The Pioneer Boys of the Missouri; or, In the Country of the Sioux
by St. George Rathborne · English · Gutenberg #46797 · 427,648 chars · public domain (US)
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Title: The Pioneer Boys of the Missouri; or, In the Country of the Sioux
Author: St. George Rathborne
Illustrator: Walter S. Rogers
Release date: September 7, 2014 [eBook #46797]
Most recently updated: October 24, 2024
Language: English
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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE PIONEER BOYS OF THE MISSOURI; OR, IN THE COUNTRY OF THE SIOUX ***
[Transcriber's Note: Bold text is surrounded by =equal signs= and
italic text is surrounded by _underscores_.]
THE PIONEER BOYS OF THE MISSOURI
[Illustration]
OR: IN THE COUNTRY OF THE SIOUX
THE YOUNG PIONEER SERIES
BY HARRISON ADAMS
ILLUSTRATED
[Illustration]
THE PIONEER BOYS OF THE OHIO,
Or: Clearing the Wilderness $1.25
THE PIONEER BOYS ON THE GREAT LAKES,
Or: On the Trail of the Iroquois 1.25
THE PIONEER BOYS OF THE MISSISSIPPI,
Or: The Homestead in the Wilderness 1.25
THE PIONEER BOYS OF THE MISSOURI,
Or: In the Country of the Sioux 1.25
_Other Volumes in Preparation_
[Illustration]
THE PAGE COMPANY
53 Beacon Street, Boston, Mass.
[Illustration: "A SQUAW DARTED FORWARD, . . . AND, SEIZING HOLD OF
ROGER, LOOKED EAGERLY IN HIS FACE."
_See page 335._]
The Young Pioneer Series
THE PIONEER BOYS OF THE MISSOURI OR: IN THE COUNTRY OF THE SIOUX
By HARRISON ADAMS
Author of "The Pioneer Boys of the Ohio," "The Pioneer Boys
on the Great Lakes," "The Pioneer Boys of the
Mississippi," etc.
[Illustration]
Illustrated by
WALTER S. ROGERS
THE PAGE COMPANY
BOSTON [Illustration] MDCCCCXIV
[Illustration]
_Copyright, 1914, by_
THE PAGE COMPANY
_All rights reserved_
First Impression, April, 1914
THE COLONIAL PRESS
C. H. SIMONDS CO.
BOSTON, U. S. A.
PREFACE
MY DEAR BOYS:--It is with great pleasure that I have responded to my
publisher's appeal for a new volume in connection with boy pioneer life
during those early days in the history of our country when brave men,
and women also, kept pushing the frontier line constantly westward,
toward the setting sun.
Since Bob and Sandy Armstrong came to the end of their migrations when
they settled on the land purchased by old David, near the junction of
the Missouri River with the mighty Mississippi, it is obvious that
little that is new could be written concerning those old friends of
ours.
But as it happened that they founded families of their own, and each
had a son who was said to be a "chip of the old block," the story of
young pioneer achievements can best be continued by transferring our
allegiance to these two sturdy lads, Dick and Roger, whom, I feel sure,
you will like fully as well as you did their fathers.
Just at the time when they had become strapping lads, ready to place
full confidence in their ability to take care of themselves, it
chanced that a wonderful opportunity came to them, whereby they were
enabled to traverse the course of the great Missouri River from its
mouth to its far-away source among the Rocky Mountains.
What this opportunity was like, and what astonishing things they met
with on the long and dangerous journey, I have endeavored to describe
and set down between the covers of this present book. I trust that you
will enjoy reading it fully as well as you did the preceding volumes;
and that at some date in the near future we may meet again in the pages
of still another story of boy pioneer life.
HARRISON ADAMS.
_April 15th, 1914._
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
PREFACE v
I. TWO BOYS IN A DUGOUT CANOE 1
II. THE HOLLOW TREE REFUGE 15
III. A SHADOW OVER THE HOMESTEAD 27
IV. THE CABIN OF BOB ARMSTRONG 38
V. A GRAND PALAVER 48
VI. BAD NEWS 58
VII. OFF ON THE GREAT JOURNEY 68
VIII. THE TRACK OF THE MARKED HOOF 76
IX. ALONG THE BANK OF THE MISSOURI 86
X. THE TWANG OF A BOWSTRING 98
XI. "ALL, OR NONE!" 110
XII. THE HIDDEN CAMP 122
XIII. ON THE BILLOWY PRAIRIE 134
XIV. THE BUFFALO STAMPEDE 148
XV. SAFE IN THE TIMBER 158
XVI. THE PERILS OF THE WILDERNESS 169
XVII. A CLOSE CALL 181
XVIII. BROUGHT TO BAY BY THE WOLF PACK 195
XIX. THE LOST RIVER 207
XX. CASTING BREAD UPON THE WATERS 217
XXI. THE PICTURE WRITING ON THE BARK 227
XXII. CAUGHT IN A RIVER TRAP 237
XXIII. THE RISING WATERS 247
XXIV. A BITTER DISAPPOINTMENT 257
XXV. THE VILLAGE OF THE MANDANS 270
XXVI. STRANGE SIGHTS 286
XXVII. AT THE SALT-LICK 299
XXVIII. RUNNING ELK, THE SIOUX CHIEF 311
XXIX. A DESPERATE SITUATION 328
XXX. THE DAWN BREAKS--CONCLUSION 337
NOTES 351
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
PAGE
"A SQUAW DARTED FORWARD, . . . AND, SEIZING HOLD
OF ROGER, LOOKED EAGERLY IN HIS FACE"
(_See page 335_) _Frontispiece_
"ONCE EVEN DICK'S BEST WORK COULD NOT PREVENT THE
DUGOUT FROM TURNING PARTLY, SO AS TO EXPOSE
A SIDE TO THE WIND" 39
"AT THE EDGE OF THE WOODS THEY STOPPED THEIR
HORSES, AND TURNED IN THE SADDLE TO WAVE
A FAREWELL" 74
"WHEN THE THUNDER STOPPED BOOMING FOR A FEW SECONDS
THEY COULD HEAR THE ROAR OF THOSE COUNTLESS
HOOFS BEHIND THEM" 155
"WITH THE SHARP CRASH OF THE GUN THE GREAT GRAY
BODY OF THE CROUCHING BEAST FLEW UPWARD" 217
"CAPTAIN LEWIS AND CAPTAIN CLARK . . . WERE PLEASED
TO WELCOME DICK AND ROGER" 264
[Illustration]
The Pioneer Boys of the Missouri
CHAPTER I
TWO BOYS IN A DUGOUT CANOE
"WE are on the worse side of the river, Cousin Roger, if a storm
breaks!"
"That is true, Dick; but it may not come down on us for hours yet; and
the fish are taking hold finely now."
"Yes, and no one likes to pull them in better than I do; but it
seems to me we already have enough in the dugout to supply the whole
Armstrong settlement."
"Then mother can send some down to the Cragans in the St. Louis
settlement; for they are old, and Mr. Cragan seldom goes out on the
Missouri nowadays. Just wait a little longer, Dick. Oh! what a tug that
was! Why, they keep getting bigger all the while. Look, the finest
buffalo fish we've taken this afternoon, Dick! Did you ever see such
a savage fighter? It makes my arms ache to drag him in against this
current."
"Mine have been feeling sore for a long time, now; but, when you get
fishing, Roger, you never do know when to stop. Well, I'll give in
again, and stay a little longer, though I think we are taking big
chances with that storm. But you must put a limit on the fish to be
taken. When we have three more, no matter whether they are large or
small, we'll wind up our lines and cross the river."
"Make it five, Dick, please; that's only a little thing when the fish
are biting as they are now."
"Just as you say, Roger; but not another one, no matter what happens."
"Oh! I always keep my word, even if they do call me Headstrong Roger,
just as my father, Sandy Armstrong, was before me. Five it shall be,
Dick; and see! that can take only a little while; because I've hooked
one before my line was more than half-way out. And see him fight, will
you? This is the best fishing we've had this year. It makes me think
of the great times our fathers used to have, away up on the Ohio,
where they built their first log cabin, before Grandfather Armstrong
emigrated to the new Mississippi country."
For several minutes talkative Roger had to devote all his attention to
pulling in the large captive that struggled at the end of his line;
and, as his cousin also felt a savage tug about the same time, both
were busily engaged.
We may take advantage of their occupation for a brief time to explain
just who were the two lads, thus engaged upon the rolling current of
the great Missouri River, far back in the summer of the year 1804, when
English speaking people were few and far between in this new region,
but recently acquired by the United States. (Note 1.)[1]
Years before the grandparents of these lads had left Virginia at the
solicitation of the great hunter and backwoodsman, Daniel Boone, who
had discovered the richness of the Kentucky country, and was trying to
induce settlers to occupy it, despite the savage Indians who resisted
their advance.
They had settled on the Ohio, and, with other hardy souls, started
to develop homes in the wilderness; and here the two sons of David
Armstrong, Bob and Sandy, met with many strange adventures that have
been narrated in the first volume of this series.[2]
Later on, a terrible flood, such as the Ohio valley had never before
known at that early day, when its banks were lined with primeval
forests, had swept the cabins of many of the settlers away, and so
discouraged them that a party decided to build a floating house on a
raft, and go further down the river, looking for new homesteads in the
wilderness, this time in the valley of the mighty Mississippi.
This houseboat had managed to run the gauntlet of all sorts of perils
from hostile Shawanees and jealous French trappers, who resented the
invasion of what they believed to be their territory by the daring
English settlers.
In the end the mighty Mississippi had been reached, and at first the
Armstrongs had tried to establish their new home below the junction
of the two rivers. It was, however, just before the breaking out of
the Revolutionary War, when, over the entire country, settlers were
taking sides, either in favor of the colonists or the king; and, as
fortune would have it, the sentiment in the little community around the
Armstrongs seemed to be so saturated with what they called "loyalty"
to the far-distant sovereign that by degrees things became utterly
unbearable to old David and his stalwart sons.
Conditions had altered so much that in these dark days the French, who
had all along been looked upon as enemies, now became warm friends of
the colonists. This came about not so much through change of sentiment
on the part of the French as a desire to strike back at King George
by lending assistance to his rebellious colonies; but, whatever might
be the reason, the Armstrongs were content to accept the new order of
things, and make the best of them.
Accordingly old David went away prospecting, and later on returned with
wonderful accounts of the splendid opening that awaited those who would
settle down close to the new and enterprising border trading post,
which had been named St. Louis in honor of the French king.
