CHAPTER EIGHT.
A CACHE DISCOVERED--BERTRAM BECOMES VALOROUS--FAILURE FOLLOWS, AND ABRIEF SKIRMISH, FLIGHT, AND SEPARATION ARE THE RESULTS.
The sun was high, scattering the golden clouds in the bright sky,gilding the hilltops, flooding the plains, vivifying vegetable life, andgladdening the whole animal creation, when, on the following morning,our wearied trappers raised their heads and began to think of breakfast.
To do these trappers justice, however, we must add that their looks,when they became wide enough awake to take full cognisance of thescenery, indicated the presence of thoughts and emotions of a moreelevated character, though, from the nature of their training frominfancy, they wanted words to express their feelings.
It was otherwise with Bertram and March Marston. Their exclamations,the instant they arose, showed that both their hearts were keenly aliveto the good and the beautiful which surrounded them--and their tongueswere not altogether incapable of uttering the praise of Him who clothesso gorgeously the lovely earth and peoples it with millions of happycreatures--yes, happy creatures, for, despite the existence of death andsin and sorrow everywhere, and the croaking of misanthropes, there _is_much, very much, of pure, overflowing happiness here below.
"Come, March--Mr Bertram, time presses," said Redhand, interrupting thetwo friends in the midst of earnest conversation; "we've got a long daybefore us, and, mayhap, a fight with redskins at the end o't, so itbehoves us to make a good breakfast and set off as soon as we can.We're late enough already."
"Ah, Redhand!" exclaimed March, "you're a terrible fellow for duty an'business, an' all that sort o' thing. It's always `time to be off,' or`time to think o' this or that,' or `we mustn't put off,' with you. Whywon't ye let us take a breathin' spell once in a way to enjoy ourselves,eh?"
The old man pointed to the sun. "You've enjoyed yourself late enoughto-day, han't ye?"
"Come, March, you're in a fault-finding humour this morning," saidBertram as they walked towards the camp. "Let's enjoy ourselves inspite of circumstances. Do you know, I hold it to be exceedingly wiseas well as philosophical, to make the best of things at all times."
"Do you?" exclaimed March in a tone of affected surprise; "now that'sodd. You must be a real clever fellow to have made up your mind on thatpoint. But somehow or other I'm inclined to think that most o' thetrappers hereabouts are as wise as yourself on it, though, mayhap, theydon't say it just in the same words. There's Waller, now, as 'll tellye that when he `can't help it he guesses he'll jist grin an' bear it.'And there's an old Irish trapper that's bin in the mountains nigh fortyyears now, and who's alive at this day--if he bean't dead--that used tosay to himself when ill luck came upon him, `Now, Terence, be aisy, boy;an' av ye can't be aisy, be as aisy as ye can.' So you see, MrBertram, we have got a few sparks of wisdom in these diggins."
"Now, then, stop yer feelosophy," cried Bounce, hitching his shouldersso as to induce his light load to take up a more accommodating position."Ye didn't use to be a slow feller, March; wot's to do? Ye ain'ta-goin' to cave in 'cause we're gettin' nigh the redskins, are ye?"
To this March deigned no reply, but, swinging his bundle over hisshoulder, set off at a pace that speedily left his laughing comrades farbehind. When, in the course of an hour after, they overtook him, he wasdiscovered lying flat on his back, with his head resting on his bundle,and smoking his pipe with an air of perfect satisfaction.
During the course of that day the trappers walked about thirty miles.Towards the afternoon they came to a large river, along the banks ofwhich they pursued their way, led by Redhand, who seemed as familiarwith the country as if he had dwelt there from infancy. The oldtrapper's kindly visage was lighted up with a smile of recognition, everand anon, when some new and striking feature of the landscape opened upto view, as if he had met with and were greeting some personal friend.He spoke occasionally in a low tone to March, who usually kept close tohis side, and pointed to spots which were associated in his memory withadventures of various kinds. But Redhand's observations were few. Hepreferred to listen to the conversations of his comrades, as theyplodded steadily along, enlivening their march with many an anecdote andlegend.
At last Redhand called a halt, and gazed inquiringly around him, as ifin search of some object.
"Wot's up?" inquired Bounce earnestly.
"It was hereabouts, somewhere," muttered Redhand, to himself rather thanto his friend; then added quickly, as he threw down his pack, "Ay, thereit is--never touched. Now that's what I call luck."
"_Wot's_ luck?" inquired Waller.
"Ah, dat is de keevestion," added Gibault with a look of surprise.
