CHAPTER II.
A GLANCE BACKWARD.
It was late May at the Swiftwater Ranch; back in the east it would havebeen summer, but here the snow was falling heavily, and being whirledabout the buildings by the high wind, piling up in drifts on the leewardside, and being swept off the ground to windward. Down in the bunk-houseJack Danvers and Hugh Johnson were sitting on the floor near the warmstove, looking over pack-saddles, cinches and ropes, for they werepreparing to make a long journey.
Only the day before Jack had reached the ranch from New York, after anabsence of seven months, and all his friends there were glad to see himagain. During the winter he had succeeded in persuading his parents toconsent to his making the long trip up north to the Piegan camp, ofwhich Hugh and John Monroe had talked to him the year before. Mr.Sturgis, his uncle, wished to have him go, and had said that he waswilling to let Hugh be absent from the ranch during the time needed forthe journey and the stay in the Indian camp. This would be not less thanfour months, for it would take them a month to reach the camp, andnearly as much more to return, and it was not worth while to make solong a trip unless they were to stay with the Indians two or threemonths.
It will be remembered by those who have read the adventures of Jackduring his summer spent on Mr. Sturgis' ranch, that he had learned agood deal about life in the west;--to ride and shoot and throw arope--and had been taught by Hugh much of the knowledge required by onewho lived the open-air life of mountain and prairie. Hugh had said, andJack's uncle agreed with him, that they two could perfectly well makethe journey to the north. There was only one possible cause of anxiety,and that was the chance that they might meet with some party of hostileIndians, in which case they might have to fight for their lives. Therewas not much danger that this would happen, for spring had but justopened, the grass was only now beginning to start; the Indian ponies,which are always thin in flesh at the end of the winter, would not havebecome fat; and so it was too early for war parties to be moving aboutmuch. On the other hand, the riding and pack animals taken by Hugh wouldbe fat and in good condition, and so, well able to run away from anypursuers. It had been determined, too, to select horses that were fast,and when these precautions had been taken, and Hugh's great knowledge ofIndians and their ways was considered, the danger of trouble appearedvery slight.
Mr. Sturgis was extremely fond of Jack, and dearly loved his sister, andhe would not for a moment have thought of letting the boy run any risks.
"I didn't hardly know you yesterday, son, when you got off the train;you seem to have changed a heap since you went away from here last fall.You're sure grown; you're a heap taller than you were, and you lookkind o' white and bleached out, like you'd faded."
"I guess that's so, Hugh," replied Jack, "I know I've grown pretty neartwo inches, for I was measured last fall, when I entered school, andagain this spring when I left, and of course I'm white, because I'vebeen living in a house ever since I got back, and haven't been out ofdoors at all."
"Well, what did ye do all winter?" said Hugh; "went to school, I reckon,and learned a whole lot. Study hard?"
"Yes, I studied hard. Of course I wanted to do well, but after I'd beenback a little while, I thought that maybe if I worked right hard atschool, and got good reports right along, father would be more willingto have me come out here again and spend the summer with you."
"Well, that was pretty good sense. I expect ye tried to keep him pleasedwith your schooling right along."
"Yes, I did," said Jack. "I told Uncle Will about it soon after Istarted in at school, and he said it was a mighty good idea, and I'dbetter keep it up. I don't know whether they would have let me come ornot, if it hadn't been for Uncle Will. When he left home in the spring Iheard him say to mother, 'Jack's been working hard all winter, and he'sgetting to look pretty thin and white; I really think you'd better sendhim off to me again in a month or two, for that long trip that he andHugh have been planning.' So along in April I spoke to father aboutcoming out again. He said he was willing I should come if mother was,and that he'd talk to her about it; so after a while it got so that weall of us talked it over together, and at last father and mother bothsaid that I could come; and here I am, and mighty glad to get back here,too, you bet."
"Well, you bet, we're mighty glad to see you, and we'd like to have youstop here right along; only I don't expect that would do, 'cause ye'reyoung and ye've got a heap to learn; but it's sure mighty good for a boyto spend three or four months out here in the fine weather, and so toget ready for these long months when ye've got to live in a house allthe time."