In the end they had once more "pulled up stakes," though it was not so
hard to do so this time, as they had not become greatly attached to
the home on the shore of the Mississippi, or their intensely patriotic
neighbors, who delighted to annoy them because they favored the cause
of Washington and his "rebels," as the Continental army was called at
that time.
In their new location near St. Louis the Armstrongs had labored hard to
make a permanent home. As the years slipped past, the boys had grown
to young manhood; and presently the older brother, Bob, married the
daughter of another settler on an adjoining farm, one Nancy Adams.
In due time a second cabin was constructed, to which Bob took his young
wife; and just a year later Sandy followed his example, marrying the
young school teacher, Phoebe Shay, and also erecting a home of his own;
so that there was now quite a little settlement of the Armstrongs, with
old David as the head of the family.
As the months and years passed children came who called David
grandfather; Bob had two boys named Dick and Sam; while Sandy rejoiced
in the possession of a sturdy lad, Roger, and a sweet girl who was
named Mary, after her Grandmother Armstrong.
When David obtained the tract of land upon which he settled, and which
was just outside the limits of St. Louis, he believed that he had done
all that was necessary to secure his title to the same. And, as he
watched the adjoining settlement augment in size as the years passed
on, Mr. Armstrong congratulated himself on having laid a foundation for
his family that would bear much valuable fruit in course of time.
The King of France had given this whole tract to certain Frenchmen in
consideration of services which they had rendered the Crown; and in
turn they had passed portions over to new arrivals as the result of
bargains that were struck between them.
But, as frequently happens, there was always a possibility that,
in times to come, a missing link might be discovered in the title,
calculated to bring about trouble for the possessors.
Here amidst these pleasant surroundings the children of the Armstrong
brothers grew up, and began to take their places in the little
community of which they were destined to form important units.
As the boys grew older they naturally took to the same things that had
been of such prime importance in the lives of their fathers. Hunting
and fishing were of the utmost necessity to these early pioneers,
since only by such means were they enabled to provide for many of the
family wants. Indeed, but for the bounty of Nature in supplying such
vast quantities of game, the task of settling the waste places of our
country would have been a much more difficult one than was the case.
Of course, as their two sons grew tall and more manly, Bob and Sandy
Armstrong went less and less into the forest, and out upon the waters,
contenting themselves with an occasional hunt in the season of laying
in "pemmican," as the dried venison and buffalo meat of the Indians was
called, for the winter's store. They had plenty to do in developing
their farms, for the work in those days was much more exacting than in
recent years, when so many labor-saving farm implements are used.
Those who have read the earlier volumes in this series of pioneer books
can easily understand that if the two lads, Dick and Roger, resembled
their fathers as much as people said, they were a pair of resolute
young fellows when, at about the age of fifteen, we make their
acquaintance.
Dick was steady-going, though he could be as quick as a flash should
the necessity require. He was more apt to deliberate, and do the right
thing, than his younger cousin, Roger, who had inherited his father's,
Sandy Armstrong's, impetuous nature, and was inclined to be a little
reckless.
Both were good-hearted, manly boys, and blessings to their parents.
They had early in life learned many of the secrets of woodcraft as
known to those hardy, early pioneers, and could read the signs of the
trail as well as most old trappers, accustomed to spending their lives
in the wilderness, where danger lurked back of every falling leaf, with
hostile Indians, and revengeful French trappers, hovering around.
The English were numerous at the St. Louis settlement, and had,
moreover, taken such good measures to fortify the post that no
successful foray was ever engineered by the allied tribes of the West
looking to its reduction. And as a certain wampum belt, presented to
the Armstrong boys by the great sachem, Pontiac, for valuable services
which they had rendered to him,[3] still seemed to possess a potent
power over the Sacs, Pottawatomies, Foxes, and other tribes of Indians,
the little settlement above St. Louis, on the Missouri, had never once
been molested by the redskins, though other places had been attacked
from year to year.
It was at this time, with spring only lately passed, that we find the
cousins out upon the Missouri, enjoying their favorite occupation, and
having such great sport that Roger could hardly be convinced that they
should give up the fishing if they hoped to cross the wide river, and
reach home, before the threatening storm broke.
It had promised rain nearly all day, which had been a rather hot, muggy
one; but, as it seemed to be the finest fishing day they had enjoyed
all season, both boys had taken chances in coming out. There were times
when the stock of provisions ran rather low at home, since the crops
were only getting their early summer growth, and fresh fish would
always be acceptable among the Armstrongs.
Roger had so much trouble with his latest capture that Dick brought
his to the boat before his cousin could. Perhaps this was because he
went about his task with deliberation; while the other lad, in his
eagerness, allowed the heavy fish to drag the line out several times,
on account of not being prepared for his sudden rushes.
This fact is only mentioned in a casual way to let the reader
understand thus early in the story what the different natures of our
two heroes were; for doubtless there will occur many instances when
these leading characteristics must stand out most prominently.
"That makes two of the five, Dick!" gasped Roger, as he managed to
unhook his capture, and, after once more baiting his stout hook, cast
it far out into the rolling stream for a fresh trial.
"Yes," replied the other, who had already allowed his own line to run
out to its full limit; "and, if they keep on taking hold as they have
been doing, we'll soon have the other three in the dugout. But you
never can tell with fish. They stop biting all of a sudden, and nothing
you can do will tempt them to start in again."
"There comes another big one, Dick! Oh! isn't it too mean, he just
gave a terrible plunge, and broke away. That's bad luck, I'm afraid,"
exclaimed the younger of the fishers, in a disappointed tone.
"And I suppose he was the biggest of the whole lot?" the other remarked
with a laugh.
"There, something's at my bait again!" ejaculated Roger, eagerly.
"Don't I hope he swallows it, hook and all!"
He braced himself for the tug, having learned what tremendous pullers
these so-called buffalo fish of the rivers could be, when they had the
whole force of the current back of their efforts. A few seconds later
his line gave a sudden jerk.
"Hurrah! I've got my second one, and that makes three!" he whooped
gleefully, as he started to pull in hand over hand, for they were not
fishing with poles, and such things as reels were unknown among the
early settlers of the West.
Half way did Roger drag his expected prize in, when he uttered a dismal
cry.
"He's gone, Dick, worse luck!" he exclaimed in a disappointed tone.
"Perhaps there's something wrong with the barb of my hook, they seem to
get off so easy of late; I'd better be looking after it. Anyhow, the
bait must be gone, and I never yet caught a fish with a bare hook.
Hope you have better luck with yours," as Dick started pulling his line
in, with something that wriggled tremendously at the other end.
"All of which," remarked the other boy, with a smile, "goes to show
that, as Grandfather Armstrong says, it's poor policy to count your
chickens before they're hatched; and a fish on the hook isn't always a
fish in the boat. Look what I've caught!"
"An eel, and a big one at that!" exclaimed Roger, looking up from
examining the point of his hook, which he found to be in excellent
condition after all, so that the fault, if any there was, did not lie
there, but possibly in his manner of giving the wriggling fish too
much slack line. "Better knock him on the head before you take him in,
because a slippery customer like that will soon own the whole boat, and
drive us over the side, if he gets to whipping around."
This was good advice, as Dick well knew, and, picking up a billet
of wood which they used to dispatch their fish in a humane way when
caught, he finally succeeded in killing the large fresh-water eel.
But, somehow, that seemed to put an end to the fishing, for, although
they tried the most tempting bait, they did not get another nibble.
Even the big yellow catfish, for which the Missouri has always been
famous, some of them running up to sixty pounds, declined to bite.
Dick grew anxious at the delay, and several times hinted to his cousin
that it would be the part of wisdom for them to give up, even though
they still lacked three fish. But it was a difficult task to drag Roger
from anything he had set out to do, and he kept reminding the other
that they had set a limit of five fish, and that the fish were apt
to take hold again at any minute; he was sure he had felt a cautious
nibble at his bait just then, and, given another chance, they could
easily haul in three more, big or little, it mattered not.
Suddenly a gust of wind came sweeping across the river, and made the
dugout rock violently. Looking up, the boys saw that already the breeze
was whipping the surface of the Missouri into whitecaps, as the squall
rushed across.
"We've waited too long, Roger, you see!" declared Dick, calmly; "and
now we've got to find some sort of shelter from the storm, on this side
of the river!"
FOOTNOTES:
[1] The notes will be found at the end of the book.
[2] See "The Pioneer Boys of the Ohio."
[3] See "The Pioneer Boys on the Great Lakes."
CHAPTER II
THE HOLLOW TREE REFUGE
"ALL my fault, Dick!" said Roger, as they hastened to pull in their
lines, and then get the rude anchor up, for their position was an
exposed one, with that furious wind sweeping all the way from the other
shore of the wide river.
"Don't say anything about it, Roger; what we want to do now is to get
to work, and use the paddles. Quick! or we'll be blown over, with the
side of our boat exposed to that rush of wind!"
They worked with all their power to get the rough dugout headed for the
shore in time to have the wind behind them, for they had been fishing
some distance from the wooded bank. The boat had been fashioned from a
selected log by the boys themselves, and was as good a specimen of its
kind as any of the settlers owned; but at the best such a craft is apt
to prove clumsy at a time when quick action is required.
As a result the wind struck them before they were quite prepared, and
for a moment it looked as though the frail craft would be capsized,
so violently was it tossed by the gusts, as well as by the turbulent
waters.
"Dip deep, Roger!" shouted Dick, compelled to raise his voice on
account of the roar of the wind, which sounded as though a million
bumblebees had swarmed around their heads.
They bent themselves to the task, and put all their energies into
keeping the dugout from upsetting. Perhaps the wind was merciful, too,
and relaxed its violence a trifle, but, be that as it may, the two
lads succeeded in accomplishing the feat of turning the boat head on
toward the shore, and with only a few strokes of the paddles they found
themselves driven violently against the high bank, against which the
waves were already breaking.
"Just below, there's a little bight, where the boat can hold out
against it, if only we can get her there!" Dick called aloud; for he
had noticed all these things while fishing, perhaps with an eye to
future use should necessity compel them to seek a haven of refuge.
"Together, then, Dick, fend off, and let her float down a little!"
cried Roger, ready to jump overboard if necessary in order to save the
boat, together with the fine catch of fish, from being turned over by
the waves.
But the distance was very short, and so sturdily did the two boys labor
that in the end they were able to push their craft around a high point
of rock that jutted out from the shore, and find a haven just behind,
in which the boat might weather the storm in safety.
But, from the appearance of the darkened sky across the river, it was
evident that they might expect a heavy downpour of rain shortly; and,
if they hoped to escape getting soaked, they had better go ashore
without delay, and seek some sort of shelter.
"Will our fish be safe here, do you think?" asked Roger, loth to leave
their prizes unguarded in the boat.