"You must know, lads," said Redhand, turning to his comrades, whoobserved his movements with considerable astonishment; "you must know,lads, there was an old chap who once trapped beavers up in them parts--"
"Oh! it's a hanikdot," interrupted Big Waller; "then I guess we'd aswell sot down." So saying, he seated himself on his bundle and, as amatter of course, proceeded to fill his pipe. The others followed hisexample, with the exception of Redhand, who remained standing, and ofBertram, who quickly opened his sketch-book, that being the firstopportunity he had enjoyed during the day of making an entry therein.
"Right," exclaimed Bounce. "It's allers more feelosophical to sot thanto stand--also more ekornomical, 'cause it saves yer moccasins. Go onwith yer story, old man."
"It ain't a story," said Redhand; "nor I don't think it can even becalled an anecdote. Well, this old chap that once trapped beaver inthem parts came down to Pine Point settlement one year with a load o'furs, sold 'em all off, took a ragin' fever, and died." Redhand paused,and gazed dreamily at the ground.
"I say," observed Bounce seriously, "ain't that wot ye may call raithera short hanikdot--not much in it, eh?"
"But before he died," resumed Redhand without noticing the interruption,"he sent for me an' said: `Redhand, I'm goin' onder, an' I've got someproperty as I don't want lost. Ye know Beaver Creek?' `Yes,' says I,`every fut of it.' `Well, then,' says he, `there's a spot there withthree mounds on the right side o' the Creek and a tall poplar in frontof 'em.' `I know it,' says I. `Well, w'en I last come from that part,'says he, `I made a _cache_ at the foot o' that poplar, an' put one ortwo things in, which it 'ud be a pity to lose--so I give 'em to you,Redhand. I was chased by Injuns at the place, so I couldn't stop tobring 'em away, d'ye see?' `An' what were the things ye put there?'said I. But he gave me no answer; his mind began to wander, and henever spoke sense again. Now, lads, this is Beaver Creek, and therestands the poplar in front o' the three mounds."
Redhand pointed to the tree as he spoke, and the others started up withalacrity, for the little touch of romance connected with the incident,combined with their comparatively destitute condition, and theirignorance of what the concealed treasure might be, powerfully stirredtheir curiosity.
Arming themselves with strong staves, they began to dig away the earthat the roots of the poplar.
After a few minutes' hard work, Bounce rose to wipe the perspirationfrom his brow, and said--
"Wot for didn't ye tell us o' this before, Redhand?"
"Because I wasn't sure the _cache_ might not have bin discovered longago, and I didn't want to risk disappointin' ye."
"Hallo! here's _somethin'_," exclaimed Big Waller, as the point of thestake with which he tore up the earth struck against some hardsubstance.
"Have a care, boy," cried Bounce, stooping down and clearing away theearth with his hands. "P'r'aps it's easy broken. No--why--it's a keg!"
"So it am," cried Gibault; "p'r'aps it am poudre."
At this moment Big Waller and Bounce gave the keg a violent tug anddisentombed it, an operation which proved Gibault's surmise to be wrong,for the shake showed that the contents were liquid. In a moment theplug was driven in, and Bounce, putting his nose to the hole, inhaledthe result. He drew back with a look of surprise, and said--
"Brandy!"
"Ha! here is one oder ti
ng," cried Gibault, laying hold of a bundle anddragging it to light. "Vat can dis be?"
The question was soon answered; the string was cut, the leathern coverunrolled, and a considerable quantity of tobacco was disclosed to theview of the trappers, whose looks showed pretty clearly that this latterdiscovery was much more agreeable than the former.
After digging deep all round the tree, they came to the conclusion thatthis was all that the _cache_ contained.
"Now," said Bounce, after some talk in reference to their newly-foundtreasure, "wot's to be done with dis here keg o' brandy? As for thebaccy, we'll carry that along with us, of course, an' if MasterRedhand's a liberal feller, we'll help him to smoke it. But the brandykeg's heavy, an' to say truth, I'm not much inclined for it. I neverwos fond o' fire-water."
"If you'd allow me, friends, to suggest," said Bertram, whose experienceamong trappers in other regions had convinced him that spirits was amost undesirable commodity, "I would recommend that you should throwthis brandy away. I never saw good come of it. We do not require itfor health, neither do we for sickness. Let us throw it away, myfriends; it is a dangerous and deceitful foe."
"Mais, monsieur," interposed Gibault with a rueful countenance; "youspeak de trooth; but though hims be dangereux an' ver' bad for drinkoftin, yet ven it be cold vedder, it doo varm de cokils of de hart!"
Big Waller laughed vociferously at this. "I guess Gibault's right,"said he, "it 'ud be a powerful shame to fling it away."
"Well, lads," said Redhand, "it's evident that we can't drink it justnow, for it would unsteady our hands for the work we have to do thisnight. It's also clear we can't carry it with us on a war expedition;so I propose that we should put it where we found it an' come back forit when we've done wi' the redskins."
This plan was finally agreed to; the keg was reburied at the foot of thepoplar, and the party continued their journey, carrying the much-prizedtobacco along with them.
