The Edward S. Ellis Megapack

by Edward S. Ellis

  “He must have wounded one terribly to make him bleed like this.”

  “And if he had been a flesh and blood Injin he would have never tramped in that manner. I tell you, William Relmond, there is something more more than human about us. I can feel it in my bones, and I’m of Biddon’s opinion that the sooner we get away from here the better.”

  “Fudge! I see you are beginning to get alarmed.”

  “Oh no; you are mistaken. I am not frightened at all. For Biddon’s sake, but more especially for yours, I am anxious. If you are desirous of remaining hereabouts, and will take all the consequences, I will make no objections.”

  “Of course, if I run into danger of my own accord, I expect that I alone will suffer the penalty.”

  “Then we needn’t say anything more about it; you know we pledged ourselves to remain true to each other, and I won’t desert you.”

  “That’s well spoken, Nat. The minute I am satisfied that our lives are imperiled, I shall not be the means of prolonging that peril a moment. It is only this great desire to solve and understand the singular occurrences that are transpiring around us, that leads me to still remain. I have determined that today we shall all be satisfied.”

  “My curiosity is extraordinarily high; but I guess that gal has as much to do with it as anything else. I’m determined to get a glimpse of her face, and, if possible, whisper in her ear that Nat Todd, from Maine, is about. I flatter myself that the minute she knows that, she will jump overboard and make for shore without saying a word to the chaps with her.”

  “The greatest difficulty, I fear, will be to convey your words to the captive, without conveying it also to her captors.”

  “I swow, it would be harder than I thought at first.”

  During this conversation, which was carried on in a half-whisper, Nat was constantly parting the bushes and peering through them, while now and then I glanced expectantly up the stream; but nothing as yet had rewarded our watchfulness. Suddenly I reflected that as I had been twice defeated in observing the disappearance of the canoe, from the exact spot upon which we were now seated, that we might make a better arrangement of ourselves, so as to insure this coveted knowledge to one of us at least.

  I mentioned this to Nat.

  “If one of us was on t’other side, the thing would be certain, but that can’t be done very conveniently, and we shall have to try something else.”

  “Suppose you go down stream about a hundred yards near the bend yonder,” I proposed to Nat.

  “Guess I will!” he exclaimed, as he rose to go.

  “Wait a moment,” said I, detaining him. “Let me admonish you to exercise no ordinary caution, Nat, for you have seen enough to convince you that your own safety depends upon it. Remember that a word or false movement, however slight, may defeat our plans. Look out for danger to yourself, and not let your curiosity be the means of your destruction. Be very careful.”

  I know not what led me to thus warn him; but at the moment he arose to go, an unaccountable sense of impending danger came over me. It was not so much for me as for him I spoke thus. He promised to heed my words and departed.

  As soon as he had disappeared, I cast another look up stream, but still there were no signs of the expected canoe, and a sudden apprehension that I should not see it again came over me. There was, in fact; as much reason not to expect it as to anticipate its coming, and as I looked up at the sun and saw that it was already beyond the hour, I was half-tempted to turn back. While I was debating, I naturally looked up the river, and there, just rounding the bend where the canoe had first come into view before,—and there it was coming! Quivering with agitation, I sank upon the ground, and gave a low whistle as a signal to Nat. He returned it, as an evidence of his watchfulness.

  I saw from that point where I was seated, the view would be most obstructed when the canoe was nearest. Accordingly, I crept cautiously and quickly nearer the water’s edge. This time, however, I slightly varied my course, and concealed myself behind the trunk of a fallen tree. This was within a yard of the water, and afforded complete concealment. I noticed the log was rotten and apparently hollow.

  Here I lay, and intently listened and watched. A few moments and an almost inaudible ripple was heard, and the canoe was opposite. I exercised the most extreme caution, and was fortunate enough to obtain a perfect view of each of the occupants. They were the same—the dark, malignant faces of the savages, and the fair features of the captive. She sat in the stern, her hand resting gently upon a guiding oar, and her gaze fixed upon the stream in front. The canoe floated with the current, and not a paddle was stirred, nor the least motion made by the beings before me. The headdress of the captive was, as mentioned before, eagle feathers and porcupine quills, while the dark, waving masses of hair hung low upon the shoulders, contrasting with the whiteness of the face. A heavy crimson shawl enveloped the form, as when first seen. The features were regular, and, perhaps, in my state of feeling, their beauty was considerably enhanced; but the thought came upon me that if there were anything supernatural in my experience, it was in seeing such wonderful beauty as was now before me.