"Oh! I guess so; but come along, we can't stay here. Pick up your gun
and let's look for a couple of hollow trees, or a fallen one that will
shelter us beneath its roots. Hurry, Roger, it'll soon be on us!"
They had quickly tied the painter of the dugout canoe and, with one
last anxious look at the fish, Roger scrambled up the bank at the heels
of his cousin.
The guns the boys carried were, of course, the long-barreled rifles
of the times, equipped with a flint lock and powder-pan. Although
such weapons may excite more or less amusement in these days of the
repeating rifle, and the hammerless shotgun, still those men of the old
border, with their steady hands and hawk-like vision, were capable of
doing marvelous execution with them. And as boys learned how to shoot
before they were as tall as the guns owned by their sires, it can be
readily understood that both the Armstrong lads were splendid marksmen.
The woods along the banks of the Missouri in those days were untouched
by the axe of the backwoodsman, and must have been a sight, indeed,
with many of the trees three or more feet through the butt.
Here and there one of these forest monarchs had been felled by some
hurricane that had swept through the region in years that were past;
and it was in the direction of these that the boys cast eager glances
in the hope of finding a shelter from the downpour that threatened.
Right and left they glanced, missing nothing with those keen eyes, now
put to their best efforts, since a necessity for a haven had arisen,
if they hoped to avoid being soaked to the skin. And, as they both
were dressed in tanned buckskin garments, fashioned after the manner
customary with the hunters of that early day, with fringe and colored
porcupine quills adorning both trousers and tunic, the task of drying
their clothes was one that would take more or less time.
It seemed but a few minutes before a shout from Roger announced a happy
discovery.
"Oh! look, there's the very place for us, if we can climb the tree and
crawl in at that opening, Dick! On my word I believe that's the biggest
hollow tree I ever ran across, and I've seen a few. Shall we try it?"
Cautious Dick glanced once more around him; but apparently could see no
other opportunity to get away from the threatening deluge.
"All right, then, we'll have to chance it!" he replied, as he started
for the big tree.
Roger did not understand what these words meant until they had come
to the wide trunk of the oak and he discovered many scratches there,
indicating that some wild animal must have its sleeping quarters in the
hollow above.
"A bear's den, Dick!" he ejaculated, looking at his companion
doubtfully.
"Yes, I guessed as much," answered the other, "when I saw tracks over
yonder. But let's hope the old fellow happens to be away just now. I
wouldn't take the risk did not those black clouds look so threatening."
"Shall we climb up, then?" asked the other, ready to accept any risk,
in his headstrong way.
"Yes, come on, Roger; but keep your gun ready for business," replied
Dick.
It was always a matter of some concern to the early pioneers, this
keeping their rifles or muskets in condition for immediate use. The
powder was apt to be shaken from the pan, or the flint in the hammer
dislodged just enough to keep it from striking fairly, and sending out
the important spark, which was absolutely necessary in order that the
weapon be discharged. And hence, under the most intense excitement,
hunters were wont to keep a watchful eye upon their guns in order that
they might not fail.
Both boys scrambled up the tree. The limbs were low, and fashioned just
right for a quick ascent, and, as the hole which had caught the eye of
Roger was not more than twenty feet from the ground, they were beside
it in an exceedingly short space of time.
But it might be noticed that neither seemed in any great haste to enter
the gaping aperture that frowned so darkly before them. They could
easily tell that it was a bear's den from the odor that greeted them,
such as may always be detected where wild animals have their lodging;
but even stout-hearted Roger would have braved the wrath of the coming
deluge rather than drop down upon a savage bear.
"Do you think he's in, right now, Dick?" he questioned.
"I don't know. You see there was no time to examine the tracks below,
and see whether the last ones headed in, or out. But we'll soon learn
that. Fire your gun as straight down into the stump as you can, Roger;
while I keep mine ready to give him a shot if he comes out."
"A good idea, Dick; and here goes!"
Roger pushed his long rifle into the hole as well as he could, and,
aiming downward, pulled the trigger. The roar that followed was
terrific in that confined space, and Roger hastily dragged his gun out,
preparing to reload. He had in his early years been taught the first
principle among hunters, that an empty gun is worse than none at all.
Dick was waiting, ready to send a bullet into the head of Bruin, did
he but make his appearance; but, as nothing followed the report of
his cousin's rifle, he bent forward to look once more into the black
aperture.
"Not at home, is he, Dick; or do you think I could have been lucky
enough to have killed him by a chance shot?" demanded Roger, hopefully.
"Oh! no danger of that," replied the other, laughingly. "It's an empty
den that we've run across, and the sooner we crawl inside the better."
"Yes," said Roger, "I felt a big splash of rain on my face then. But
how far down do you think the hole goes, Dick? I hope not all the way
to the roots of the old tree. How could we climb up again; and what a
tumble it would be if we let go and dropped."
For answer Dick dropped a piece of heavy bark into the opening, and
bent his ear in an endeavor to tell from the sound just about how far
it had to fall.
"I think it's all right, Roger," he said; "but to make sure I'm going
to tie to this branch this piece of rope that I brought with me, and
lower it inside. Then we can always have something to pull ourselves up
with."
"It takes you to think up such things," was the comment of the other
boy, who greatly admired his cousin's thoughtfulness, though seldom
able to shine in that same respect himself.
Giving his gun in charge of Roger while he worked, the older lad
quickly tied one end of his piece of rope to the limb alongside the
opening.
"Now we can climb in, and none too soon, for there comes the rain with
a whoop that sounds like an Indian attack!" he remarked.
Dick would have gone first, but it would never do for headstrong Roger
to allow any one to precede him, when there was an atom of danger to
face. So he swung in, and blocked the passage of the other, though with
a good-natured laugh.
He had shifted his rifle to his back by means of the strap that was
attached to it for that very purpose. This allowed him to have both
hands free. Having dropped down so that he was hanging from the rim of
the opening, Roger failed to touch the bottom with his dangling feet.
"I don't seem to make it, Dick," he called out; "but now I'm going to
try the rope. Hurrah! here's the bottom at last; and I judge that it's
only about eight feet or so below the opening. Coming down, now?"
"Yes, because here's the rain pouring down; keep out of the way,
Roger," with which remark the older boy started down.
He found no difficulty in landing beside his cousin. The big tree was
hollow half-way down to its roots, so that hardly more than a mere
shell of the outside remained.
"Listen to it come down, Dick!" exclaimed the younger lad, presently.
"Sounds as if the clouds had broken above, and meant to put the river
up to the flood stage again, after it had started to go down. And the
wind blows pretty hard, too. I hope, now, it doesn't knock this old oak
over, and give us heaps of trouble. Wasn't that thunder I heard? What
if lightning should strike here? Perhaps we were foolish to try so hard
to escape a ducking, Dick. There may be some things worse than a wet
jacket, it seems to me."
"That's right, Roger, and I'm glad you look at it that way; but we're
in here now, and perhaps we'd better stay, and take our chances. Such
a storm will soon be over; and, when the wind goes down some, we can
paddle across the Missouri without running the risk of a bad spill. We
promised mother not to take too many chances, because she dreads the
water, after losing her brother the way she did in the drifting ice
three years ago this spring."
The wind howled dismally around them, and the rain beat heavily against
the thin shell of the tree, so that at times it creaked and groaned in
a way that excited the fears of Roger anew, for he thought it might be
about to give up its long fight, and yield to the storm's fury.
But Dick kept his courage up by words of good cheer.
"Already I think the worst is over," he returned. "It seems to me the
noise does not come quite so heavily; and yes, when you look up, Roger,
you can even see light at the opening, something that I couldn't do
before. We'll have to wait here a little while, and then we can crawl
out to hunt up our boat, and start for the settlement on the other
shore."
Roger naturally twisted his neck in order to see the glad sight of
daylight above; but immediately gave expression to a cry.
"What is it?" asked Dick, knowing from the tone of his cousin's
exclamation that he had seen something that meant new trouble for them.
"The bear, Dick!" gasped the other boy.
"What about him?" demanded Dick; but doubtless he was able to make a
pretty good guess concerning the nature of the discovery.
"He just stuck his snout into the hole as if he smelled us; and look
there, will you? All the light is shut out! Dick, what shall we do? For
I believe the bear is starting to back down inside the tree!"
CHAPTER III
A SHADOW OVER THE HOMESTEAD
THERE was no such thing as catching Dick unprepared. No doubt he had
before now considered just what should be done in such an emergency.
Even while the excited Roger was speaking, Dick had acted. Of course
the only thing that could be done in order to give the descending bear
a fright was to fire a shot into his hindquarters at close range. No
bear could stand that, Dick felt certain. The only thing that gave the
boy cause for concern was that the animal might have pushed into the
opening so far that, in his alarm, he would lose his grip above, and
come down upon them, crushing both under his weight.
The report of Dick's rifle sounded like a peal of thunder. There was a
tremendous clawing noise above, and, for a brief interval, Dick's heart
was in his throat.
Then the clawing ceased inside the hollow tree, and, at the same time,
Roger's voice rang out.
"He's climbed out in a bigger hurry than he came in, Dick! You gave
him a pain that time. He must think hornets have built a nest in his
old den, and you won't get that smart bear coming back here in a hurry
again. There, I heard him strike the ground! Perhaps you hit him harder
than you meant to, Dick, and we might get him for the larder, if we
wanted!"
"Not much chance of that when I had only his hindquarters to shoot
into," the other declared; "but, all the same, he's skipped out, and
taken to the woods. What's a little rain to a furry coat like his,
after sleeping all winter? But one thing is sure, Roger, the rain is
slackening up."
"Yes," added the other, "and the wind, too; for it doesn't howl as it
did. But, let me tell you, I'm glad that thunder doesn't growl so much
now. When that loud crash came I got a bad scare, because I thought how
lightning likes to pick out a big oak like this, and splinter it from
top to bottom."
"You wouldn't have known what hurt you, if it had struck this tree; and
there's a little satisfaction in that, Roger. But, when I get my gun
loaded, I mean to climb up, and take an observation."
"How lucky that we've got that rope to help out," remarked Roger; "for
the inside of this old tree feels as smooth as anything, because the
bear has clawed his way up and down so many times. We would have had a
hard job getting up, only for that."
"Oh! there are ways, if you only bother thinking them out," observed
the other boy. "With two of us down here, one could climb on the
shoulders of the other and, after he got out, help his comrade with his
hands. Oh! you're off, are you? I wondered if you would wait, and let
me go first for a change. But, now that you're half-way up, keep right
on, and tell me how things look to you. Be careful how you poke your
head out, because, after all, the bear might be waiting for us."
