CHAPTER I
THE LURE OF THE SETTING SUN
"IT strikes me, Dick, the rapids are noisier to-day than ever before."
"We have time enough yet, Roger, to paddle ashore, and give up our planof running them."
"But that would be too much like showing the white feather, Cousin; andyou must know that we Armstrongs never like to do that."
"Then we are to try our luck in the midst of the snarling, white-cappedwater-wolves, are we, Roger?"
"I say, 'yes.' We started to make the run, and a little extra noiseisn't going to frighten us off. Besides, we may not have another chanceto try it."
"You're right there, Roger, for I heard Captain Lewis say we'd have tostart up the river again in a few days, heading into the great West,the Land of the Setting Sun."
"I am ready, Dick. My paddle can be depended on to see us through.We'll soon be at the head of the rapids, too."
"Already the canoe feels the pull, and races to meet it. Steady now,Roger, and let us remember what the Indians told us about the only safepassage through the Big Trouble Water, as they call it. A little moreto the left--now straight ahead, and both together!"
The two sturdy, well-grown lads who crouched in the frail Indian craft,made of tanned buffalo skins, need no introduction to those who haveread any of the preceding volumes of this series.
There may be those, however, who, in these pages, are making theacquaintance of Dick and Roger, the young pioneers, for the first time;and for their benefit a little explanation may be necessary.
While the pair are shooting downward, on the rapidly increasing currentof the Yellowstone River, toward the roaring rapids, on this spring dayin the year 1805, let us take a brief look backward. Who were thesedaring lads of the old frontier days, and how came they so far fromthe westernmost settlements of the English-speaking race along theMississippi, and about the mouth of the Missouri?
Dick Armstrong and his cousin, Roger, were the sons of two brotherswhose adventures along the Ohio in the days of Daniel Boone occupiedour attention in the earlier stories of border life. They were worthyof their fathers, for Dick had inherited the thoughtful character ofBob Armstrong, while Roger at times displayed the same bold dispositionthat had always marked Sandy, his parent, in the perilous days whenthey founded their homes in the then untrodden wilderness.
The families were now located at that spot which had first been takenup by the French, and called St. Louis in honor of the King of France.Their grandfather, David Armstrong, still lived, as did also his wife,hale and hearty, enjoying the increasing households of their children.
Bob and Sandy had both married, and besides Dick there was a smallerson, named Sam in the cabin of the former. Roger had a little sister,called Mary, in honor of her grandmother.
The two cousins had grown up, as did most lads of those early days,accustomed to think for themselves, and to meet danger bravely. Bothof them were accomplished in all the arts known to successful woodsmen.They learned from experience, as well as from the lips of old bordererswho visited in their homes, and were able to hold their own with anyboys of their age in the community.
A sudden calamity threatened to disturb the peace of the Armstrongcircle, when it was learned that there was a flaw in the deed by whichtheir property was held. An important signature was required in orderto perfect this title, and, unless this could be obtained, and shown bythe succeeding spring, everything would pass into the possession of arich and unscrupulous French Indian trader, Francois Lascelles by name.
Inquiry developed the fact that Jasper Williams, the man whosesignature was so important to the happiness of all the Armstrongs, hadgone with the expedition undertaken by Captain Lewis and Captain Clark,which was headed into the unknown country of the Setting Sun, with thehope of finding a way to the far distant Pacific Ocean.
No white man had as yet crossed the vast stretches of country that laywest of the rolling Mississippi, and it was the boldest undertakingever known when President Jefferson influenced Congress to stand backof his proposition to learn the extent of the possessions that hadrecently come to the United States. (Note 1.)[1]
The President's private secretary, Captain Lewis, headed the smallparty of adventurous spirits, assisted by an army officer, CaptainClark. They left St. Louis in the spring of 1804, and had been long onthe way when the Armstrongs discovered that the one man whom they coulddepend on to save their homes was with the expedition.
Ordinarily Bob and Sandy Armstrong would have been quick to take uponthemselves the duty of overtaking the expedition, and securing thenecessary signature; but a recent injury prevented one of the brothersfrom going.
In the end the proposition of Dick and Roger to undertake thestupendous task was agreed to, and the boys started, mounted on twohorses and equipped as well as the times permitted. The adventures theymet with were thrilling in the extreme, and have been described atlength in earlier volumes.[2]
The youths overtook the expedition after it had gone far up the "GreatMuddy," as the Missouri had already become known, and the covetedsignature was obtained. Then the lads were tempted to continue with theparty, since Captain Lewis was sending back one of his most trustedscouts with an account of what had already happened to the expedition,for the perusal of President Jefferson; and he could be trusted to seethat the precious document reached the Armstrongs.
