The Edward S. Ellis Megapack

by Edward S. Ellis

  “I’ll explain matters when we have a better opportunity,” I answered.

  “Jump in with me then, an’ I’ll git Tom Wilson to rest a while, and we’ll talk over matters and things.”

  I sprang into the boat, and the brigade was soon under way. The Yellowstone, being broad and deep and the current quite powerful, the work was comparatively light. The song was again taken up by thevoyageurs, all joining in the chorus and keeping time with the measured dip of their paddles. I seated myself in the stern, beside the steersman, who I found to be a clerk in the Hudson Bay Company, and a gentleman.

  “How long will you remain with us, Mr. Relmond?” he asked.

  “Only until night.”

  “I was in hopes you would accompany us to the settlement.”

  “I should be glad to do so, but circumstances forbid.”

  “It was quite fortunate,” he smiled, “that you and Biddon were acquainted. He is a noble fellow.”

  “Most assuredly he is. I accompanied him, as a seeker of adventures, last summer from Independence, and we separated in the autumn, while in the wilderness. I was considerably surprised to find him in your service.”

  “He had a misunderstanding with his employers, I believe. He had a dispute with one of their agents, and gave him a severe pounding. He was reproved rather sharply for this and left the company in disgust. This was during the winter. Shortly after he visited Red River settlement, and volunteered his services, and they were gladly accepted, as his skill was known to many.”

  “He has been then but a short time with you.”

  “Only a few weeks—but long enough to let us know the value of his services. This brigade is all owing to him.”

  “How so?”

  “You are aware we are now in the United States territory. It is not often that we extend our work into it, except in Oregon, which has lately fallen into the hands of the Americans. Biddon had engaged a large quantity of furs of the Indians in the neighborhood, intending them for one of their fur companies, but after his dispute he offered them to us, and this brigade was dispatched for the purpose of collecting them. He will find there is quite a pile of money due him at York fort when he arrives there.”

  Further time was spent in conversation with the clerks when I noticed a person had taken Biddon’s place at the oars. The trapper motioned me beside him, and seating ourselves in the opposite end of the boat he said:

  “Now we’ll have a talk, Jarsey, ogh!”

  “The first thing to be knowed,” said Biddon, “is how in the name of human natur you come in these parts. How war it, Jarsey?”

  “You must remember, Biddon, I’ve been a prisoner for the last six months.”

  “Did you ever hear nothin’ of Greeny?”

  “Yes; a rumor reached me that he was living with a tribe of Indians to the east of us.”

  “Altogether onpossible,” answered the trapper, with a shake of his head.

  “Why is it impossible?”

  “He’s had his ha’r raised sure, and never seed the next day arter we seed the last on him.”

  “I am more hopeful than you are. Recollect I have been a captive and am now here without bodily harm.”

  “It’s qua’r, I allow, how you come out, as you did. The reds down in them parts are ramparageous, and if it hadn’t been for that Jim, you spoke about, and that gal, you’d a gone under sure. I’s tuck once by them same chaps one time. Me an’ Snapper Jack was sat on one dark night in an awful snowstorm by a hundred on ’em. They blazed right into us, and Jack rolled over with a pound of lead in him and never said a word. I’s purty well riddled in my lower story, but I tuk through and got off with my ha’r, while Jack never knowed who tuk his. They cac’lated on toastin’ you up brown, and would ef it want fur that gal, as I’s sayin’ while he’s had it all.”

  “I cannot yet see, Biddon, why there is not a probability of Nat’s being alive. The Indians in these parts are on friendly intercourse with the traders, and it is in this region, if anywhere, that he will be found.”

  “I don’t b’lieve he’s about. They got him down thar, and he got it down thar, sure.”

  These words of the trapper dampened my expectations greatly. Much of the joy of my hope was that I expected to again grasp the hand of my old friend, and the thought that he had long been dead made me sad and gloomy. However, I was not ready to give up all hope, and determined that I should be satisfied of his fate before I returned to the States.