Roger had little difficulty in reaching the opening. He was so nimble
that he could climb any tree like a monkey; but, remembering the
warning of his cousin, he tried to take an observation before thrusting
his head out.
"All clear, here, Dick!" he called, joyfully; "you gave him a scare,
let me tell you--chances are he's running yet. And better still, the
clouds have broken across the river, for, would you believe it, the
sun's peeping out! Better come up, as the rain's stopped now."
That was good news for the boy in the hollow tree, and he lost no time
in following his companion. Presently both were perched upon the wet
limbs, looking around.
"You wounded the bear, Dick, for, see, here are blood marks on the
bark," cried Roger, pointing as he spoke.
"Which I am sorry for," was the reply, "because I never like to hurt an
animal unless I want him for food. And we couldn't think of trying to
follow the trail of the bear at this late hour. Mother might be worried
if we didn't come home by dark, after such a sudden storm. So let's
head back to the boat, and, if the waves have gone down enough, we'll
push out for the other bank."
"Whew! did you ever see such big bear tracks, Dick?" exclaimed Roger,
as he bent down to examine the imprints. "The chances are, now, we'll
never set eyes on anything to beat that in all our lives again;" but,
when the boy made that statement, and believed what he was saying, too,
he could not possibly foresee the time when he and his cousin would
look upon the distant Rocky Mountains, just then almost unknown to
white men, and view that greatest of all bears, the terrible grizzly of
the foothills. Yet that experience was before them, and nearer than any
one could dream.
"Come on, we had better be in a hurry, Roger," the other called out;
"because already it is getting pretty close to sunset, and with so many
clouds overhead, darkness is apt to come along soon afterwards. And you
know it isn't safe upon the big river after night sets in."
They were quickly at the little cove where the dugout had been left,
and, much to their satisfaction, they found everything all right.
"I'm glad that bear didn't get a scent of our fish while he was
hurrying home," Dick remarked.
"That's so," the other boy added, "because we happen to know how hungry
they are for fish, lots of times. Didn't we see one scoop a fish out
with his paw, once, as he squatted on a log that ran down into the
water? But are we going to risk it out there on the river just yet,
Dick?"
"It looks pretty rough, I declare; but the waves are going down every
minute, so we had better wait a while. Given half an hour, and we
ought to be able to cross. The longer we can hold off, the easier our
passage will be."
"I suppose it's no use throwing out a line again?" mused Roger, whose
passion for fishing could never be wholly satisfied.
"Not after such a heavy rain, and with the river rising as it is,
Roger. You know enough about fish to remember that they never bite
after a rain that washes all sorts of feed into the river, and muddies
the water so. Here, we can sit down on this rock, and talk a little."
"Yes, and Dick, I know that you have something on your mind that's been
worrying you all day. More than once I've come near asking what ailed
you, and then I held my tongue for fear I might offend. And at our
house I notice that father and mother seem worried, too, for they often
stop talking when I come in, and look confused, as if they didn't want
me to know what was wrong. Now, if you know, tell me. We're pretty well
grown, and ought to take some of the burdens on our shoulders, it seems
to me."
"Well spoken, Roger, and shake hands with me on that!" exclaimed the
older lad, while his sober face lighted up with a mingling of regard
for his cousin, and delight over hearing these words spring from his
heart. "Yes, you are right, we _are_ old enough to be taken into the
councils of our parents; and my father has thought the same, for he
told me the nature of the gloom that seems to be hanging over the whole
little Armstrong settlement of late."
"And will you tell me, Dick?" demanded the other, eagerly, while a
look akin to resolution flashed over his handsome face. Roger was his
father in his younger years over again; a real "chip of the old block,"
gentle-hearted, brave, and with only the fault of recklessness to mar
his good record.
Sandy Armstrong in early life had taken as his model that sterling
young borderer known in the history of the "dark and bloody ground,"
Kentucky, as Daniel Boone's most beloved helper, Simon Kenton; and, as
their natures were very much alike, the reason for his admiration had
always been very evident.
"Yes," Dick went on to say, bravely, "because my father said he thought
both of us should know; not that he had any idea we could do anything
to help; but, if the blow fell, we might be better prepared to stand
it."
"Blow fell!" repeated the other, in sheer astonishment, while his ruddy
face lost a little of its color; "why, what can you mean, Dick? Are
the Indians going on the warpath; or has that precious wampum belt been
lost again, as father told me once happened when he was a boy?"[4]
"No, it is nothing like that, Roger," replied the other. "It concerns
the title to the property our parents bought years ago, and which has
been our home all of our lives, up to now."
"Why, you surprise me, Dick! They bought it, I have heard, from the
French traders who owned the section across the river, the pick of the
land above the St. Louis settlement."
"Yes, that is a fact, Roger; but it seems that there is some sort of
defect in the title, and an old French trader, François Lascelles by
name, with his grown son, Alexis, has threatened to turn us out of our
homes by the first of next year, unless we make a new settlement with
him, and purchase the ground for a second time. It seems, however, that
there is just one way by which the land may be saved."
"Oh! I am glad to hear that; and if there is anything that I can do,
only tell me, and see how quickly I will do it. But it would nearly
kill my mother to lose the farm now, because she loves the place so
much. Now, tell me what that one thing is."
"Listen. It seems that there is a man whose signature to certain
papers is necessary in order to keep this rascal of a Frenchman from
seizing the property by the first of next year. His name is Jasper
Williams, and he is a hunter and scout very much like Daniel Boone, the
friend of our parents. Both your father and mine have been to great
trouble trying to locate this man, and, Roger, think of the bitter
disappointment that overwhelmed them upon discovering a few days ago
that he is far away in the unknown West, but expects to join the Lewis
and Clark exploration party that started out many weeks ago, bound
to cross prairies and mountains, and rivers and lakes if necessary,
until they finally set eyes on the Pacific Ocean, which we know lies
hundreds, perhaps thousands, of miles away from the Mississippi."
Roger shook his head, as if overwhelmed with sadness.
"Why, they may not be back again for two years, even if they escape
the thousand and one perils they must encounter from wild beasts,
hostile Sioux and Blackfeet Indians, snow pitfalls in the mountains,
starvation on the deserts, and all sorts of other things. Oh! Dick,
what a cruel thing this is. And it could all be changed, you say, if
only that one man's signature might be obtained to a certain paper?"
"Yes, so father tells me. And, Roger, do you know what I have been
thinking of all this day, while we sat, and fished, and watched the
coming of the storm?"
His impulsive cousin glanced up at him quickly, an eager glow in his
eyes and a set look on his young face.
"Dick, were you thinking that _we_ might start out, and try to overtake
that expedition which President Jefferson has sent to see what our new
territory between the river and the ocean is like? (Note 2.) Tell me,
would such an idea ever enter the head of so cautious a fellow as Dick
Armstrong when it might seem to be only fit for a madcap like myself?"
"Ah! yes! but, Roger, think what the signing of that paper would mean
to all those we love! Remember that, unless something is done, we may
lose our homes before another spring, and our parents must start all
over again. And, if you stop and think, did not our fathers once make
almost as dangerous a journey into the unknown country of the Iroquois
Indians, at the time our Aunt Kate, their sister, was stolen by a young
chief?"
"Yes, yes, every word you say is true, Dick; but the daring of it all
staggers me. Do not think for a second that I will hold back, if only
we can gain the consent of our parents to making the trial. Think of
starting out into that wonderful unknown wilderness, where white men
have never until now placed a foot, following in the track of Captain
Lewis and Captain Clark, with their little band of soldiers and scouts,
not more than forty souls, all told. Oh! let us get back across the
river right away, Dick, because I want to beg my father to let me go;
and get grandfather to back us up, for he says we are chips of the old
blocks, and able to hold our own anywhere."
"Well, the wind has fallen enough, I think, for us to make the trial;
so jump into the dugout, and we'll paddle for the other shore, Roger."
FOOTNOTE:
[4] See "The Pioneer Boys of the Mississippi."
CHAPTER IV
THE CABIN OF BOB ARMSTRONG
THERE was still danger in crossing the broad river in so small a boat
as the clumsy dugout; so that the two lads had to be constantly on
their guard against being caught broadside on, when the waves and wind
united to beat against their craft.
Fortunately their voyage was almost in the teeth of the elements, and
they were not compelled to expose the side of the boat.
Dick always sat in the stern, as he was considered the captain
and pilot, being better able to judge of what was proper to do in
emergencies than Roger, since there was always a chance of the latter
becoming confused, as he himself very frankly admitted.
On this occasion Roger was wild with impatience to get home. What his
cousin had just told him had excited him more than anything he had ever
heard; and the wonderful prospect that opened to them, if they could
obtain the consent of their parents to follow after the President's
expedition in search of the distant Pacific, known only to Balboa's
party long, long before, thrilled him.
[Illustration: "ONCE EVEN DICK'S BEST WORK COULD NOT PREVENT THE DUGOUT
FROM TURNING PARTLY, SO AS TO EXPOSE A SIDE TO THE WIND."]
No doubt it affected his paddling to some extent, for Dick noticed
that he dipped deeper, and made more vigorous strokes, than he could
ever remember Roger doing. In fact, he was put to his best efforts to
counteract the "swing" that these furious efforts on the part of the
head paddler gave the boat.
Once even Dick's best work could not prevent the dugout from turning
partly, so as to expose a side to the wind, and they came very near
capsizing.
"Careful, Roger! Not so much ginger in your stroke! We'll get there
in good time, if only you keep up a steady gait. There are no Indians
after us, and the supper horn has not blown yet, that I have heard!"
Thus Dick chided his impetuous cousin.
After that the other lad, as though himself realizing the folly of
allowing his excitement to have such sway over his actions, managed to
moderate his speed and they had no more trouble.
Besides, the nearer the boat drew to land, the more shelter they
obtained from the fact that the shore was covered with trees,
which broke the force of the wind, so that presently they were in
comparatively calm waters.
They ran their boat upon a shelving beach, where it was usually kept
when the stage of water permitted. The painter was secured to a stake
that had been driven into the ground, after which the two boys climbed
the bank, and headed for home.
"After you've had a talk with your parents, when supper is done, get
them to come over to grandfather's cabin for a grand powwow," said
Dick, as he and Roger were about to separate.
"That's a good idea," replied the other; "and, if ever I wished for
anything in all my life, it's that they may say 'yes.' I'll never be
happy unless they do, because it would be a glorious thing if we could
find that man, Jasper Williams, and get his signature to the paper that
will save our homes."