During the winter just passed the two boys were kept busy in the roleof scouts and providers of fresh meat for the camp, a duty which theirearly training made them peculiarly fitted to assume.
The expedition had laid out a comfortable camp near the Indian villageof the Mandan tribe, with whom peaceful relations had been establishedat the time of their first arrival in the neighborhood.
Some of the bolder spirits had ventured into the realm of naturalwonders now known as Yellowstone Park, and had viewed with amazementand awe the strange geysers that spouted hot water hundreds of feet inthe air at stated periods, as well as many other singular mysteries.
Dick and Roger had been among the fortunate few to view these marvels;but, as a rule, the soldiers and bordermen associated with the twocaptains were almost as superstitious as the ignorant red men, andactually feared to set eyes on these strange freaks of Nature whichthey could not understand. The Indians called the place the Bad Lands,and believed an evil Manitou dwelt there, who was ever ready toseize upon and enchain those reckless warriors who should invade histerritory.
Slowly the long winter had passed away, and all seemed to be goingwell. There had been occasional signs of trouble, when hostile huntingparties of Indians were encountered; but, thus far, none of theexpedition had been more than wounded in these frays.
Spring was at last at hand, and every one in the party looked forwardwith eagerness to the fresh start that was soon to be made. They hadgathered much information concerning the vast stretch of plains andmountains that still lay between them and their goal; but, sinceonly Indians had ever penetrated that wilderness, these stories wereinvariably untrustworthy, for the mind of the red man was very muchlike that of a child, and could see things only from an imaginativestandpoint.
About all that the adventurers really knew was that there was atremendous barrier of mountains which they must climb before they couldhope to attain their ambitious aim and gaze upon the Pacific Ocean,seen at that time only by those, following Balboa, who had crossed thenarrow isthmus where the Panama Canal now joins the rival oceans.
Every evening, when the sun was setting in a maze of glowing colors,Dick and Roger were accustomed to stand and watch until the last fieryfinger had finally faded from the skies. To them that mysterious Westheld out beckoning arms. They never tired of talking about the freshwonders they might gaze upon once they started into the tracklesswilds; and their young souls were aflame with eagerness as the dayscrept along, each one bringing them closer to the hour of departure.
For some time they had intended to take a canoe through the big rapidsof the river, which they had passed
in ascending the stream, beforemaking the winter camp. From the Indians they had secured all possibleinformation, and finally, knowing that their time here was now short,they had set forth with the canoe that had been their property formonths, bent upon undertaking the rather risky voyage.
If the daring canoe-man knows his course, the passing through a rapid,amidst all the foam and rush of hungry waters, is not the perilousthing it seems. Besides a knowledge of the way, all that is required isa bold heart, a quick eye, a stout paddle, and muscular arms to wieldit.
The two lads soon entered the upper stretches of the white-cappedwater. They quickly picked out their course, and found themselvesshooting downward with almost incredible speed. Around them on everyhand was boiling, tumultuous water, curling and rushing and leaping asthough eager to seize upon its prey.
Dick and his cousin were not at all dismayed. They had rubbed upagainst perils so often in their young lives that they could keep coolin the face of almost any danger. Roger crouched in the bow and fendedoff from the rocks, so that the glancing blows the boat received wouldnot damage the tough skins of which the craft was made.
Dick occupied the stern, and his was the crafty hand that really guidedthe canoe, for Roger always acknowledged that his cousin could handlea paddle better than he could.
They had passed more than two-thirds of the way down the rapids, andthe worst seemed to be behind them, when something strange happened.
The canoe struck a partly submerged, but perfectly smooth, rock. It wasonly a slight blow, and glancing at that, but nevertheless the resultswere startling. No sooner had the accident occurred than the bottom ofthe boat gaped open and the water rushed in with terrible speed. Onelook convinced Dick that it was quite hopeless to try to keep the craftafloat with their weight to force this flood through the hole.
"Quick! snatch up your gun, and jump overboard, Roger!" he shouted."And hold on to the boat, remember, like grim death!"
Roger was nothing if not catlike in his actions when an emergencyarose; and the two lads leaped over into the swirling water asone, ready to battle for their lives with the rapids, where thesuperstitious red men said the evil spirits dwelt amidst continualstrife and warring.
FOOTNOTES:
[1] The notes will be found at the end of the book.
[2] "The Pioneer Boys of the Missouri" and "The Pioneer Boys of theYellowstone."
The Pioneer Boys of the Columbia; or, In the Wilderness of the Great Northwest Page 4