night since leaving St.Joseph, walked about the camp playing with the children, who began toregard him as an old acquaintance. Presently the attention of the boyswas attracted by the approach of a stranger, whose long beard and thinhair--both as white as snow--bore evidence to the fact that he carriedthe burden of many years on his shoulders.
He was dressed in a complete suit of buckskin, which, although wellworn, was nevertheless very neat, and, in spite of his years, his stepwas firm, and he walked as erect as an Indian. He carried a long heavyrifle on his shoulder, and from his belt peeped the head of a smallhatchet of peculiar shape, and the buck-horn handle of ahunting-knife. He walked slowly through the camp, and when he cameopposite the boys, Dick suddenly sprang from the ground where he hadbeen seated, watching some steaks that were broiling on the coals,and, striding up to the stranger, laid his hand on his shoulder. Thelatter turned, and, after regarding him sharply for a moment, thrustout his hand, which the trapper seized and wrung in silence. For aninstant they stood looking at each other without speaking, and thenDick took the old man by the arm and led him up to the fire,exclaiming:
"Bob Kelly, the oldest an' best trapper on the prairy!"
The boys arose as he approached, and regarded him with curiosity. Theyhad heard their guide speak in the highest terms of "ole BobKelly," and had often wished to see the trapper whom Dick waswilling to acknowledge as his superior. There he was--a mild,good-natured-looking old man, the exact opposite of what they hadimagined him to be.
"Them are city chaps, Bob"--continued the trapper, as the old man,after gazing at the boys for a moment, seated himself on the groundbeside the fire--"an' I'm takin' 'em out to Californy. In course theyare green consarnin' prairy life, but they are made of good stuff, an'are 'bout the keerlessest youngsters you ever see. What a doin' here,Bob?"
"Jest lookin' round," was the answer. "I'm mighty glad to meet youag'in, 'cause it looks nat'ral to see you 'bout. Things aint as theyused to be. Me an' you are 'bout the oldest trappers agoin' now. Theboys have gone one arter the other, an' thar's only me an' you leftthat I knows on."
"What's come on Jack Thomas?" asked Dick.
"We're both without our chums now," answered the old man, sorrowfully."Jack an' ole Bill Lawson are both gone, an' their scalps are in aComanche wigwam."
The trapper made no reply, but went on with his preparations forsupper in silence, and the boys could see that he was considerablyaffected by the news he had just heard. His every movement was closelywatched by his companion, who seemed delighted to meet his oldacquaintance once more, and acted as though he did not wish to allowhim out of his sight. There was evidently a good deal of honestaffection between these two men. It did not take the form of words,but would have showed itself had one or the other of them been indanger. They did not speak again until Mr. Winters came up, when Dickagain introduced his friend as the "oldest an' best trapper agoin'."Uncle James, who understood the customs of the trappers, simplybowed--a greeting which the old man returned with one short, searchingglance, as if he meant to read his very thoughts.
"Now, then!" exclaimed Dick, "Grub's ready. Pitch in, Bob."
The old trapper was not in the habit of standing upon ceremony, and,drawing his huge knife from his belt, he helped himself to a generouspiece of the meat, and, declining the corn-bread and the cup of coffeewhich the boys passed over to him, made his meal entirely of venison.After supper--there were but few dishes to wash now, for the boys hadlearned to go on the principle that "fingers were made beforeforks"--the trapper hung what remained of the venison in the wagon,lighted his pipe, and stretched himself on the ground beside hiscompanion.
The boys, knowing that the trappers would be certain to talk over theevents that had transpired since their last meeting, spread theirblankets where they could hear all that passed, and waited impatientlyfor them to begin; while Mr. Winters, who had by this time becomeacquainted with every man, woman, and child, in the train, started topay a visit to the occupants of a neighboring wagon.
For some moments the two men smoked in silence, old Bob evidentlyoccupied with his own thoughts, and Dick patiently waiting for him tospeak. At length the old man asked:
"Goin' to Californy, Dick?"