Dick was a boy of few words. He seldom gave expression to his feelings
after the more boisterous manner of his cousin, but the hearty grip
which he gave Roger's hand at parting was more expressive than words,
and the other boy knew that his own sentiments were echoed in the
heart of his companion.
There were three log cabins not far from each other in the clearing.
The middle one of these belonged to Grandfather David Armstrong, the
original settler of the place, while, on either side, his two sons, at
the time of their marriages, had built homes of a similar type.
They had secured a grant of land that embraced many rich acres, and
which, when the settlement of St. Louis grew in size, would become
more and more valuable. Knowing this fact, then, it can be seen how
the prospect of having their land taken away by a defect in the title
affected the Armstrongs, young and old.
Dick strode straight to his own cabin home. He was carrying with him
as many of the fish as he could well manage, and expected to send his
younger brother, Sam, back to the boat to get the balance of what they
had caught.
The night was just settling down, though it would not be dark for some
time yet, as the long days had come in with the month of June, which
was now not far from its close.
In the west the glow of the sunset still lingered and once again did
Dick Armstrong stop for a brief interval to stare at the touches of
gold and crimson that flecked the heavens. No doubt the lad was vaguely
wondering whether he and his cousin would be allowed to start forth to
pierce that unknown wilderness lying under that mysterious sky; and, if
so, what wonderful sights might they not set eyes on during the weeks
and months of their absence, while trying to find Jasper Williams!
Some such strange thoughts must have been passing through his mind,
for he gave vent to a long-drawn sigh as he once more started for the
cabin, from the small windows of which shone a cheery light.
Even as he drew near, the door opened, and the form of a woman was
outlined as she stood there, evidently looking out into the gloaming.
It was Dick's mother, anxious, as any good mother would be, concerning
her boy, who might have been upon the wild and riotous Missouri at the
time that summer squall first broke.
"Is that you, Dick?" she called out eagerly, seeing a figure
approaching.
"Yes, mother," came the reply; "we had to wait till the waves went down
some, before trying to cross; because, you see, the old dugout is a
clumsy thing in a heavy sea. But we came over without shipping much
water, and with plenty of fish. I'll leave them in the shed here, and
wash up before I come in."
But, before doing so, Dick, who knew how anxious his mother must have
been during the gale, went up and kissed her.
A short time later he entered the house. The interior of the cabin was
like all of its kind. To the boys of the present generation it would
doubtless have seemed a very poor makeshift for a home, since so many
of the comforts to which they are accustomed were lacking; but in the
eyes of Dick Armstrong it meant everything; and with father, mother,
and his brother, Sam, present, he could wish for nothing more.
The fire burned brightly on the wide hearth, where the simple supper
was cooking. From the heavy rafters overhead hung strings of herbs,
and onions, and such things as the good housewife of those days deemed
necessary for the welfare of her household. There was also a ham,
home-cured; and some strips of dried venison, buffalo meat and even
portions of a young bear that Dick had shot during the preceding fall.
White dimity curtains at the windows gave the room a homelike air. The
younger boy was oiling several traps that he meant to store away until,
with the coming of the crisp frosty air, the next season for taking
pelts would have arrived. The father, who has been known in earlier
stories concerning this pioneer family as Bob Armstrong, was engaged in
reading a newspaper from the Far East that had come to old David, and
was such a rarity that it was passed from hand to hand, until decrepit
from age and much handling.
Bob had developed into a sturdy man. As has been stated before, he had
married the daughter of another settler, whose home was in St. Louis;
and made both a good husband and a kind father. Being industrious, he
was by degrees developing the farm that had come to him as his share of
the grant secured by David Armstrong from the French company owning a
greater part of the land around the new settlement. Even now they were
getting good crops, and had a barn in which these could be stored.
Taken all in all, this Armstrong settlement was the most thrifty within
fifty miles; and people who saw the fields of grain, as well as the
animals raised upon the several farms, said that David and his two
sons deserved great credit for their persistent energy.
Evidently supper had been waiting on account of the absence of the
older boy, for Mrs. Armstrong immediately began serving it, piping hot.
If there was not a great variety on the board, at least one could not
complain on account of the quantity.
Bob was impatient to hear an account of the fishing excursion, and
while the meal went on Dick entertained them all with the story of how
he and his cousin happened on the den of the bear in the big hollow oak
and, seeking refuge from the storm there, had been surprised by the
return of the owner, with the result that they were compelled to treat
Mr. Bear rather meanly in order to induce him not to crowd in on them.
Young Sam laughed heartily as he heard the particulars; and even Bob
seemed to be vastly amused. No doubt it brought many a similar scene
back to his mind, connected with those days in the past when two other
boys, himself and his brother Sandy, roamed the woods and valleys in
search of game, and met with many surprising adventures by field and
flood.
Dick purposely refrained from saying a word concerning the bold scheme
which he and Roger had conceived, until after the meal was over.
Mrs. Armstrong was washing up the dishes, and Sam still busily engaged
with his traps, with which he and Dick had done good work during the
previous winter, when, unable to hold in any longer, Dick sprung his
surprise.
"Father, there's something I want to talk with you about," he began;
and Bob, realizing from the sober tone in which his son spoke that it
could be no trifling matter, laid down the paper, and looked at the
boy's flushed face.
"Well, what is it, Dick?" he asked, uneasily; while the mother stopped
her work to glance up, and even Sam laid his trap down on the floor,
and listened.
"While we were sitting there on the shore, waiting for the wind to
quiet down a bit, so we could take chances and cross over, Roger and
I got to talking. I told him all you said to me about the shadow that
has fallen on our homes here, and, father, Roger, in his impetuous
way, declared that we ought to follow up the Lewis and Clark company,
to find that man, Jasper Williams, and get his signature to the paper
that will save our land from being taken away. And, father, as I heard
Roger say that, something in me seemed to rise up and declare that
such was our duty. I promised him to get you to go over to Grandfather
Armstrong's cabin after supper, where we could have a council of
war, and see if something could not be done to let us two go on this
mission!"
When Dick stopped speaking a silence fell upon them all. Father and
mother exchanged quick glances, and there were tears in their eyes.
CHAPTER V
A GRAND PALAVER
"OH! Dick, my boy, we could not let you go from us in that way!"
Of course Dick had expected that his mother would say something like
this; but he looked more to his father for the consent that would
mean so much. The very thought was staggering to those loving hearts;
but in those days boys of fifteen and sixteen were so accustomed to
thinking and doing for themselves that they were fully trusted by their
elders. And, besides, mothers had been brought up in the hard school
of experience, thus learning early in life to look upon danger as an
ever-present thing.
If his father could be brought to see the desperate undertaking in the
right light, Dick knew that the victory was as good as won; for the
former would be able to convince the good wife and mother that it was,
after all, a reasonable conclusion, as well as the sole hope of saving
their imperiled homes.
Bob Armstrong shook his head, even while his eyes grew dim as they
rested on Dick's eager face.
"God knows, your mother and I understand and appreciate the motive that
prompts you to say that, my boy," he said; "but we could not accept
the sacrifice that it would mean. If there is no other way to save our
farms, then they must go, and we will have to take up some new land,
and start in afresh."
"But, father, why should you feel that way?" the lad went on to say.
"Can you not trust me in the woods? Have I ever failed to take every
precaution, and up to now has anything serious ever happened to me?"
"No, it is not that, son," replied Bob; "a man could not wish to have
a better boy than you have always been, and I wager you know more
woodcraft right now than either your Uncle Sandy or myself had in our
heads at your age. But it would not be right for us to stay comfortably
at home here, while our sons were meeting with all manner of perils off
in that unknown country."
Dick smiled on hearing that. He believed that, if there was no stronger
argument against the venture, his case was already as good as won.
And, having thought it all out, he now proceeded to knock away the
props from under the structure founded by his father.
"Please look back, father, to your own boyhood days," he said, soberly.
"How many times have you sat there, and told us of how you and Uncle
Sandy started out by yourselves on the trail of that young Iroquois
chief who carried Aunt Kate away. Yes, you followed him clear to the
Great Lakes, to the country that was teeming with enemies. And, in
spite of every peril, you and my uncle, with only the help of that old
trapper Pat O'Mara, since gone to the Happy Hunting Grounds, and the
friendly Indian, Blue Jacket, did rescue Aunt Kate, and even saved the
life of Pontiac, who afterwards gave you the magic wampum belt that
has kept us from harm all these years. Father, what I am saying is all
true, isn't it?"
"Yes, yes, every word of it, my son; but, then, the conditions were
different at that time," replied the other, hastily. "Our sister had
been carried off, my father was far away on the road to Virginia on
important business, and there was no one else to go in search of Kate,
so brother Sandy and myself _had_ to start out."
"Ah! yes, but you went willingly, eagerly, I know, father, just as we
feel like doing now," the boy went on.
"But the life and happiness of our only sister was at stake, Dick," the
father said, and yet in a half hesitating way, as though the argument
of the boy was already beginning to have its effect.
"Well, the future happiness of _three_ families is at stake now,
father. And if in those days you and Uncle Sandy could face the perils
of the wilderness, and win out, why should not Roger and I do the same
now? All we would have to do would be to follow up the course of the
river, week after week, until we caught the expedition; and then keep
on with them until Jasper Williams joined them, as he expects to do by
the time they reach the Mandan country. After that, having secured his
signature to the paper, we could bring it back to you. Why, what could
be easier than that? And think of all it means to us, father!"
"Yes, yes, I understand, Dick, and Heaven knows I feel like giving my
consent. But it is no light matter, to be settled off-hand in a minute.
I have your mother's feelings to consider. She would be loath to see
you leave us, and plunge into that unknown country that lies toward
the setting sun."
"But, father, I have heard you say many times that you often had a
longing yourself to go there, and if you were not the head of a family
the temptation might have been more than you could stand. Yes, and
Uncle Sandy echoed your words, and looked forlorn for a whole day, as
though he had to light with the desire to once more become a pioneer,
and explore new countries."
Bob Armstrong smiled, and glanced toward his wife, who shook her head,
not trusting herself to speech. But Dick felt encouraged, and believed
he had made great progress toward gaining the consent of both parents.
There remained one trump card to play--Grandfather Armstrong, who
always sympathized with his grandsons in their ambitions, and who would
be apt to look back to those days when he, as a father, trusted his
own sons in every undertaking that could happen in the lives of young
pioneers along the Ohio and the Mississippi.
"By now, Uncle Sandy and Roger must be over at Grandfather Armstrong's
cabin; and I promised that we would meet them there for a talk. You
will not object to hearing what he has to say, father, I hope?" Dick
went on.