  The brigade proceeded regularly and rapidly down the Yellowstone, until the sun sinking in the west, warned them that night was at hand. The steersman informed me they should not be able to reach the Indian village that night, but would early the next day. Just as the shadows were blending with the darkness on the river banks, the brigade ran into shore for the night’s encampment. There was a dense forest on either side of us, which rendered our situation dark and gloomy; but this was soon dispelled by the jolly voyageurs. Fuel was collected, and a great roaring fire crackled and blazed cheerily around us; and the men passing to and fro, chatting and joking, the confusion of preparations for supper, made a scene well calculated to dispel all gloomy reveries. The three boats were hauled up on the banks, turned over, and their contents scattered among the owners, and all gathered around the hearty evening meal. These hardy fellows after the laborious day’s work, their appetites sharpened, and healthy truly,

  “Ate like horses, when you hear them eat.”

  The meal finished, the indispensable pipes were in requisition. Three or four huge fires were kindled, around which the men lazily stretched themselves, to while away the hour that must elapse ere they “turned in” for the night. The brigade included men in it, who had trapped and hunted the shores of the Frozen Sea to the plains of the Kansas, and from Labrador to the mouth of the Columbia, beyond the Rocky Mountains. They had encountered every imaginable foe: the intense cold and the polar bear of the far North, and the innumerable hordes of savages of the more temperate regions; and now they recounted their thrilling reminiscences to each other, and speculated upon the fate still in store for them. The hour passed rapidly, and ere I was aware, the voyageurs were gathering their blankets around them for the night’s rest.

  “Come, bundle up, Jarsey,” said Biddon, “for thar’ll be no time to snooze in the daylight.”

  The men were stretched at every point around the fire, their feet being toward it, their heads radiating outward, so that the three groups resembled the same number of immense wheels. As most of the places were occupied, I lay a little beyond the circle, within a foot or two of Biddon. The fires now smoldered, and the heavy darkness again settled over wood and river. Nothing disturbed the deep silence save the faint flow of the Yellowstone, or the dull noise of an ember as it broke apart, and now and then the distant wail of some wild animal. But a short time elapsed ere I joined the rest in the land of dreams.

  The night passed away without any event worthy of note; and the first apprisal I had of the approach of day, was by hearing loud cries of “Léve! léve! léve!”7 uttered by numerous voices.

  Starting up, I saw the voyageurs were all astir, and making ready to embark. The boats were launched, and being too early for breakfast, the men sprang in and seized the oars.

  “When we halt for breakfast,” said the steersman, “it will be at the Indian village, which I understand is your destination.”

  With the same inspiring song of yesterday, the men bent to their oars, and the boats shot rapidly through the foaming water. In the course of an hour or more, the brigade put in for breakfast, and the same bustling scene that had taken place the night before was re-enacted.

  The place chosen was a broad, open plot of grass, reaching down to the water’s edge, and extending some hundred feet back, when the edge of the forest was reached. No signs of Indians were seen, and I was somewhat puzzled to know how it was known they were in the vicinity. The clerk mentioned before, explained to me that Biddon had described the halting spot, and
the distance so accurately, that there could be no mistake, and the savages would soon make their appearance.

  We had scarcely spoken, when a movement was heard in the forest, and several Indians made their appearance. They seemed to understand the meaning of the brigade; for, directly behind them came numbers of others bearing loads of peltries—the furs of beavers, foxes, badgers, lynxes, martens, otters, and wolverines. A barter at once commenced, and in less than half an hour the whole array was deposited in the boats, and the Indians were proudly parading in the gaudy trinkets and dresses which had just fallen to their lot.

  “Where is their village?” I asked of Biddon.

  “A mile or so back in the woods; you can’t miss it.”

  “I can remain here without danger, can I not?”

  “Yas, I guess so—hold on, I’ll fix it for you.”

  With this he strode rapidly toward a man who appeared to be the chief, and commenced a conversation. He understood the Sioux tongue well enough to hold quite an intelligible conversation. The talk lasted but a moment, when he returned.