The trapper replied in the affirmative.
"What a goin' to do arterward?"
"I'm a goin' to take to the mountains, an' stay thar," replied Dick."I've seed the inside of a city, Bob; have rid on steam railroads an'boats as big as one of the Black Hills; an' now I'm satisfied to stayhere. I'd a heap sooner face a grizzly or a Injun than go back tharag'in, 'cause I didn't feel to hum."
"Wal, I'm all alone now, Dick," said the old man, "an' so are you. Ourchums are gone, an' we both want to settle with them Comanchevarmints; so, let's stick together."
Dick seemed delighted with this proposition, for he quickly arose fromhis blanket and extended his hand to his companion, who shook itheartily; and the boys read in their faces a determination to stand byeach other to the last.
"I've got a chum now, youngsters," said Dick, turning to the boys;"an' one that I aint afraid to trust anywhar. Thar's nothin' likehavin' a friend, even on the prairy. I come with the boys," he added,addressing his companion, who, seeing the interest Dick took in his"youngsters," slowly surveyed them from head to foot--"I come with 'emjest to show 'em how we do things on the prairy. They can shootconsid'ble sharp, an' aint afraid. All it wants is the hardknocks--fightin' Injuns an' grizzlies, an' starvin' on the prairy, an'freezin' in the mountains, to make trappers of 'em." And here Dicksettled back on his elbow, and proceeded to give the old man a shortaccount of what had transpired at Uncle Joe's cabin; describedFrank's fight with the moose and panther in glowing language; told howthe capture of the cubs had been effected, until old Bob began to beinterested; and when Dick finished his story, he said:
"The youngsters would make good trappers."
This, as the trapper afterward told the boys, was a compliment old Bobseldom paid to any one, "for," said he, "I've knowed him a long time,an' have been in many a fight with him, an' he never told me I wasgood or bad."
"Wal," said Dick, again turning to his companion, "You said as howJack Thomas was rubbed out. How did it happen?"
Old Bob refilled his pipe, smoked a few moments as if to bring thestory fresh to his memory, and then answered:
"When I heered that Bill Lawson war gone, an' that you war left alone,I done my best to find you, an' get you to jine a small party we warmakin' up to visit our ole huntin' grounds on the Saskatchewan; butyou had tuk to the mountains, and nobody didn't know whar to go tofind you. Thar war eight of us in the party, an' here, you see, areall that are left. As nigh as I can 'member, it war 'bout four yearago come spring that we sot out from the fort, whar we had sold ourfurs. We had three pack mules, plenty of powder, ball, an' sich like,an' we started in high sperits, tellin' the trader that bought ourspelter that we'd have a fine lot fur him ag'in next meetin' time. Weknowed thar war plenty of Injuns an' sich varmints to be fit an'killed afore we come back, but that didn't trouble us none, 'cause weall knowed our own bisness, and didn't think but that we would comethrough all right, jest as we had done a hundred times afore. Wedidn't intend to stop afore we got to the Saskatchewan; so we traveledpurty fast, an' in 'bout three weeks found ourselves in the Blackfootcountry, nigh the Missouri River. One night we camped on a leetlestream at the foot of the mountains, an' the next mornin', jest as wewar gettin' ready to start out ag'in, Jack Thomas--who, like ayoungster turned loose from school, war allers runnin' round, pokin'his nose into whatever war goin' on--came gallopin' into
camp,shouting:
"'Buffaler! buffaler!'