"I can see what the result will be if Grandfather takes a hand in it,"
remarked Bob, with a shrug of his shoulders; "but then, it seems to be
a case of 'old men for council; young men for war,' and we surely ought
to listen to what he has to say of the project, after he has heard both
sides."
The younger boy, Sam, who had been listening to all this amazing talk
with eagerness, now broke in with:
"But I can shoot a rifle as well as Dick, and know lots about trailing,
and all those things Pat O'Mara used to teach me before he died; why
must I stay at home if Dick goes, father?"
"That would never do!" declared Dick, immediately. "Mother could not
stand the absence of both her boys at the same time. Who would do the
hunting and fishing then, while father worked the farm? Where would
the meat come from, Sam? No; if I go, you must take my place, and show
what you can do. Besides, while you are strong for your years, a boy
of twelve could hardly expect to keep up with those who are so much
older. Oh! no, it would not do at all."
Sam was inclined to protest, but he saw his mother's grieved face; and
something there seemed to give his heart a wrench. Perhaps it was the
thought of being separated from her by hundreds of miles of wilderness,
never, perhaps, to see her again in this life; for, after all, Sam was
only a very young boy, and he had not been tried so severely as his
father and uncle in their early days.
"Oh, well, I suppose I'll have to stay home, and take your place, Dick;
but some fine day I mean to see that Golden West for myself, remember
that," he said, and, somehow, his taking it for granted that the
parents' consent was sure to be given to his brother's daring project
did more to hasten the decision than anything that had as yet occurred.
"Come," remarked Bob, "let us all go to Grandfather Armstrong's, and
talk it over. I want to see what Sandy thinks, before I make up my
mind;" but Dick knew from his father's manner that already he had been
partly won over.
So they all trooped out, and were soon entering the central cabin.
David Armstrong was now getting quite old. Thirty years had passed
since he came down the Ohio on a flatboat, seeking a new home in the
wilderness; and his hair was as white as the snows that came with each
succeeding winter. He was not able to do much manual labor himself,
but hired help to look after his extensive holdings, that already had
increased ten times in value, and would be worth a fortune later on, if
they could only manage to retain possession of them.
Evidently the old man and his wife had been told of the bold
proposition which Dick and Roger had made, for his dimmed eyes rested
fondly on his other grandson as Dick entered the big cabin.
David loved these boys even as he had his own sons. He had watched
their growth into young manhood, and in every way fostered their good
traits. And, knowing what they were capable of doing, if any one was
able to decide whether they could be entrusted with such a dangerous
mission it should be Grandfather Armstrong.
Sandy was almost as sturdy a man as his brother Bob, and his wife was
a fine helpmeet for a pioneer. There was none her equal in all that
region when it came to putting up sweets for the long winter season and
in carrying out the numerous responsibilities that a housewife in those
times had to take upon her shoulders.
But just now Phoebe Armstrong seemed dumb with the dread that had
seized her, after hearing what an undertaking her only boy proposed
embarking upon.
Aunt Kate, too, was there, a buxom young woman, who had helped to
mother all the children of her two brothers as they came along; and now
took upon herself many of the duties that were proving too arduous for
her mother, not so strong as in the years long gone by. And the last
member of the group was little Mary, Sandy's daughter, a winsome child
of seven, with flaxen hair, and eyes rivaling the blue skies and who,
as already mentioned, had been named after Grandmother Armstrong.
And then the grand "powwow," as Roger called it, began, the boys
stating their case, and begging hard to be allowed to carry out the
plan they had set their hearts on. Both fathers also entered into the
discussion, but the mothers only listened, rather white of face, but
evidently willing that such an important matter should be settled by
the heads of the houses.
All the while Grandfather Armstrong sat there, smoking his long pipe,
and listening to what was said. And after all had been argued, fathers
and boys seemed to turn toward the old man for a decision.
Removing his pipe, David Armstrong looked around at the row of eager as
well as anxious faces, and, speaking slowly, delivered himself of his
decision.
"I think," he said, very solemnly, "that these brave boys should be
allowed to show what they are made of, and try to save for their
parents the homes we have planted here in this beautiful spot. And so,
let them make the venture!"
CHAPTER VI
BAD NEWS
"HAVE you come to tell me what they have decided, Dick?" asked Roger,
on the following afternoon, when his cousin overtook him on the river
bank, where he had gone to work halfheartedly on a new dugout which
the boys were fashioning from an especially fine log selected by Bob
himself.
"Yes, father just came in to tell me that he and Uncle Sandy had
finally determined that, since we were so set upon trying to save the
farms, they could not stand in the way," replied the other, who was
almost out of breath.
Roger threw his hat high in the air, and his face broke out in a smile,
as he let a whoop escape him that would have done credit to some
Pottawatomie brave, eager to go upon the warpath.
"That's the best news you could have brought me, Dick!" he exclaimed.
"And how you fooled me with your long face. My heart seemed to drop
away down in my moccasins, because I was afraid they had said 'no.'
But I had a heap of faith in Grandfather Armstrong, and he was with us
from the beginning. When can we start, Dick? Oh, the hours will drag
like lead till we are off! Not that I won't suffer because of leaving
mother and father and all the rest; but it means so much to everybody.
And, Dick, do you think we will succeed? Can we overtake Captain Lewis,
after he's had so long a start? And will Jasper Williams be there to
sign that paper?"
His cousin laughed at the flood of eager questions.
"One at a time, Roger," he remarked, holding the other at arms' length.
"They will not think of letting us off under two days, because our
mothers will want to get so many things ready for us to take. But what
does a little delay matter, when we know that we are going to take the
great trip? Think of how every boy in the settlement will envy us, and
wish he could go along. But this is too serious a business to think of
taking any company with us. They would not have anything at stake, and
might feel like backing down when troubles came, while we do not mean
to let anything hold us back."
Roger turned, and looked toward the west. That was always the "unknown
country" to the American pioneer, even when the first of them climbed
the Alleghanies, and from their tops saw the sun sink behind the
forests beyond. It held mysteries that the eyes of white men had as
yet never rested upon. Could there be a more enticing prospect to lure
adventurous lads forward than this piercing of the wilderness, day
after day, moving ever onward toward the distant shore of the Pacific,
of which they had heard such great stories, handed down from the lips
of those who had perhaps gazed upon the western sea in the East Indies;
or it might be from the narrow isthmus down where the waves of the
Caribbean Sea washed the shores of the Spanish Main.
It was a beautiful day. Fleecy white clouds dotted the blue sky. Here
a white-headed eagle soared round and round in great circles, sailing
ever upward toward the sun. Far out upon the water a fish-hawk or
osprey was hovering with winnowing wing, preparatory to darting down
to clutch some unlucky fish in its talons; after which, possibly, the
"lord of the air" might attack the hawk, and force a surrender of the
finny prey, after the manner of all eagles, even to this day.
It was a pleasure to breathe the fresh air, and be thankful that one
lived. Add to this the realization that a dream was about to come true,
such as no boy had ever dared indulge before, and the feelings of Roger
Armstrong can be partly understood.
No wonder his boyish face shone with happiness. True, there would be
tearful partings from those he loved; but then, his heart was staunch,
and he knew he could stand that. And the wonderful mission that
beckoned them forward, was not that enough to pay for any trouble and
suffering they might meet?
"How do you suppose they will say we ought to follow the expedition,
Dick?" he finally found tongue to ask, at the same time casting a
dubious look in the direction of the dugout upon which he had been
working.
Seeing that look, Dick burst out laughing.
"Well, if it depended on our paddling that heavy craft hundreds and
hundreds of miles up the swift current of the Missouri, making a carry
every now and then, perhaps, and going ashore every night to camp, I
don't think we'd ever come up with those French Canadian voyageurs who
handle the three boats Captain Lewis has with him. You remember how
we followed them all one morning when they passed here, and how badly
we felt after they had disappeared around the big bend above. And it
seems almost too good to be true to think that we are going after them,
perhaps to be in their company a long time."
"But answer my question, please, Dick; if not by boat, then how shall
we overtake the expedition, which must be a hundred or more miles away
by now?"
"There is only one way, Roger. Our fathers have decided that we shall
start out with horses, one each to ride, and another for a pack animal,
to carry some of the things we may want on the long journey. I did not
think we would need these last; but I said nothing, for it pleases our
mothers to think that we may carry plenty of good things along. But
between us, Roger, I wouldn't be a bit surprised if we had to abandon
our packhorses before we've been a week on the trail, and trust to the
fleetness of our own animals' heels to keep ourselves from being made
prisoners by some of the Indian tribes whose country we have to pass
through."
Even this dismal prophecy did not appear to affect the impulsive Roger.
Indeed, his eyes sparkled more than ever, as though he rather enjoyed
the prospect of being thrown on his own resources. It was going to be a
fine opportunity to learn the value of those secrets of woodcraft which
he had picked up from time to time.
From the early days of history, the prospect of adventure has appealed
to all boys with red blood in their veins. Only for that eagerness,
shown by the early pioneers, to pit themselves against the perils of
the wilderness, how would our frontier line have been extended, year
after year, until it finally broke over the mighty Rockies, and reached
the western sea?
"But two whole days," Roger muttered, "they will seem ever so long to
me, Dick. I wish it could be to-morrow."
"Oh! but there is plenty to be done, for all of us," replied the more
thoughtful lad; "I'll see to it that you have no idle minutes on your
hands from this time out. To begin with, Roger, pick up your tools, and
bring them to the house. All work on this boat must be put off until
our return, unless Sam chooses, with the help of Grandfather, to finish
it, which I rather think will be the case."
They turned their back upon the river, but it would be in their minds
always. Indeed, they must expect to follow its erratic course over
plains and through valleys, heading into the northwest continually,
until in due time they might hope to overtake those who had gone
before, with horses, and boats, and all manner of stores, intended to
placate, it might be, the hostile and suspicious tribes that had never
before set eyes on a white man.
Yes, those were busy hours with every one. Even Sam felt that he must
do what little he could. The hunting could wait until after his brother
had said his last good-by, and ridden away into the west--time enough
for all that; but just now he wanted to see all he could of Dick, who
had never seemed half so dear as when he was about to go away.
Sad hours they were for the parents of both lads, though they
endeavored to conceal it. The mothers shed their tears in secret, not
wishing to display any weakness. Now that the matter had been settled
they were like the staunch Roman mothers of old, who could with dry
eyes send their sons forth to battle, keeping all display of womanly
weakness for their own rooms.
The horses that were to be taken had been selected, and every detail of
saddles and bridles looked after before the first full day had gone.