  “You needn’t be skeerish,” said he; “I’ve made it all right. I told that old chap you wanted to take a look at the country hereabouts, to skeer up some furs fur us agin. He was a little s’pishus at fust, shoot me ef he warn’t! and he axed ef you wanted to run off with that gal o’ theirs, ’cause ef you war, you’d better leave yer ha’r behind you. There’s been two or three round these parts after her, and he won’t stand it no longer. You’ve got to be mighty shy, Jarsey, I kin tell yer; but I hope you’ll git her fur all that, ogh!”

  “I am grateful to you for this kindness, Biddon—”

  “Never mind ’bout that; come to the pint ef you’ve got anything to say.”

  “I had nothing except to express my thanks, which you seem averse to receiving.”

  “It does go again my stummick, I allow, Jarsey; when you come the squaw over me, I can’t stand it. Yer’s as likes to talk fair and squar, and leave the rest. Shoot me ef I doesn’t! Wal I does, ogh!”

  “I suppose the time has come for us to separate, then, Biddon?”

  “Leastways it’s close at hand. Think you’d better go up to Selkirk settlement with us; don’t s’pose you will; think you’re a fool, shoot me ef I don’t, ogh!”

  “It seems our separation is to be something like it was before,” I laughed. “I believe you had a small opinion of my abilities at that time.”

  “Wal, yer’s as hopes you’ll come out right side up this time. In course I’ll have a glimpse of that ugly face of your’n agin. In course.”

  “I don’t know about that. As you have gone into the service of the Hudson Bay Company, your sphere of action will be far removed from mine, and it will be an occurrence which I cannot imagine at this time that will bring us together.”

  “That ain’t so sartin,” said the trapper, in a low, confidential tone.“I rather opine I’ll be down in Westport or Independence this fall, and ef these fellows cac’lates on keepin’ me around, they’ve got to step round ’emselves. Shoot me if they hain’t, ogh!”

  “I hope you will not spend your life in the dreary region north of this, for it will indeed be a dreary, lonely life for you.”

  “Wal, you see, Jarsey,” he continued, with a shade of feeling, “it don’t make much difference whar I traps. Yer’s as s’pects to go under somewhar in the mountains, and leave my topknot fur the buzzards and reds, and it mought as well be in one part as t’other of this country.”

  “Fudge, Biddon, don’t talk that way. Why I am sure I shall see you settled down in the States with a wife and a dozen children—”

  I paused as I noticed the trapper’s face. Some strange emotion was gaining the mastery over him; but he conquered in a minute.

  “Never talk that way agin, Jarsey; I can’t stand it.”

  “Pardon me; you will soon be under way,” I spoke, wishing to pass from the allusion which had been so painful to him. He turned, and looking at the brigade, which was making preparations to start, answered:

  “Yas; the boys are near ready, and they won’t wait. What yer goin’ to do, Jarsey, when we leave you ’mong the reds?”

  “I have told you, Biddon, that my sole purpose is to seek out Nat Todd. I have given you an account of my meeting and partial flight with Imogene, the captive, who has told me of his whereabouts. She is now waiting at Death Rock for me, and is as confident as I am that I shall bring Nat with me. These Indians, believing Imogene to be with the other tribe, will not suspect her flight unless a runner arrives here and acquaints them with it; but I have little fear of that, as I have no expectation of remaining any length of time.”

  “Wal, as that little gal has seed Nat, of course he’s kickin’. Bless her soul! I’d like to see her sweet face, but I s’pose the brigade can’t spare me just now. Jarsey, I’ve my s’picions that that other sperit is somewhere out toward Oregon, ’mong a tribe of redskins. I’ve had my s’picions I say, but I’ll say nothin’ more now ’cept to kind of hint I may take a tramp out in them parts some day to see ef thar be signs of her.”

  “I sincerely hope that such may be the case, although I cannot be as sanguine as you are. Should you rescue her, the debt of gratitude—”

  “There! that’ll do, ogh!” interrupted Biddon, imperatively. “Such things go agin my stummick, and I don’t want to hear ’em. As you’re on the track of Nat, go, fur he may be somewhar yit, in spite of the fears I have that he isn’t, arter all.”

  “Rest assured I shall leave no stone unturned. I shall seek him at once.”

