CHAPTER TWENTY.
A GALLOP TO THE RESCUE--A DISCOVERY--RIGHT-ABOUT FACE--A DISAGREEABLESURPRISE AND A SUDDEN EJECTION--A CALM AFTER THE STORM--MARY AHUNTRESS--DICK'S STORY OF THE MURDERED TRAPPER.
When Dick, _alias_ the Wild Man of the West, left his cave, as narratedin a previous chapter, and galloped away with reckless speed to affordthe aid of his stout right arm to his friends in the Mountain Fort--forhe counted them friends, although they little knew it--he felt that ifhe was to be of any use he must travel over the country as he had nevertravelled before, except once, when he had to fly for his life beforefive hundred Pawnee warriors.
It was a grand sight to behold that herculean backwoodsman on his noblesteed, which seemed so well proportioned to its rider that it carriedhim as if he were but a boy, flying over the country on this brotherlyerrand. Mile after mile was passed, not indeed at full speed, for thatwould have broken the good horse down long before the goal was reached,but at a bowling gallop, taking bogs, and rocks, and fallen trees, andwatercourses, with an elastic bound that told of bone and muscleoverflowing with surplus energy.
Dick patted the horse's arching neck with a look of pride and affection,and the animal tossed its head with a slight neigh of pleasure and aplayful snap towards its rider's right foot; for it loved its master, asthe lower animals do always love those who treat them well, and it loveda wild, long, careering gallop, for that was the only means by which itcould relieve its feelings.
There was something unusually wild-like about this horse, besides itsgreat size and extraordinarily long mane and tail. It carried its headhigh and its ears pointed forward, and it looked boldly from side toside, as it went springingly along, more like a human being than ahorse. It actually appeared to be taking intelligent notice of thingsaround it. So much so, that Dick had got into a habit of saying a wordor two now and then to it in a grave tone, as if he were conversing witha friend.
"Ay, it's a fine country, isn't it?" he said, patting the neck again.
The ears were pointed backwards at once, and a little neigh or squeak,with a toss of the head, was the reply.
"Pity ye can't speak, an't it?" continued Dick in a low, quiet tone.
The horse appeared to know that this was merely a meditative remark, notpointedly addressed to itself for it only put back one ear and kept theother forward.
"Now, lass," said Dick firmly (both ears went full back at that soundand remained there), "take it easy; don't exert yerself over much. Itan't o' no use--a short pace or two, and--so."
The horse went full swing over a roaring watercourse as he spoke, andalighted safe on the opposite bank, but the gravelly soil wastreacherous; it gave way, and the animal's hind legs slipped back. Witha bound Dick sprang to the ground.
"Hyp, good horse," he cried, raising the rein.
A powerful effort, and footing was regained. Dick vaulted into thesaddle (he seldom used the stirrup), and away they went again, blithe asever. Then a long strip of tangled forest appeared. Dick divergedhere. It was easier to skirt it than to crash through it. Presently abroad deep river came in view. There was no looking for a ford, nochecking the pace. In they went with sounding plunge, as if water weretheir native element, breasted the foaming tide, and gaining theopposite bank, went steadily forward.
Thus on they sped, over hill and dale, all that night, for the moon wasbright in a cloudless sky, and part of next day. Then Dick made asudden halt and dismounted, to examine something on the ground.Footprints of Indian horses--four of them--going in the direction of hisdwelling!
Dick rose, and his strong brows were knitted, and his lips firmlypressed together. For a moment or two he pondered, then he told hishorse to follow him, and, dropping the bridle, set off at a rapid walk,keeping steadily on the tracks, and stooping now and then to examinethem when the nature of the ground rendered them less discernible. Thushe retraced his course for about a mile, when he stopped and muttered,"No doubt o't. Them reptiles niver come to these diggins but when theywant to pay me a visit."
As he said this he remounted his horse and sat for a minute or twoundecided. It was hard to give up his purpose; but it was impossible toleave his cavern defenceless with Mary in it, and the certainty thatsavages were hunting it out. That thought settled the matter. He shookthe reins, and back they flew again towards the cave, at a much quickerpace than they had hitherto maintained.
The result was that Dick gained the entrance of his ravine just twohours later than the savages, and in time to superintend personally thehospitalities of his own dwelling. Riding quickly up to the head of thegorge, he dismounted and ascended the pathway to his cave with giantstrides and a beating heart, for Dick thought of Mary, and the words"too late" _would_ whizz about in his brain.
The Indians were still sitting round the fire enjoying themselves whenMarch and Mary, to their unutterable surprise, beheld Dick stridethrough the low doorway of the cave, raise himself to his full height,and stand before the stricken invaders, absolutely blazing with wrath.His eyes, his hair, his beard, his glistening teeth, seemed eachindividually imbued with indignation.