"In course, we all knowed what that meant, an' as we hadn't tastedbuffaler hump since leavin' the fort, we saddled up in a hurry an'put arter the game. We went along kinder easy-like--Jack leadin' theway--until we come to the top of a swell, an' thar they war--nothin'but buffaler as fur as a feller could see. It war a purty sight, an'more'n one of us made up our minds that we would have a good supperthat night. We couldn't get no nigher to 'em without bein' diskivered,so we scattered and galloped arter 'em. In course, the minit we showedourselves they put off like the wind; but we war in easy shootin'distance, an' afore we got through with 'em, I had knocked over fourbig fellers an' wounded another. He war hurt so bad he couldn't run;but I didn't like to go up too clost to him, so I rid off a leetleway, an' war loadin' up my rifle to give him a settler, when I heereda noise that made me prick up my ears an' look sharp. I heered atrampin, an' I knowed it war made by something 'sides a buffaler. Now,youngsters, a greenhorn wouldn't a seed any thing strange in that; butwhen I heered it, I didn't stop to kill the wounded buffaler, butturned my hoss an' made tracks. I hadn't gone more'n twenty rod aforeI seed four Blackfoot Injuns comin' over a swell 'bout half a mileback. I had kept my eyes open--as I allers do--but I hadn't seen abit of Injun sign on the prairy, an' I made up my mind to onct thatthem Blackfoot varmints had been shyin' round arter the same buffalerwe had jest been chasin', an' that they didn't know we war 'bout tillthey heered us shoot. Then, in course, they put arter us, 'cause theythink a heap more of scalps than they do of buffaler meat.
"Wal, as I war sayin', I made tracks sudden; but they warn't long indiskiverin' me, an' they sot up a yell. I've heered that same yelloften, an' I have kinder got used to it; but I would have give myhoss, an' this rifle, too, that I have carried for goin' nigh ontotwenty year, if I had been safe in Fort Laramie, 'cause I didn't thinkthem four Injuns war alone. I war sartin they had friends not a greatway off, an' somehow I a'most knowed how the hul thing was comin' out.I didn't hardly know which way to go to find our fellers, 'cause whilewe were arter the buffaler we had got scattered a good deal; but jestas I come to the top of a swell I seed 'em a comin'. Jack Thomas warahead, an' he war swingin' his rifle an yellin' wusser nor any Injun.I'll allow, Dick, that it made me feel a heap easier when I seed themtrappers. Jack, who allers knowed what war goin' on in the countryfur five miles round, had first diskivered the Injuns, an' had got allthe party together 'cept me, an' in course they couldn't think ofsavin' their own venison by runnin' off and leavin' me.
"Wal, jest as soon as we got together we sot up a yell and faced'bout. The Injuns, up to this time, had rid clost together; but whenthey seed that we warn't goin' to run no further jest then, theyscattered as if they war goin' to surround us; an' then we all knowedthat them four Injuns warn't alone. So, without stoppin' to fight 'em,we turned an' run ag'in, makin' tracks for the woods at the foot ofthe mountains. An' we warn't a minit too soon, fur all of a sudden weheered a yell, an' lookin' back we seed 'bout fifty more red-skinscomin' arter us like mad. They had a'most got us surrounded; but theway to the mountains war open, an' we run fur our lives. The varletsthat had followed me war in good pluggin' distance, an' when we turnedin our saddles an' drawed a bead on 'em, we had four less to dealwith. It warn't more 'n ten mile to the foot of them mountains, but itseemed a hundred to us, an' we all drawed a long breath when we foundourselves under kiver of the woods. The minit we reached the timberwe jumped off our hosses, hitched them to the trees, an' made up ourminds to fight it out thar an' then. We knowed, as well as we wantedto know, what the Injuns would do next--they would leave a party onthe prairy to watch us, an' the rest would go sneakin' round throughthe woods an' pick us off one at a time. The only thing we coulddo--leastwise till it come dark--war to watch the varlets, an' dropevery one of 'em that showed his painted face in pluggin' distance. Wewar in a tight place. Our pack mules, an' a'most all our kit, had beenleft in the camp, an' we knowed it wouldn't be long afore the Injunswould have 'em, an' even if we got off with our bar, we wouldn't bemuch better off--no traps, no grub, an' skeercely half a dozen bulletsin our pouches.