Bob and Sandy Armstrong saw to these things themselves. Their former
experience in the forest was of great value in this emergency, for they
knew just what ought to be taken by their sons, from extra flints in
order to ensure fire, and for the rifles, to blankets needed on the
nights when perhaps they would be exposed to chilling winds and storms,
far up in a mountainous country.
By the time the next day was over, the preparations had gone on so
well that the boys had gained the consent of their parents to making
the start at noon of the following day, which would give them several
hours' gain on the original plan of campaign.
Charts or plans of the country there were none, for no whites had
penetrated more than a hundred miles or so to the westward. It was
believed that many different tribes of Indians lived along the upper
Missouri, for from time to time venturesome trappers had met roving
bands and picked up a certain amount of information concerning the
fierce Sioux, the Blackfeet, the Mandans, and other nations that warred
against each other, and seemed to hold certain sections of the country
as their hunting grounds, ready to fight any trespassers, be they red
or white.
Roger had gone down to the settlement of St. Louis to carry out some
errand entrusted to him, and on his return it was seen that the boy
looked very much excited, as though he might have heard news that
concerned the mission he and his cousin had agreed to carry out.
The others were gathered at the cabin of Grandfather Armstrong,
examining something which the old man had brought out, and which he
wished the boys to take along with them on their trip.
So Roger came hurrying up, and his excited manner immediately drew the
attention of everybody. The first thing that struck Bob Armstrong was
that bad news might have been received concerning the expedition of
Captain Lewis; for there had been many dismal prophecies uttered that
they would fall before an overwhelming attack of hostile Indians before
they had been a month on the way, or reached anywhere near the falls
of the river at the place where Atchison, Kansas, now stands.
"Tell us the worst, son!" demanded Sandy, as Roger reached the group.
"Is it any evil that has befallen our good friend, Captain Lewis, and
his gallant command?"
"No, not that, father," replied the boy; "but, would you believe it?
that Frenchman, François Lascelles, has been in St. Louis with his
son; and, learning of our mission, they have already started, bent on
finding Williams before we can, and fixing it so that all our work will
be useless!"
CHAPTER VII
OFF ON THE GREAT JOURNEY
"THE hound!" exclaimed Sandy Armstrong, with something of his old
impetuosity.
"But, even as it is, we will outwit him," Dick observed, with that
quiet resolution that was so distinctly a part of his character. "They
can only have a day or so the start of us; and it may not be so hard to
get ahead of his party in the thick of the woods."
"And if he tries any of his tricks on us," broke in the indignant
Roger, "be sure that we will not spare him. We are going to remember
that he is a bad man, who plans to rob us of our homes, and steal the
property our parents have built up here. Yes, it won't be such a fine
day for Monsieur Lascelles when he meets the Armstrong boys face to
face; eh, Dick?"
The bad news Roger had brought from the settlement seemed to cast a
shadow on the coming separation of the boys from those they loved. The
mothers sighed, and had hard work to force a smile when either of the
lads happened to be near. Even the fathers got together many times, and
conferred as to whether one of them should not accompany the boys.
But it seemed as though fate had stepped in to prevent. Sandy had
recently been ill, and had hardly recovered his strength; while Bob,
only a week before, had cut himself in the foot with an axe, so that he
would be hobbling around for a month yet. And, under such conditions,
either one of them would prove a drag on the movements of the boys.
And so it was finally decided that the original plan must be adhered
to, unless they intended to change their minds entirely, and not allow
Dick and Roger to undertake the mission.
The news had the effect of sobering Roger somewhat. He began to realize
more than ever that their venture was to be no jaunt, but a serious
matter, to call for the best efforts they could put forth. Not only
would they be exposed to perils from wild animals, storms that must
sweep over the great mountains from time to time, and constantly beset
by the hostile Indians whose territory they meant to invade; but here
was a new danger in the vindictive and lawless French trader, who would
leave no stone unturned to balk the accomplishment of their mission.
Still, neither dreamed of turning back. They were like old Israel
Putnam--once his hand was at the plow, nothing could swerve him.
Their friends in the St. Louis settlement proved most kind. Many came
out to talk matters over, and some to offer good advice concerning
the many difficulties they had heard of in connection with the trail
leading to the setting sun. And one and all brought something from
their stores that they hoped the boys might find room for among the
packages to be fastened on the packhorse.
It had been decided to take only one extra horse along. Dick had been
instrumental in bringing about this decision. Although he advanced
other reasons, the truth of the matter was that he expected they would
have to abandon any pack animal when dangers began to thicken around
them, and he did not want to be the means of causing greater loss than
was necessary.
Besides, they could carry all they wanted on one animal. There was
a rude tent that had seen much use, cooking utensils, blankets,
some extra clothing, stores intended for food, and some trinkets
that Grandfather Armstrong supplied, such as beads and small
looking-glasses, which his experience told him might be used to gain
the good will of strange tribes of Indians, to whom such trifles would
appeal strongly.
They could not have carried one-quarter of the many articles that
well-meaning women friends of their mothers brought with them. This was
no junketing expedition, on which they could start with a vast amount
of preserves and cakes and such dainties; but a most serious business.
They did not disdain to take some of the pemmican, because that might
come in handy should they be passing through a dangerous section of
country, where it would be risky to discharge a gun, lest by so doing
the sound bring a host of enemies upon them.
Dick had listened to all the stories he could concerning the wilderness
far up the great river. Then he had gone off by himself, and tried to
draw an imaginary chart that would cover the ground. Upon this he had
marked all known points; and around any of which there existed any
doubt he always drew a circle, to indicate that proof was needed.
No doubt this chart was a crude affair, and, if seen nowadays, when
every mile of the distance has been measured and mapped by geographers,
it would cause a smile; but, in the absence of anything definite, it
gave the boys a certain amount of confidence; and, moreover, as they
went along, and certain features were proved to be grossly exaggerated,
they could make changes.
And if they were fortunate enough to come back again, what pride they
could take in exhibiting that altered chart, which had been built
up week after week, as they pierced farther and farther into the
wilderness.
The eventful day dawned bright and clear.
It seemed a friendly omen to Dick Armstrong as he went about his
morning duties as though nothing out of the ordinary was about to take
place, so well under control did the boy hold himself.
They gathered in the big cabin of Grandfather Armstrong for dinner,
every soul of the little settlement, and at the table the old man asked
that the blessings of Heaven might follow those two bold lads as they
started out upon their adventure.
It would have been a cheerless meal indeed, had not Dick taken things
in hand, and joked in a way quite unlike his usual self. But his father
and uncle understood how full the lad's heart was, and that he was
forced to assume such levity in order not to break down.
Finally the meal ended, but to most of those who took part it was more
like a funeral feast than a banquet in spite of the good things with
which Grandmother Armstrong and Aunt Kate had prepared.
And now the time had come to say good-by.
The horses were ready, fresh, and apparently eager to be moving,
unconscious of the fact that in all probability they would never more
see the home stable.
Despite their efforts to appear gay, the hearts of the boys seemed
to be in their throats, so that in the end, when it came each lad's
turn to embrace his mother a second time, turning to her last of all,
neither Dick nor Roger could utter a single word.
But boyish nature is apt to soon recover from these things; and once
they had shut out the familiar scene, and turned their faces toward
the west, they gradually recovered their customary spirits.
[Illustration: "AT THE EDGE OF THE WOODS THEY STOPPED THEIR HORSES, AND
TURNED IN THE SADDLE TO WAVE A FAREWELL."]
At the edge of the woods they stopped their horses, and turned in the
saddle to wave a farewell. Across the field there welled the hearty
calls of fathers and grandfather; while the shrill voice of Sam bade
them not to forget that they had promised to fetch him back some
memento of the country on the upper reaches of the Missouri, which some
day, if he lived to be a man, he meant to visit for himself.
"Ready, Roger?" asked Dick, in a husky tone; for he knew that the
sooner his impulsive cousin were started, so that the trees might shut
out all view of those loved faces, the better.
"Yes, come on, Dick!" answered the other, gulping hard.
A word to the horses, and they were off. The heavy woods immediately
came between, and, even though they turned in the saddle again, nothing
of their home could they see.
The boys rode at a fast pace, because it seemed to agree with their
spirits, just then, and they felt that they wanted to place some
distance between themselves and home, possibly lest their resolution
fail them.
And in thus making their start upon such a tremendous undertaking, what
strange pictures must have occupied the minds of the adventurous pair,
as they surveyed that uncertain future, which might be peopled with
such adventures as mortals had never before dreamed of meeting?
But, just as Dick had foreseen would be the case, in half an hour both
had seemingly recovered their spirits and were looking hopefully to the
future to fulfill some of the many dreams that had filled their minds
ever since the subject of the long journey had been broached.
CHAPTER VIII
THE TRACK OF THE MARKED HOOF
"WHAT'S gone wrong, Roger?"
"Our packhorse has disappeared in the night; I've looked high and low
for him, Dick, but it's no use."
"Did you hobble him the way we had the other animals fixed?" asked the
other lad.
"Yes, but you know he always had a habit of straying farther than
either of the riding horses; and the chances are he's gone so far now
that he doesn't know the way back. What will we do about it, Dick; wait
over and spend the best part of a day looking for him; or divide up the
stuff, and get on?"
Impatient Roger undoubtedly would be for the latter method of solving
the question, if left to his own devices. He was already tired of the
slow progress they seemed to have been making in all these weeks they
had been on the go.
"Well, in the first place," began Dick, "we ought to make some sort of
a hunt for the packhorse. We've managed to keep him with us so far,
after some narrow shaves, and it would be a great pity to let him go
just because we didn't want to take the trouble to look him up."
"But," objected the other, "he may be miles away from here by now."
"Very well, Roger; if we find that such is the case we can give the
hunt up, and do the next best thing. But let's start out, and see where
his tracks lead."
"But how are we to know which are the tracks of the led animal, Dick?"
queried Roger. "Horses' hoofs are pretty much the same, seems to me."
"Well, yes, as a rule that is so," came the reply, with a confident
smile; "but in this case it happens that old Peter had a chip knocked
from the outside edge of his off hind hoof, which always left a mark I
could tell. I've noticed it about a hundred times, and always thought
that, if the old stray ever did get away, from us, with the stuff on
his back, we could easily follow his trail."
"It takes you to notice all those things, Dick; and yet I have a good
pair of eyes, too," observed Roger, thoughtfully.
"As good as mine, and perhaps better, Roger; but the trouble is you
seldom use them as much as you might. But come, let us start out and
see what there is to be found. And look for the track with the outer
edge sheared off."
The two boys had been in camp in a little depression on the bank of the
river, which they had reached on the preceding afternoon.
At the time, the day had not been so far advanced but that they could
have gone a few miles farther; but as soon as Dick had seen this
camping place he had surprised and partly dismayed the eager Roger by
expressing a desire to put in the night there.