"There's one thing I did last winter, Hugh, that I think is going to bea lot of fun; I learned how to make a bird skin."
"Make a bird skin!" said Hugh. "How do ye make it?"
"I mean I learned how to skin a bird, and stuff cotton into it, and fixit up so that it looks just like a dead bird lying there with its legsstretched out. You know there are people who study birds and know allabout all the different kinds. When they see a bird they can tell you ina minute just what its Latin name is, and where it lives in summer, andthen where it goes to pass the winter, for of course there are lots ofbirds that go south in the fall, until the weather gets warm, and thencome north again."
"Yes, that's so," said Hugh, "everybody knows that."
"Well," continued Jack, "of course there isn't any man who has been allover the world and seen all the birds that there are, alive; so the menthat go to one place, kill and skin a lot of the birds that live there,and then when they get back they put these skins in a museum, whereeverybody can see them; and there are a lot of men doing this all thetime; and so after a while the biggest museums come to have the skins ofpretty nearly all the birds there are. There must be a lot of 'em inall. An ornithologist told me there were more than 750 in NorthAmerica."
"What was it told you that?" asked Hugh.
"An ornithologist," said Jack.
"What's that?" questioned Hugh; "it's a mighty long word, 'pears to me."
"It means a man that studies birds, and knows all about them."
"Well," said Hugh, "I'd hate to be called by such a name as that, evenif I did know all about birds."
"Why," said Jack, "that word isn't anything to some of the Latin namesthese little birds have. I don't know what they are, many of them, atleast, but they're all written down in Uncle Will's bird book, up at thehouse, and some of them are terrors, I can tell you."
"And this man told you there was 750 different kinds of birds in thiscountry, did he?" said Hugh.
"That's what he told me," said Jack.
"Well," said Hugh, "of course this is a big country, and I make no doubtthere's lots o' birds that I never saw, but I don't believe that there'sfifty different kinds o' birds around this ranch."
"Oh, yes there are. I'll bet there's twice as many as that. Why just tryand count 'em up for yourself; think of all the different kinds of ducksand geese that we saw last fall, and the grouse, and the robins and thegray jays. I'll bet you could count more than fifty yourself, if you hadtime to think about it."
"Well," said Hugh, "maybe I could; come to think about it; there's aheap o' different kinds o' birds. I never paid much attention to any of'em, only the kinds that's good to eat; but say, I should think it wouldbe mighty hard work skinning these little birds; their skin must beawful thin, and tear mighty easy."
"Well," said Jack, "that's just what I thought when I started in, butthe fact is their skins are pretty tough. Of course you can't pull atthem the way you would at a deer skin, but if you know how to do it, youscarcely ever tear a bird skin.
"Uncle Will put me up to this soon after I got home, and he took me downto a bird skinner and hired him to give me lessons. I used to go downthere twice a week all through the winter and spring, and I have got sonow that I can make a pretty good skin, and work pretty fast, too. I'mgoing to try to collect a few skins here, sometime when I can. If I comeout another summer to stay here, I shall try to make a collection of allthe birds t
hat live here in summer."
"Well, I'd like right well to see you doing that work. It seems to me itwould be mighty hard, but then there's a whole lot of things that weain't none of us ever done that looks hard and yet are real easy afterwe know how to do 'em."
While all this talk was going on, they had been sorting over thematerial that was strewed on the floor, had picked out four good strongpack saddles, and the greater part of their riggings. Two of the lashcinches were in good order, the other two needed new hooks. Hugh steppedout of doors, and presently returned, bringing with him a small elkhorn, from which he sawed off two lengths, each of which bore a prong.These he placed in a vice, shaped with a heavy rasp, and then passedover to Jack to fasten to the cinches. The smooth hook of horn was lacedto the end of the cinch so that it hung down three inches below it.
All the straps of the pack saddle were now carefully looked over; anythat were worn or in any way weak were renewed; sling ropes of just theright length were cut for each saddle, and new lash ropes took the placeof one or two that showed signs of wear; four hackamores were made, onefor each pack horse.
This work took up all the morning, and was not entirely finished whenthe horn blew for dinner.