"Wal, the Injuns, when they seed that we had tuk to the timber,stopped, takin' mighty good keer, as they thought, to keep out ofrange of our rifles, an' began to hold a palaver, now an' then lookin't'wards us an' settin' up a yell, which told us plain enough that theythought they had us ketched. But we, knowin' to an inch how fur ourshootin' irons would carry, drawed up an' blazed away; an' we knowed,by the way them red-skins got back over that swell, that we hadn'tthrowed our lead away. They left one feller thar to watch us,howsomever, but he tuk mighty good keer to keep purty well out ofsight, showin' only 'bout two inches of his head 'bove the top of thehill. While the Injuns war holdin' their council, we had a talk 'boutwhat we had better do. The truth war, thar war only one thing we coulddo, an' that war to stay thar until dark an' then take our chances. Wehad all fit savage Injuns enough to know that they wouldn't bother usmuch so long as daylight lasted; but arter that, if we didn't get awayfrom thar, our lives war not worth a charge of powder. We soon made upour minds what we would do. We divided ourselves into twoparties--four of us watchin' the prairy, an' the others keepin' an eyeon the woods, to see that the varlets didn't slip up behind us.
"Wal, we didn't see nothin' out of the way all that day. Thar war thatfeller peepin' over the hill, an' that war the only thing in the shapeof a red-skin we could see; an' we didn't hear nothin' neither, furwhatever they done, they didn't make noise enough to skeer a painter.At last it come night, an' it war 'bout the darkest night I eversee--no moon, no stars--an' then we began to prick up our ears. We allknowed that the time had come. You can easy tell what we war passin'through our minds. Thar warn't no sich thing as a coward among useight fellers, but men in sich a scrape as that can't help thinkin',an' I knowed that every one thar drawed a long breath when he thoughtof what he had got to do. I tell you, Dick, it war something none ofus liked to do--leave one another in that way--men that you havehunted, an' trapped, an' fought Injuns with, an' mebbe slept under thesame blanket with, an' who have stuck to you through thick an'thin--sich fellers, I say, you don't like to desart when they're indanger. But what else could we do? We war a'most out of powder an'lead, an' the Injuns war more'n six to our one. You have been in sichscrapes, an' in course know that thar warn't but one way open to us.
"Wal, as I was sayin', as soon as it come fairly dark, the boysgathered 'round me, an' waited to hear what I war goin' to do. Incourse, I couldn't advise 'em, 'cause it war every feller look out furhimself, an' the best men war them as was lucky enough to get away. SoI said:
"'I'm goin' to start now, boys. It's high time we war movin', cause ifwe stay here half an hour longer, we'll have them red-skins down on usin a lump. Thar's somethin' goin' on, sartin. They don't keep so stillfur nothin'.'
"Wal, we whispered the matter over, an' finally settled it. The oldestman war to go fust; the next oldest, second; an' so on; an' that themas got away should draw a bee-line fur Fort Laramie, an' get thar toonct, so that we might know who got off an' who didn't. We didn'tthink we should all get away. Some war sartin to go under; an', Dick,we didn't forget to promise each other that those of us that livedwould never let a red Injun cross our trail. When every thing wassettled, I, bein' the oldest man in the comp'ny, began to get readyfur the start. I put fresh primin' in my rifle; seed that my knife andtomahawk war all right; then, arter shakin' hands with all the boys,an' wishin' 'em good luck, I crawled away on my hands an' knees. Ididn't go back into the woods, but tuk to the edge of the prairy, an'found the way cl'ar. Not an Injun did I hear. As fur seein', youcouldn't a told your mother, if she warn't two foot from you; an' in'bout half an hour I found myself on the banks of a leetle creek. Howlong I lay thar, an' how much of that water I drunk, I don't know; butI thought water never tasted so good afore. Then I walked into thecreek, an' had waded in it fur 'bout half a mile, when all to onct Iheered a yellin' an' whoopin', followed by the cra
ck of rifles, an'then I knowed that I hadn't been fooled consarnin' what the red-skinsmeant to do. They had got what war left of our fellers surrounded, an'made the rush. Fur a minit I stood thar in the water an' listened. Iheered a few shots made by our poor fellers, 'cause I can tell thecrack of a Missouri rifle as fur as I can hear it; an' then one long,loud yell, told me that it war all over.