  Unconsciously I forgot myself as the canoe was gliding past, and before I was aware, it was hid from view by intervening obstacles. I withdrew hastily, intending to hurry farther down, where the view would be more complete. I had taken but a step or two when Nat’s rifle was discharged, and I heard distinctly a muffled sound of his voice. Wild with agitation, I dashed to the spot where I supposed him to be. The view of the river at this point was clear, and I turned to look at the canoe. It had vanished!

  I looked around for Nat, but he too, was gone. I called him, and once thought I heard a faint answer. But it was not repeated, and I could not tell its direction. I reached the ground, and beheld the tracks of others beside his own. I awaited until near night, but Nathan Todd was never to return.

  CHAPTER VII

  Alone in the Wilderness

  “Where’s your friend?”

  There was apprehension in the question of the trapper, or he would not have called Nat, as he had never called him before. The question was asked, too, the instant I appeared.

  “I cannot tell,” I answered, seating myself gloomily.

  “Whar’d you leave him?”

  “I cannot answer that either. He went with me to watch the river, as you remember. Espying that canoe which you saw yesterday, he concealed himself a few yards distant, in order to obtain a better view of it. Since then I have seen nothing of him.”

  “Was it he who shot?”

  “It sounded like his gun, although I am not positive that it really was.”

  “I heerd it, an’ took it for him; and, shoot me, if I didn’t know he’d get into some scrape.”

  “I fear he has, and the last one, too.”

  “My thoughts ’zactly. Luckily you did not, too.”

  “I came nearer than I wish to again, Biddon. I can tell you, that I am willing to leave this place as soon as you wish; I’ve seen enough to satisfy me.”

  “Shouldn’t wonder; I did long ago.”

  “Let us leave tomorrow. Are you willing?”

  “I’ll go tonight if you want to.”

  “No; there is no need of that. It will be best to wait until daylight.”

  “I don’t know; that’s the only time we’ve been interfered with.”

  “Besides,” I added. “I have faint hopes that Nat may return.”

  “Waugh! you’ll never see him again, and ef we’re ’bout yer another day, we’ll never see each other again. No use lookin’ fur him, shoot me ef thar is.”

  “I do not think he has been slain, only captured by some lurking enemy, from whom he may escape.”

  “No, sir; I tell you he’s gone, and I reckon as how we’d better be gone too.”

  “Perhaps you are right, Biddon, although I shall be loth to leave the vicinity when I am not satisfied of his fate.”

  “I’m satisfied, an’ you oughter be. Leastways, I�
��m goin’ tomorrow, an’ you kin stay and play with these Blackfeet as long as you like. I’ve been up to see the horses, and fixed things so as to start as soon as daylight. Any ’jections?”

  “None at all.”

  “Then ’tis settled, and let’s snooze.”

  But it was by no means settled. As I lay that night ruminating upon the strange scenes through which I had so recently passed, the pledge that I had made with Nat came back to me. I had promised to remain by him as long as there was hope; and to desert him now, would be a violation of that vow, and a base and unworthy act upon my part. For us both to leave him would probably seal his fate, if alive. It was by no means certain that if lost, he was irrecoverably gone, and I resolved that if the trapper should depart on the morrow I would remain.

  In making this resolution, perhaps it was not the desire alone to benefit my companion that prompted it, although I aver that that alone would have been sufficient. Unconsciously, almost, I found my thoughts wandering from Nat to the fair being who had been the cause of all this trouble. At most, I could only speculate and conjecture with regard to her, and the same speculations and conjectures I had made before. Undoubtedly she was a captive among a tribe of Indians, over whom she wielded a great influence; and that she was the same maid referred to by Biddon, seemed certain to me. I had mentioned this thought to him, in the hope of persuading him to remain. He started somewhat at the unsuspected suggestion, and, after a few moments’thought, admitted the probability of such being the case. To my surprise I found I had completely defeated my own plans.