  “And when you finds him, jest tell him old Bill Biddon is about, and ready to hunt savages with him any time, ef he don’t git behind me when shootin’ time comes. Ogh! ogh!” and the trapper enjoyed his joke merrily. He stopped suddenly and looked at the brigade. A few moments more and they would be under way.

  “Wal, Jarsey, talkin’ time’s gittin’ mighty short. I’d like to talk longer, but can’t do it this time. Hope we’ll have a time down in the States ’fore long.”

  “I sincerely trust we shall,” I answered, unwilling to turn away from the hopeful picture which he was drawing for himself.

  “And we’ll have Nat ’long with us,” he added.

  “Of course, for I am sure he would not willingly miss an opportunity of seeing his old friend again. Of course, Biddon, we shall meet, if not in this world, I hope in the next.”

  “P’r’aps so, though I can’t tell till we gits there. Don’t know much’bout them matters, ogh!”

  At this moment the voice of the steersman was heard, ordering the men to their places. Biddon turned, took a step, then halted and faced me.

  “Good-by, Jarsey.”

  He extended his hand, but ere I could take it it was hastily withdrawn. He mumbled something, dashed his hand across his face, and strode rapidly toward the boat.

  “Good-by, Biddon. God bless you!” I called after him.

  The voyageurs seized their oars, and in a few moments they were in the stream, their same cheery song echoing as loudly and as joyously as before. I stood upon the bank, watching them as the current bore them onward. In a few moments they reached a bend in the river—Biddon made a signal to me, and the next minute they had all vanished.

  As the brigade vanished down the river, and the song of thevoyageurs grew fainter and fainter, until it died away in the distant windings of the Yellowstone, I awoke from the mournful reverie into which I had fallen, and turned to the work before me. There was a dozen Indians around, all busy with their new possessions. Some were parading pompously in their new blankets, some examining their glitterng knives, and others wrenching off great mouthfuls from huge twists of tobacco, and all evidently in the highest spirits. The chief had been presented with a fine, polished rifle, and he was standing apart, trying its lock, and “drawing bead” on different objects in the distance.

  I waited till he appeared satisfied, and then approached and made a complimentary remark; I saw at once
it was not comprehended, and there was not probably a savage who could speak a word of English in the tribe. However, as they spoke the same tongue as the tribe in which I spent my captivity, my situation in this respect was not as bad as it might have been.

  In the course of half an hour, the chief started toward his village, the others sauntering along behind him, and myself at his side. His rifle was now thrown over his shoulder, and he seemed to have lost all interest in it as he walked thoughtfully forward, his dark eyes bent upon the ground. A few minutes’ walk through the forest brought us to the Indian village. It was so similar to the one before described, that it needs no mention here.

  The Blackfeet-Sioux are one of the many divisions of the Dacotah or Sioux tribe, whose hunting-grounds include the greater part of the vast territory of Nebraska. These subdivisions of this numerous people are tribes within themselves. Although speaking the same tongue, they are separate and literally independent of each other. Each has itsvillage and chief, whose authority is absolute. Like all North American Indians, their life is a migratory one; and the traveler who today finds them located on the Yellowstone or Little Missouri, may, a year after, find them as far westward as the Great Falls of the Missouri.

  My advent among these savages excited no unusual attention, as they are often visited by traders and hunters. The chief took me to his own lodge, where all the attention I could wish was given. I was gladly surprised to find upon the next day, that there was a half-breed among them who could speak the English tongue. His acquaintance I soon made. He was a middle-aged man, who had spent most of his life in trapping, sometimes as far northward as the Saskatchewan, and who often acted as interpreter for his tribe. He possessed the daring hardihood of the French trapper, and the low, ferocious cunning of the savage. He had ever considered this tribe as his people, having a squaw and several children.

  From this half-breed I learned that the flight of Imogene was not yet discovered, and that the tribe which held Nat was about a dozen miles to the eastward I informed the chief, through the interpreter, that I should make several days’ ramble through the woods, in order to get a better idea of the face of the country and of its resources. He seemed to believe I really was an agent of one of the fur companies, and offered me an escort. I declined, however, and the next morning started on foot in the direction of the tribe alluded to.