The Indians did not move--they could not move--they simply sat andstared; and thus both parties continued for a quarter of a minute.
Mary used that short time well. She knew exactly what to do. Dartinginto her chamber, she seized the end of the rope connected with the tankand pulled it violently. March saw the rock above the fireplace drop!A clear, sparkling cataract sprang as if by magic from the wall! Nextinstant there was black darkness and yells, steam, shrieks, and howls--ahissing, hurling hubbub, such as no man can possibly conceive of unlesshe has seen and heard it! We will not, therefore, even attempt adescription.
The Indians rushed _en masse_ to the doorway. Death in the jaws of theWild Man of the West was infinitely preferable to being parboiled andsuffocated; but the Wild Man had judiciously made way for them. Theygained the outer cave, and sprang down the pathway. Dick plied thehandle of the shrieking-machine with the secondary object in view ofrelieving his own feelings! The din was indescribable! If thoseIndians are not lunatics at this moment they must be dead, for therecould be no alternative in the circumstances. Certain it is theyvanished like smoke, and they have never been heard of since--from thatday to this!
Really, dear reader, if it were not that we are recounting the doings ofa Wild Man--a notoriously eccentric creature--we would feel it necessaryto impress upon you that such scenes as we have been describing are notcharacteristic of life in the Rocky Mountains; nay, more, we questionwhether such scenes as these have ever been witnessed or enacted inthose regions at any time, with the exception, of course, of the presentoccasion. But it must be carefully borne in mind that we are recountingthe deeds of a "Wild Man," and, although the aspect of outward things--the general tone and current of manners and customs and naturalphenomena--may remain exactly the same as heretofore, and be faithfullydescribed without exaggeration (as we maintain they are), yet the acts,devices, and vagaries of such a creature as a Wild Man may, indeed mustnecessarily, be altogether eccentric and unparalleled. We thereforepause here to express a hope that, whatever credit you may be able togive to the reported deeds of this hero, you will not withhold yourbelief in the fidelity of the other portions of this narrative.
No sooner, then, were those unwelcome visitors ejected than Dickreturned to the scene of devastation and shouted, "Hullo! Mary!"
"Safe, all safe," she replied, as, with the assistance of March Marston,she pushed the plank across the chasm, and returned to the centre cave.
"Is the lad March safe too?" inquired Dick as he busied himself instriking a light with flint and steel.
"All right," answered the youth for himself, "but horribly battered, an'fit to yell with pain, not to mention surprise. Do look sharp and getthe fire up. Sich doins' as this I never did see nor hear of since Ileft the frontier. I do declare it's worthy o' the Wild Man o' the Westhimself. What d'ye find to laugh at, Dick? I'm sure if ye had
mymiserable bones in yer body at this moment, ye'd laugh wi' your mouthscrewed the wrong way. Look alive, man!"
"Patience, lad, patience. That's one o' the vartues, I believe;leastwise, so I'm told. Ah, it's caught at last. (Hand me that drystuff on the south shelf, Mary; ye can find it i' the dark, I doubtnot.) Yes, it's a vartue, but I can't boast o' having much o't myself.I dun know much about it from 'xperience, d'ye see? There, now, we'llgit things put to rights," he added, applying the kindled spark to somedry chips and producing a flame, with which he ignited a pine-knot, andstuck it blazing in a cleft in the rock. "Just see what them reptilesha' done to me. If it wasn't that I'm a good-tempered feller, I b'lieveI'd git angry. See, March, boy, there's a shelf in the corner that'sescaped the flood. Lie ye down there, while Mary and me puts the placein order."
"I'd rather help you," said March dismally. "I don't b'lieve it canmake me worse, an' perhaps it'll make me better. I wonder what in theworld pain was made for."
"Ye'll only be in our way, lad. Lie down," said Dick, seizing a largebroom and beginning to sweep away the water and ashes and pieces ofcharcoal with which the floor was plentifully covered, while Mary pickedup the scattered skins and furniture of the cave, and placed them on theledge of rock, about four feet from the ground, which Dick termed ashelf.
This ledge ran all round the apartment, so March selected a corner, and,throwing a dry skin upon it, stretched himself thereon, and soon foundhis sufferings relieved to such an extent that he began to question hishost as to his sudden and unlooked-for return.
"How came ye to drop in upon us in the very nick o' time like that?" hesaid, gazing languidly at Mary, who bustled about with the activity of akitten--or, to use an expression more in keeping with the surroundingcircumstances, a wild kitten.