  “I kinder thought then, that little thing war suthin’ more nor human, an’ ef it’s her, you see, I’m purty sure now. No use talkin’, I shan’t stay here longer than time ’nough to start. It might be that gal, and then agin it moughn’t. Shoot me ef it moughn’t.”

  I said no more, for I saw it would be useless. When he had once determined upon a matter there was no changing him. He was satisfied that “spirits invisible” had encompassed him, and there was but one way of escaping them.

  He was now reposing quietly beside me, utterly oblivious to external things; and as the night was far advanced, I sank upon my knees, and besought the great Disposer of events to guide me aright in the undertaking which I was about to commence, and to watch over my unfortunate companion, now doubtless in captivity; to protect the kind-hearted trapper, and to soon clear away the mystery which had enveloped us like a cloud. Then I lay down and slept.

  I awoke, hearing a slight rustling noise beside me, and, upon looking around, caught a glimpse of Biddon as he departed. It was very early, and he doubtless was after the horses, in order to leave at once the place which had such terrors for him. In the course of a half hour he returned.

  “The horses are waitin’,” said he.

  I arose and passed out. The three animals stood outside, a short distance away, each saddled and prepared for travel.

  “Come, work lively, and fetch them skins out,” said Biddon, commencing himself. I made no reply, but assisted him until everything was in readiness, for starting.

  “Jump on, and shoot me ef we won’t soon be clar of this outlandish place.”

  “Biddon, I am not going with you,” I said, mildly.

  “What?” he asked, looking wonderingly at one, as if doubting my senses.

  “I intend to remain here.”

  “Ogh! jump on, an’ shut up yer meat-trap; it’s time we started.”

  “I said I was going to remain here.”

  “Do you mean it, Jarsey?” he queried, bending such a fierce look upon me.

  “Most certainly I do.”

  “Then, all Bill Biddon’s got to say is, you’re a fool.”

  I colored slightly at this, but made no reply.

  “What yer going to stay fur? Get shot and lose yer ha’r, I s’pose, jist to please the reds.”

  “I am sorry, friend Biddon, that you feel thus. When Nathan Todd and I left the States for this country, we pledged eternal friendship to each other, and I am sure I should never feel at ease if I should leave him in this dire extremity. I am by no means satisfied that I can afford him no assistance, although he is a captive. He has no claims upon you, and I should not expect you to remain, but, as I said, I am determined not to leave this place until I have obtained satisfactory intelligence of him.”

  The trapper remained silent a few moments after this. He then spoke:

  “I s’pose you mean right, Jarsey, but you’re awful simple. Yer’s as what hopes you’ll find the other chap right side up and squar with his ha’r on, but I don’t ’spect your ha’r ’ll be yer’s tonight. Howsumever you’re bound to stay, I see, so yer’s good luck. I’d like to stay with you, but I ain’t backward to own Bill Biddon knocks under this time.”

  He reached his hard, horny hand, and I took it.

  “Good-by, Bill, I hope we shall meet again. We have not been long acquainted, but I trust long enough to be friends.”

  “And you’ll remember as how ole Bill Biddon didn’t mean what he said just now.”

  “Certainly, certainly, I know you did not.”

  “Wal, good-by it is, then.”

  A half-hour after and I was alone in the great wilderness of the Northwest.

  After parting with Biddon, I remained stationary a long time, meditating upon the strange resolve that I had acted upon. If looked at with the common-sense view that the honest trapper gave it, I was sensible it was nothing less than a piece of recklessness upon my part, which only could be excused by the motives that actuated me. I felt some regret certainly at parting with Biddon, for that honest, manly heart which throbbed within his massive breast had drawn me toward him, and I knew he had come to regard me in a far different light than he did at first. However, I was hopeful, and could not persuade myself that I was never to see him again.