The sun was still blazing above the mountains in the west, tingeingtheir snowy spires with rosy red, when the trappers came upon the firstindication of the neighbourhood of Indians in the shape of recentfootprints and cuttings in the woods. A large canoe was also foundlying bottom up on the bank of the creek. This Redhand examined, andfound it to be in good condition, although, from the marks in thevicinity, it was evident that it had not been recently used.
Men who spend their lives in the backwoods of America are celebrated forthe closeness with which they observe every object and circumstancewhich happens to pass within the range of their perceptions. This habitand acuteness of observation is the result of necessity. The trapperand the Red Indian are alike dependent very much on this faculty fortheir sustenance and for their safety. Surrounded as they are by perilsof every kind, their eyes and ears are constantly on the alert, as theypass through the pathless wilderness on the hunt or on the war trail.No object within the range of vision is passed with indifference.Everything is carefully yet quickly noted--the breaking of a twig, thecrushing of a blade of grass, or the footprint of man or beast. Hencethe backwoodsman acquires the habit of turning all things in his path toaccount, or notes them in case they should, by any possibility, berequired by him at a future time.
Redhand had no definite object in view when, with the assistance ofMarch Marston, he lifted the canoe and placed it in the stream toascertain that it was water-tight, and then replaced it on the bank withthe paddles close beside it. But he had a general idea, founded onexperience, that a good canoe was a useful thing in many supposablecircumstances, and that it was as well to know where such an article wasto be found.
"We shall have to go cautiously now," said he before resuming the march."The Injuns are not far off, as ye may see by yonder thin line o' smokethat rises above the trees on the mountain side. If they are the men weseek, they're sharp as foxes, so we'll have to step like the painter."
Bertram looked up quickly at the last word; then he smiled the nextmoment, as he remembered that the panther was thus styled by trappers.
Proceeding cautiously forward in single file, they at length gained aspot beyond which they could not advance without running the risk ofbeing discovered. Here another halt was made, and here it was agreedthat Redhand should advance alone, near enough to ascertain whether theIndians, whose camp they were approaching, were actually the scamps whohad robbed Bertram of his horses. The old trapper was about to setforward when Bertram stopped him.
"Methinks, old man," said he, "it were well that I should accompany youon this expedition, which I foresee is one of no little danger; and asthe danger is encountered chiefly on my account, it seems to me rightand fitting that I should share it along with you. Besides, two arebetter than one in a struggle, whether mental or physical."
Redhand looked a little perplexed. He did not like to tell the poorartist that he was totally unfit to make a stealthy approach to anIndian camp, yet he felt that the danger of failure would be increasedtenfold if he allowed him to make the attempt; but Bertram pleaded soearnestly, and withal so resolutely, that he at length consented, oncondition of his doing nothing but what he was desired to do, andkeeping as quiet as a mouse. This the artist promised to do, and thetwo accordingly set forth, armed with their knives and the two pistols.Bertram also carried his sword. The rest of the party were to remain inambush until the return of the others.
During the first part of their advance through the wood Bertram trod assoftly and carefully as an Indian, and watched every motion of hiscompanion, who led him down into a ravine which conducted them to withina few hundred yards of the camp. From the absence of such noises as thebarking of dogs and shouts of children, the old trapper conjectured thatthis must be either a party of trappers or a war-party of Indians. Afew minutes' creeping on hands and knees through the underwood broughtthem to a spot whence the camp could be seen, and showed that in thelatter conjecture he was right. The red warriors, forty in number, wereseated in a circle round their watch-fire smoking their tomahawks inmoody silence.
To the eye of Bertram they all seemed to be lost in dreamy reverie, butRedhand observed, with a feeling of anxiety, that he who seemed to betheir chief sat in that peculiar attitude which indicates intenseattention. Laying his hand on Bertram's shoulder, the old man said inthe faintest possible whisper--
"Yonder sits the thief, an't he?"
Bertram at once recognised in the chief of the band before him BigSnake, the Indian who had stolen his horses and property; so he noddedhis head violently, and looked excited, but wisely refrained fromspeech, lest his voice should be overheard.
Redhand shook his head. "The thief," said he in a tone that wasscarcely audible, "has heard us; I see by his face that he suspects hehas heard _something_, and he knows that it was not the falling of aleaf. If we break a twig now we're done for."
Redhand meant this to be a salutary caution to his companion, whichwould ensure a noiseless retreat. To men of his own stamp it would havebeen useful, but he little knew the peculiar temperament of his friend;the mere idea of the success of the whole expedition depending upon hisextreme care unhinged the nerves of the poor artist, who, althoughabsolutely a brave man, in the true sense of the term, could no morecontrol his nervous system than he could perform an Indian war-dance.He could have rushed single-handed on the whole body of warriors withease, but he could not creep among the dry twigs that strewed the groundwithout trembling like an aspen leaf lest he should break one.