Dick, without checking his broom, told how he had discovered the tracksof the Indians, and returned at once, as has been related.
"Then," said March, looking anxiously at his host, "you'll not be ableto help my poor comrades and the people at the Mountain Fort."
"It an't poss'ble to be in two places at once nohow ye can fix it,"returned Dick, "else I'd ha' been there as well as here in the course ofa few hours more."
"But should we not start off at once--now?" cried March eagerly,throwing his legs off the ledge and coming to a sitting position.
"You an't able," replied Dick quietly, "and I won't move till I have putthings to rights here, an' had a feed an' a night's rest. If it woulddo any good, I'd start this minute. But the fight's over by this time--leastwise, it'll be over long afore we could git there! and if it's notto be a fight at all, why nobody's none the worse, d'ye see?"
"But maybe they may hold the place for a long time," argued March, "an'the sudden appearance of you and me might turn the scale in theirfavour."
"So it might--so it might. I've thought o' that, and we'll startto-morrow if yer able. But it would be o' no use to-night. My goodhorse can't run for ever right on end without meat and rest."
"Then we'll start to-morrow," cried March eagerly.
"Ay, if ye can mount and ride."
"That I have no fear of; but--but--" at that moment March's eyeencountered Mary's--"but what about Mary?"
"Oh, she'll stop here till we come back. No fear o' redskins troublin'her agin for some time," replied Dick, throwing down the broom andpatting the girl's head. "Come, lass, let's have some supper. ShowMarch what a capital cook ye are. I'll kindle a rousin' fire an' spreadsome pine-branches round it to sit on, for the floor won't be quite dryfor some time. What red reptiles, to be sure! and they was actuallydevourin' my poor old bay horse. What cannibals!"
In the course of an hour the cavern had resumed its former appearance ofcomfort. The ruddy glare of the fire fell warmly on the rocky walls andon the curling smoke, which found egress through the hole near the roofthat let in light during the day. Branches were spread on the floor, soas to form a thick pile near the fire, and on the top of this sat theWild Man of the West with the most amiable of smiles on his large,handsome countenance, and most benignant of expressions beaming in hisclear blue eyes, as he gazed first at Mary, who sat on his right hand,then at March, who sat on his left, and then at the iron pot which sator stood between his knees, and into which he was about to plunge alarge wooden ladle.
"There's worse things than buffalo-beef-bergoo, March, an't there? Ha,ha! my lad, tuck that under yer belt; it'll put the sore bones rightfaster than physic. Mary, my little pet lamb, here's a marrow-bone;come, yer growin', an' ye can't grow right if ye don't eat plenty o'meat and marrow-bones; there," he said, placing the bone in question onher pewter plate. "Ah! Mary, lass, ye've been mixin' the victuals.Why, what have we here?"
"Moose nose," replied the girl with a look of pleasure.
"I do b'lieve--so it is! Why, where got ye it? I han't killed a moosefor three weeks an' more."
"Me kill him meself," said Mary.
"You!"
"Ay, me! with me own gun, too!"
"Capital!" cried Dick, tossing back his heavy locks, and gazing at thechild with proud delight. "Yer a most fit an' proper darter for theWild--a--_ho_!" sneezed Dick, with sudden violence, while Mary glancedquickly up and opened her eyes very wide. "Whisst--to--a--hah! whew!wot a tickler! I raally think the mountain air's a-goin' to make mesubjick to catchin' colds."
March took no notice of the remark. His attention was at that momentdivided between Mary's eyes and a marrow-bone.
There is no accounting for the besotted stupidity at this time of MarchMarston, who was naturally quick-witted, unless upon the principle thatprejudice renders a man utterly blind. A hundred glaring and obviousfacts, incidents, words, and looks, ought to have enlightened him as towho his new friend Dick really was. But his mind was so thoroughlyimbued, so saturated, with the preconceived notion of the Wild Man ofthe West being a huge, ferocious, ugly monster, all over red, or perhapsblue, hair, from the eyes to the toes, with canine teeth, and, veryprobably, a tail, that unintentional hints and suggestive facts weretotally thrown away upon him. The fact is, that if Dick had at thatmoment looked him full in the face and said, "_I'm_ the Wild Man of theWest," March would have said he didn't believe it!
"How came ye by the iron pot?" inquired March suddenly, as the sight ofthat vessel changed the current of his thoughts.
Dick's countenance became grave, and Mary's eyes dropped.
"I'll tell ye some other time," said the former quietly; "not now--notnow. Come, lad, if ye mean to mount and ride wi' me to-morrow, you'llha' to eat heartier than that."