"Wal, I laid round in them mountains fur more'n six weeks, starvin'fur grub an' water, an' listenin' to the yellin' varlets that warhuntin arter me; but I got back safe at last, arter walkin' all theway from the Rocky Mountains to the fort, an' thar I found JackThomas. Me an' him war the only ones that got out. When the Injuns gotthem six fellers, they rubbed out nearly the last one of our comp'ny.Me an' Jack war mighty down-hearted 'bout it, an' it war a long timeafore we could b'lieve that we war left alone. We didn't feel thenlike ever goin' back to the mountains ag'in, 'cause we knowed it wouldbe lonesome thar. In course, we could easy have made up anotherexpedition, fur thar war plenty of hunters an' trappers--good ones,too--hangin' round the fort; but somehow we didn't feel like goin' offwith any one outside of our own comp'ny.
"Wal, me an' Jack laid round as long as we could stand it, an' then wegot a couple of hosses, another new kit, an' sot off ag'in. We didn'tthink it safe fur only two of us to try the Blackfoot country ag'in,so we struck for the huntin' grounds on the Colorado. At that timethar war plenty of beaver in that river; so it didn't take us long tofind a place that suited us; an' we settled down, comfortable-like, tospend the winter. Fur three months we had plenty of sport, an' thesight of our pile of furs, growin' bigger an' bigger every day, madeus happy an' contented. One mornin' we sot out bright an' 'arly, asusual, to 'tend to our bisness, takin' different directions--fur mytraps war sot on the side of the mountain, an' Jack had sot his'ne onthe banks of the creek that run through the valley. I had been gonefrum him but a short time, when I heered the crack of his rifle.Somehow, I knowed it war somethin' 'sides a varmint he had shot at;an' I warn't fooled neither, for a minit arterward I heered anothergun, an' then afore I could think twice a Comanche yell come echoin'from the valley, tellin' me plainer nor words that my chum war gone.An Injun had watched one of his traps, an' shot him as he come to it.I knowed it as sartin as if I had seed the hul thing done.
"Wal, I warn't in a fix kalkerlated to make a feller feel verypleasant. I war three hundred miles from the nighest fort, in the veryheart of the Comanche country, an' in the dead of winter, with thesnow two foot deep on a level. But I didn't stop to think of themthings then. My bisness war to get away from thar to onct. In course,I couldn't go back arter my hoss or spelter, fur I didn't know howmany Injuns thar war in the valley, nor whar they had hid themselves;so I shouldered my rifle an' sot off on foot t'wards the prairy. Astorm that come up that night--an' it snowed an' blowed in a way thatwarn't a funny thing to look at--kivered up my trail; an' if I warever follered, I don't know it.
"I finally reached the fort, an' I've been thar ever since. I'm anole chap now, Dick; but when I hunted an' trapped with your ole man,when me an' him warn't bigger nor them two youngsters, an' hadn'thardly strength enough to shoulder a rifle, I never thought that Ishould live to be the last of our comp'ny. In them days the prairy wardifferent from what it is now. It war afore the hoss-thieves an'rascals began to come in here to get away from the laws of the States;an' them that called themselves trappers then war honest men, thatnever did harm to a lone person on the prairy. But they've gone, onearter the other, an' only me an' you are left."
As the old trapper ceased speaking, he arose suddenly to his feet anddisappeared in the darkness, leaving Dick gazing thoughtfully into thefire. It was an hour before he returned, mounted on his horse, whichhe picketed with the others. He then silently rolled himself up in hisblanket and went to sleep.
Frank on the Prairie Page 4