It is wonderful, however, what necessity will enable men to do. Bertramdid creep after his friend, back towards the spot where the rest of hisparty lay, as softly and noiselessly as if he had been bred to the workfrom infancy. On regaining the edge of the ravine, they rose andadvanced in a crouching posture. Then Bertram sighed and felt thatimminent danger was over. Alas! that feeling of partial security costhim dear. The step that succeeded the sigh was a careless one. Hisfoot caught in a projecting root, and next moment he went headforemostinto the centre of a decayed bush with a crackling
crash that wasabsolutely appalling in the circumstances.
Redhand cast upon the luckless man one glance of horror, and, utteringthe words, "Run for your life!" dashed down the bank, and coursed alongthe bottom like a hare. At the same moment that terrific yell, whichhas so often chilled the heart's blood of men and women in those westernwilds, rang through the forest, telling that they were discovered, andthat the Indians were in pursuit.
Bertram kept close to the heels of the old trapper at first, but beforehe had run fifty yards he tripped and fell again. On attempting to risehe was seized and thrown violently to the ground by an Indian warrior.Looking back and observing this, Redhand turned at once, like a haredoubling on its course, and rushed to the rescue; but before he reachedhis friend he was surrounded by a dozen yelling Indians. At theforemost of these he levelled his pistol, but the faithless weaponmissed fire, and he was in the act of hurling it at his adversary, whena blow from behind felled him to the ground.
While this was going on, the trappers were bounding to the succour oftheir comrades. When they came to the field of action and saw neitherof their friends (for they had been borne swiftly away), and beheld anoverwhelming band of armed savages rushing towards them, they at onceperceived that strength or courage could avail them nothing in such anunequal conflict; so they turned and fled, scattering themselves amongthe bushes so as to divert pursuit as much as possible.
Bounce and Gibault were the only two who kept together. These made forthe spot where the canoe had been left, but the latter outran the formerso quickly that he was soon lost to view ahead of him. In a few minutesBounce gained the bank of the stream, and seized the end of the canoe.To his amazement Gibault was nowhere to be seen. But he had no time forthought, for at that moment he was discovered by two Indians who rantowards him. The canoe was launched, and a paddle seized in an instant,but the trusty trapper was loath, even in his extremity, to push offwhile his comrade might be in danger.
"Ho! Gibault! Gibault Noir!" he shouted. "Quick, lad; yer too latea'most, ho!"
Grinding his teeth in an agony of anxiety, he made a sudden dart at theforemost Indian, who little dreamed of such an attack, and hit him withthe paddle with all his force. The savage dropped like a stone, and thepaddle flew into a dozen splinters. This was a foolish act on the partof Bounce, for the second Indian was now close upon him, and, seeing thefate of his companion, he stopped short, and hastily fitted an arrow tohis bow. Just then several of the savages burst from the wood withfierce cries. There was no time to lose. Bounce turned, pushed off thecanoe, and leaped in as an arrow grazed his neck.
The bold trapper's condition seemed hopeless; for, having broken thepaddle to pieces, he could not propel his little bark out of danger.The stream was broad and rapid at that place, and swept him awayswiftly. Immediately a shower of arrows fell around him, some grazinghis person and piercing his clothes and the canoe, but fortunately notwounding him.
Meanwhile three of the Indians darted downstream, and, throwingthemselves into the current, swam out so as to intercept the canoe as itpassed. Bounce, having lain down at full length in the bottom of histiny bark to avoid the arrows which were discharged at him, did notobserve these men, and the first intimation he had of what was takingplace was the canoe being nearly upset, as a powerful savage laid holdof the side of it.
To draw his knife and pass it round the wrist of the Indian, so as tosever the tendons, was the work of a moment. The savage fell back witha yell of mingled rage and pain. The others seeing what had occurred,wisely turned and made for the shore. This incident was the means ofsaving the trapper, for the Indians, fearful of wounding their comrade,had ceased to discharge their arrows, and when they again ventured to doso, a tumultuous rapid had caught the canoe, and whirled it nearly overto the opposite shore.
Bounce watched his opportunity. As he swept near to a rocky point, hesprang towards it with all his might. He fell short, but happily thewater did not reach above his knees. Next moment he sprang up the bankand stood on the edge of the underwood, where he paused, and, turninground, shook his clenched fist at his enemies, and uttered a shout ofdefiance.
The disappointed Indians gave vent to a fiendish howl, and discharged acloud of arrows, most of which fell short of their mark. Ere the lastshaft had fallen harmless to the ground, Bounce had entered the forestand was gone.
The Wild Man of the West--by R.M. Ballantyne