"I'm doing my best. Did you say it was _you_ that shot the moose deer,Mary?"
"Yes, it was me. Me go out to kill bird for make dinner, two days back,an' see the moose in one place where hims no can escape but by one way--narrow way, tree feets, not more, wide. Hims look to me--me's look tohim. Then me climb up side of rocks so hims no touch me, but _must_pass below me quite near. Then me yell--horbuble yell!" ("Ha!" thoughtMarch, "music, sweetest music, that yell!") "an' hims run round in greatfright!" ("Oh, the blockhead," thought March)--"but see hims no can gitaway, so hims rush past me! Me shoot in back of hims head, an' himdrop."
"Huzza!" shouted Dick, in such a bass roar that March involuntarilystarted. "Well done, lass; ye'll make a splendid wife to a boldmountaineer."
March could not believe his eyes, while he looked at the modest littlecreature who thus coolly related the way in which she slaughtered themoose; but he was bound to believe his ears, for Mary _said_ she did thedeed, and to suppose it possible that Mary could tell a falsehood was,in March's opinion, more absurd than to suppose that the bright suncould change itself into melted butter! But Dick's enthusiasticreference to Mary one day becoming the wife of a mountaineer startledhim. He felt that, in the event of such a calamitous circumstancehappening, she could no longer be his sister, and the thought made himfirst fierce, and then sulky.
"D'ye kill many mountain sheep here, Dick?" inquired March, when hisru
ffled temper had been smoothed down with another marrow-bone.
"Ay, lots of 'em."
"What like are they close? I've never been nearer to 'em yet than athousand yards or so--never within range."
"They're 'bout the size of a settlement sheep, an' skin somethin' likethe red deer; ye've seen the red deer, of coorse, March?"
"Yes, often; shot 'em too."
"Well, like them; but they've got most treemendous horns. I shot onelast week with horns three fut six inches long; there they lie now inthat corner. Are ye a good shot, March?"
"Middlin'."
"D'ye smoke?"
"Yes, a little; but I an't a slave to it like some."
"Humph!" ejaculated Dick sarcastically. "If ye smoke `a little,' howd'ye know but ye may come to smoke much, an' be a slave to it like othermen? Ye may run down a steep hill, an' say, when yer near the top, `Ican stop when I like'; but ye'll come to a pint, lad, when ye'll try tostop an' find ye can't--when ye'd give all ye own to leave off runnin';but ye'll have to go on faster an' faster, till yer carried off yerlegs, and, mayhap, dashed to bits at the bottom. Smokin' and drinkin'are both alike. Ye can begin when you please, an', up to a certainpint, ye can stop when ye please; but after that pint, ye _can't_ stopo' yer own free will--ye'd die first. Many an' many a poor fellow _has_died first, as I know."
"An' pray, Mister Solomon, do _you_ smoke?" inquired March testily,thinking that this question would reduce his companion to silence.
"No, never."
"Not smoke?" cried March in amazement. The idea of a trapper notsmoking was to him a thorough and novel incomprehensibility.
"No; nor drink neither," said Dick. "I once did both, before I came tothis part o' the country, and I thank the Almighty for bringing me to aplace where it warn't easy to get either drink or baccy--speciallydrink, which I believe would have laid me under the sod long ago, if Ihad bin left in a place where I could ha' got it. An' now, as Mary hasjust left us, poor thing, I'll tell ye how I came by the big iron pot.There's no mystery about it; but as it b'longed to the poor child'sfather, I didn't want to speak about it before her."
Dick placed an elbow on each knee, and, resting his forehead upon hishands, stared for some moments into the fire ere he again spoke.
"It's many years now," said he in a low, sad tone, "since I left home,and--but that's nothin' to do wi' the pint," he added quickly. "Yousee, March, when I first came to this part o' the world I fell in with acomrade--a trapper--much to my likin'. This trapper had been jilted bysome girl, and came away in a passion, detarminin' never more to returnto his native place. I never know'd where he come from, nor thepartic'lars of his story, for that was a pint he'd never speak on. Idon't believe I ever know'd his right name. He called himself Adam;that was the only name I ever know'd him by.
"Well, him an' me became great friends. He lived wi' a band of PawneeInjuns, and had married a wife among them; not that she was a pure Injunneither, she was a half-breed. My Mary was their only child; she was asuckin' babe at that time. Adam had gin her no name when we first met,an' I remember him askin' me one day what he should call her; so Iadvised Mary--an' that's how she come to git the name.