  Toward night the sky gave evidence of an approaching storm. A strong wind arose, and a melancholy, desolate moaning, like the precursor of winter, could be heard at intervals in the forest. Darkness came on earlier than usual, and, as I passed into the trapper’s home, the storm burst upon me. No one who has not witnessed a storm in the wilderness, can appreciate its awful grandeur. As I cowered within the heart of the old forest king, its power was subdued to my ears; but enough reached them to give me an idea of the terrific spectacle without. The huge sides of the tree surrounding me rumbled and groaned as though it were yielding to the hurricane; the wind blew with such fury that at times it sounded as though wailing screams were rending the air above me; and the sharp splintering of the trees riven by the lightning, rivaled the crash of the thunderbolt itself.

  As the morning approached, the storm gradually died away, and as I stepped forth the sun was shining in unclouded splendor.

  Slinging my rifle over my shoulder, I wandered aimlessly forward, following the course of the stream for several hours. Finally, becoming considerably wearied, I seated myself upon a fallen tree, to gain a little rest; but my mind was in such a state of excitement that the desire to press forward was irresistible, and I arose again.

  As I stood upon the spot, I happened to look across the stream upon the prairie. The river at this point was flowing east and west, so that I looked to the southward; and as I did so I saw Biddon in the distance, riding leisurely away. He was miles distant, so that I could not hope to make my voice reach him; and as the prairie in many parts was submerged, it was out of the question to pursue with the hope of overtaking him. So I contented myself with watching him until he disappeared. He appeared precisely the same as when Nat and I first caught sight of him; and it struck me as a rather curious coincidence that my first and last glimpse of him were similar. Shortly after, he was a mere quivering speck on the horizon, and soon disappeared altogether.

  The storm which had just ended was the usher of the cold season. A strong wind had arisen, and was blowing coldly through the forest. The changes in these regions are remarkably sudden; and by the middle of the afternoon, needles of i
ce put out along the shores of the stream. I suffered much from this sudden and severe cold; and to make it worse, everything upon which I could lay hands was so water-soaked as to make it impossible to kindle a fire.

  I continued wandering aimlessly onward, until I descended a large valley, filled with trees of enormous growth. As I entered, I heard a crackling in the bushes above me. I looked carefully about, but could detect nothing, although the crackling was still heard. Creeping cautiously and stealthily up the bank, I came upon the cause of this apprehension. There was a species of fruit, called the “buffalo berry,” quite numerous here, and in among them, seated on his haunches, and contentedly devouring, was a grizzly bear. I started as I took in his colossal form, and turned to make a hasty retreat; but curiosity held me to the spot. He was a huge, unwieldy body; his massive form being enveloped in a coat of long, black, glossy hair, and his eyes small and glittering. His long nails rattled among the leaves, as he pulled the bushes toward him, and plucked the delicate fruit.

  All at once a mad desire to take this formidable creature’s life came upon me. I knew it was only the most skillful hunter who could prevail against him, and yet I determined to take the risk. As he sat, his side was turned toward me, and I made a low whistle to attract his attention. He stopped chewing instantly, and turned his head toward me as if listening. I could see his two coal-black eyes glistening plainly. I was lying upon my face, with my rifle resting upon a stone in front. Raising the hammer of my rifle, I took a long, a deliberate, a sure aim at one of his eyes, and before he changed his head, pulled the trigger.

  “How does that suit?” I asked exultingly, expecting to see him give up the ghost immediately. To my surprise and terror, I saw him sitting unmoved and apparently unhurt, but looking about him, as if to ascertain from what direction the shot had come. The next instant he caught sight of the bluish wreath from my rifle, and with a low growl of rage plunged directly toward me.

  That cumbrous body could roll over the ground much faster than I suspected, and I found that, when alarmed, I could also travel rapidly. But in the tangled undergrowth I was no match for him, as he crashed through it without the least inconvenience, and gained rapidly. I saw he would assuredly overtake me before I could go a hundred yards further; so throwing my rifle to the ground, I drew my knife, and waited his attack. As he came rolling forward, the blood from his wound trickled down, and daubed his mouth; while his red tongue lolled out, his mouth was wide open, and his long and white teeth shone with terrible ferocity. He was, indeed, a terrific animal, and I drew a deep breath as I felt that a struggle for life or death was at hand.