"Adam an' me was always together. We suited each other. For myself, Ihad ta'en a skunner at mankind, an' womankind, too; so we lived wi' thePawnees, and hunted together, an' slep' together when out on the tramp.But one o' them reptiles took a spite at him, an' tried by every way hecould to raise the Injuns agin' him, but couldn't; so he detarmined tomurder him.
"One day we was out huntin' together, an', being too far from the Pawneelodges to return that night, we encamped in the wood, an' biled ourkettle--this iron one ye see here. Adam had a kind o' likin' for't, andalways carried it at his saddle-bow when he went out o' horseback. We'djust begun supper, when up comes the Wild-Cat, as he was called--Adam'senemy--an' sits down beside us.
"Of course, we could not say we thought he was up to mischief, though wesuspected it, so we gave him his supper, an' he spent the night with us.Nixt mornin' he bade us good-day, an' went off. Then Adam said hewould go an' set beaver traps in a creek about a mile off. Bein' lazythat day, I said I'd lie a bit in the camp. So away he went. The campwas on a hill. I could see him all the way, and soon saw him in thewater settin' his traps.
"Suddenly I seed the Wild-Cat step out o' the bushes with a bow an'arrow. I knew what was up. I gave a roar that he might have heard tenmiles off, an' ran towards them. But an arrow was in Adam's back beforehe could git to the shore. In a moment more he had the Injun by thethroat, an' the two struggled for life. Adam could ha' choked him easy,but the arrow in his back let out the blood fast, an' he could barelyhold his own. Yet he strove like a true man. I was soon there, for Inearly burst my heart in that race. They were on the edge of the water.The Wild-Cat had him down, and was tryin' to force him over the bank.
"I had my big sword wi' me, an' hewed the reptile's head off with it atone blow, sendin' it into the river, an' tossin' the body in after it.
"`It's too late,' says Adam, as I laid him softly on the bank.
"I could see that. The head of the shaft was nearly in his heart. Hetried to speak, but could only say, `Take care o' my wife an' Mary'--then he died, and I buried him there."
Dick paused, and clenched both hands convulsively as the thought of thatblack day came back upon him. But the glare in his eye soon melted intoa look of sadness.
"Well, well," he continued, "it's long past now. Why should I be angrywith the dead? Adam's wife never got the better o' that. She droppedher head like a prairie flower in the first blast of winter, an' wassoon beside her husband.
"I waited till the little child could stump about on its own legs, an'then I mounted my horse an' rode away with it in my arms. The onlythings belongin' to poor Adam I brought with me was the iron pot an' hislong rifle. There the rifle stands in the corner. I've used it eversince."
"And have you and Mary lived here all alone since that day?"
"Ay. I came straight here--not carin' where I went, only anxious to getout o' the sight o' men, an' live alone wi' the child. I sought out adwellin' in the wildest part o' these mountains, an' fell upon thiscave, where we've lived happy enough together."
"Do you mean to say the child has never played with other children?"inquired March, amazed at this discovery.
"Not much. I give her a run for a month or two at a time, now an' agin,when I fall on a friendly set o' well-disposed redskins--just to keepthe right sort o' spirit in her, and comfort her a bit. But she'salways willin' to live alone wi' me."
"Then she's never learned to read?" said March sadly.
"That has she. She's got one book. It's a story about a giant an' afairy, an' a prince an' princess. Most 'xtraornar' stuff. I got itfrom a Blood Injun, who said he picked it up in a frontier settlementwhere the people had all been murdered. When we had nothin' better todo, I used to teach her her letters out o' that book, an' the moment shegot 'em off she seemed to pick up the words, I dun' know how. She'sawful quick. She knows every word o' that story by heart. An' she'sinvented heaps o' others o' the most amazin' kind. I've often thoughto' goin' to the settlements to git her some books, but--"
Dick paused abruptly, and a dark frown settled on his features, as ifthe thoughts of civilised men and things revived unpleasant memories.
"The fact is," he continued somewhat bitterly, "I've been a hater of myrace. You'd scarcely believe it, lad, but you are the first man I'veever told all this to. I can't tell why it is that I feel a likin' forye, boy, an' a desire to have ye stop with me. But that must not be. Ihad but one friend. I must not make another to have him murdered,mayhap, before my eyes. Yet," he added in a gentle tone, taking March'shand in his and stroking it, "I feel a likin' for ye, boy, that makes mesad to think o' partin'."
"But we don't need to part, Dick," said March eagerly. "I like you too,and I like your style of life, an'--" He was going to have added that heliked Mary, and that
he would live with them both all his days, when thelittle cottage at Pine Point settlement and his loving mother rosebefore him, and caused him to drop his head and terminate his speechabruptly.
Just then Mary re-entered the cavern, and put an end to theconversation.