The reason for this became manifest later on, when he showed his
companion unmistakable signs to prove that the expedition they were
following had, in fact, tied up there for the night. There were
numerous indications to prove this--tracks of white men's shoes, and
the moccasins of the guides and trappers accompanying the soldiers; as
well as the hoof prints of the horses.
Of course, when he learned this fact Roger was reconciled to wasting
a little of their precious time. He knew that they could discover a
variety of things while camping in the same place that those who
preceded them had occupied.
And, after a careful examination of the signs, with a remembrance of
the fact that quite a heavy rain had fallen two weeks before, which
would have washed away any tracks made before its coming, both boys
were convinced that the expedition must have camped here after that
storm.
This was most important to the boys. It assured them that they had
gained remarkably on Captain Lewis and his company, who had had such a
long start of them. If the expedition had been here within two weeks,
their chances of overtaking it were excellent. Perhaps in another week,
or two at least, they might expect to come upon the boats.
That anticipation had made Roger unusually cheerful all through the
preceding night. Indeed, he even found difficulty in sleeping, and had
been on his feet numerous times after they lay down in their blankets
under the shelter of the tent.
And now a new source of trouble had come upon them. Old Peter, the
packhorse, had a habit of wandering off; and on several other occasions
Roger had been compelled to hunt for him in the morning; but this time
he seemed to have disappeared for good.
Of course both lads took their rifles with them when leaving camp. In
those early days, when one's life often depended on prompt action,
and also on having the means of defence handy, men and boys never
neglected to keep their firearms where they could lay a hand on them
at a second's warning. Even when they slept, Dick and his cousin kept
their guns close by, with a protecting arm generally thrown over them,
for they looked upon these weapons as their best, indeed only, friends
in this wild country.
It took Dick but a minute or two to circle around just outside the
camp, and find the track of the broken hoof. Just as he expected, it
soon began to edge away from camp. Old Peter was evidently up to his
tricks again, and the grass must have seemed sweeter to him the further
he could roam away from the spot where the tent had been pitched.
They followed the trail for a few minutes. Then Dick came to a pause,
and, screening his eyes with his hand, looked keenly around.
"See any sign of the old rascal?" asked Roger.
"I must say I don't," came the answer; "and, to tell the truth, I
hardly like the idea of wandering so far away from camp. While we are
gone some one might come along and steal everything we own--horses,
outfit and all."
"That would be a tough deal for us, Dick," remarked the other; "and for
one I don't think it would pay us to take the chance for the sake of
such an old horse as Peter. But what shall we do?"
"Go back and get our breakfast," answered Dick, promptly, as though he
had been making up his mind while they hunted for the tracks; "then, if
he doesn't show up, we can load the stuff on both our horses, and start
out."
"But that would be a pretty uncomfortable way of doing, I'd say,"
objected Roger, who did not like the thought of riding perched on top
of the folded tent, and with all manner of other things around him.
"Oh! I don't mean to try it long," the other hastened to reply. "You
see, it happens that the trail leads up-river, so we could keep on
following it, and not leave our stuff unprotected. Then, if we found
Peter, it would be all right; and, on the other hand, if we didn't,
and had to give him up, I've a notion we'd better get rid of a few
things like the tent, and go on our journey lighter."
"It is pretty old, for a fact, and clumsy, too. When that Indian brave
sold the tent to us, he played a smart trick, for the skins had been
exposed so long to sun and rain and wind that they were getting weak. I
won't be sorry to see the old affair kicked out. We're used to sleeping
on the ground, and if it rains we can make a shelter out of branches,
or find a hole in the rocks."
"Perhaps a hollow tree," added Dick, laughingly, as they turned back
toward camp.
"Oh, well, in that case we'll try to make sure it doesn't happen to be
the den of a bear," observed the other. "Every time I think of that
fellow about to drop down on us, it gives me the shivers."
On reaching the camp they hurried preparations for breakfast. It was
always a simple meal, consisting of some meat or fish, cooked over the
small fire they had burning, and a dish of tea, of which both boys
happened to be very fond. Coffee in those early days was almost an
unknown luxury among the Western pioneers along the Missouri.
When they had partaken of this frugal but satisfying meal, the boys
started to take down the skin tent which had been the subject of
Roger's remarks. It was an old Indian lodge, and, while the figures of
animals and hunting scenes that once decorated its sides were pretty
well faded, enough remained to interest the boys from time to time,
and cause more or less speculation as to what they were intended to
represent.
After they had managed to load all their possessions on the backs of
the two riding horses, much to the surprise of the animals, they said
good-by to their night's camp, and once more started off, heading into
the northwest, and following the river.
Thus far much of their journey had been over the level plains, although
from time to time they had been in the country of hills and forests, as
well as rocky sections.
It happened that they were just then in a region where the woods came
down to the banks of the river; and in the open places grew the grass
upon which the hobbled horses had fed during the night.
Neither of the boys thought to climb into their saddles while following
the marked trail of the missing packhorse; indeed, that would have
been next door to an impossibility, with all those traps piled high
on the animals' backs. They walked along ahead of the horses, keeping
their eyes for the most part on the trail.
"The old sinner, to think that he'd wander all this way from where the
others put in the night," Roger remarked, when they had kept on for
almost ten minutes.
"Still, he doesn't show up ahead, as far as I can see," Dick observed,
"and, if we fail to sight him soon, we'll have to say good-by to Peter,
because he's beginning to bear away from the river, and we don't want
to spend a whole day looking for a poor old packhorse which we'd soon
lose, I reckon, anyway, when we get in the region of the hostile
Indians."
He had hardly said this when he threw up his hand.
"Stop a minute, Roger," said Dick, bending down, as though he had made
a discovery that aroused his deepest interest.
"What have you found--did Peter break his hobble rope? For I notice you
have picked up a piece of it, Dick."
"Look closer, and you will see that it has been cut by something
sharp, which I should say must have been a knife," the other went on,
hurriedly, yet with conviction in his voice; "and, Roger, we might as
well make up our minds that Peter is gone for good, because here are
the imprints of moccasins in the soft earth; an Indian must have run
across our packhorse, and carried him off!"
CHAPTER IX
ALONG THE BANK OF THE MISSOURI
"WHAT a shame!" exclaimed Roger, as soon as he could speak.
"Oh! well, it might have been a lot worse," remarked Dick.
"You mean that we didn't care very much for old Peter, after all; is
that it, Dick?" demanded the other.
"Yes; and, besides, just think what a mess we would have been in if it
had been a party of Indian thieves, and they'd made a clean sweep of
_all_ our horses," was the way Dick consoled himself.
Of course his cousin quickly saw things in the same light, as he
generally did after Dick had explained his views.
"How lucky," he went on, "that we were smart enough to build our little
cooking fire last night in that hollow, so it couldn't have been seen a
hundred feet away. Only for that this same horse thief must have found
out where we had our camp, and tried for the balance of our horses."
"Well, how can we blame him for picking up a stray animal that seemed
to be wandering around without an owner?" asked Dick. "I heard an old
trapper and trader tell Captain Lewis one day, when I was hanging
around the camp near the settlement, that he would always have lots of
trouble keeping his horses; for that was one thing the Indians coveted.
After this, we must not let our two animals wander away."
"I should say not," Roger returned, vigorously. "Why, it wouldn't take
an Indian ten seconds to throw a leg over one of our fine horses, and
be off like a flash. What would be the use of firing after him, when
we'd be just as apt to hit the running animal? No, we'll simply have to
be careful--more than ever, now. To lose a horse would ruin our chances
for overtaking the expedition, wouldn't it, Dick?"
"I'm afraid it would," replied the other, as he started to take off the
huge packages with which each of their animals had been burdened.
"What are we going to do now?" asked Roger.
"The first thing is to look over all this stuff, and see what we can do
without."
As he said this Dick cast aside the Indian tent that made quite a
good-sized package of itself, even when carefully folded.
Roger gave it a rueful glance, for he had thought more than a little of
that old affair. Then he laughed in his quick, nervous way, and on his
own account began to toss things from the back of the other horse.
Whenever he came to something concerning which he seemed to be in
doubt, Roger would hold it up, and say:
"What about this, Dick; think we really need it?"
In several cases his cousin was able to decide without any
consideration, for the boys had thrust in a number of things that, so
far, they had found no need for, and probably might not use at all.
Some of these had associations that they hated to break; but it seemed
absolutely necessary to reduce the stock they carried. And so Dick
would grimly nod his head, and say:
"Throw it aside, Roger; no use talking, it's got to go. Our horses
couldn't undertake to carry us and all this stuff, too. But I tell you
what we might do with it, and take a chance of getting it back some
time."
"You must mean _cache_ it, like the trappers do some of their pelts,
when they have more than they can carry, and mean to come back after
the rest at some future time; is that it, Dick?"
"Just what I meant," the other replied. "You see, we can do up the lot
inside this old tent, and find a hollow tree to hide it in."
"Close by the river, you mean, of course," added Roger, eagerly; for
anything like this always appealed to him.
"Yes, so that, when we come down again, we can look for the mark we'll
remember, and which may be a crooked tree bending over the water, or
something like that. Then we could come ashore to get the package, if
we're drifting in a boat, as may be the case. Captain Lewis might want
to buy our horses, you know, if he has lost a number of his animals
through wild beasts, and thieving Indians."
"But let's be sure the hole in the tree is a _small_ one," observed
Roger, turning a laughing face on his cousin.
"We will, you can be sure of that," the other assured him; "because,
they tell me that bears are apt to make their dens in some of these
hollow trees; and we don't want our traps to be used for a bed quilt."
So they sorted all the stuff over; and it was wonderful how little they
deemed indispensable. Friends had brought so many things as presents
for the adventurous boys, when they learned of the long journey which
they projected, that there were numerous duplicates in their outfit,
such as frying-pans, kettles and even blankets.
Finally the task was completed, and the tight bundle tied with cords,
so that it could be stowed away in some secret hiding-place, when they
discovered one that seemed to suit their ideas.
After that the forward march was resumed, though they made certain to
keep close to the bank of the river.
Before they left the spot Roger was seen to once more bend over that
imprint of a moccasin, as though examining it.
"What new idea has struck you?" asked his cousin, watching him closely.
"You may say it is foolish," replied the other, "but, do you know,
Dick, I was wondering whether this might not have been either François
Lascelles, or his son, who had stolen our horse, thinking to cripple
us, and in that way keep us from overtaking the expedition of Captain
Lewis."
The suggestion caused Dick to knit his brows, but he quickly shook his
head.
"In the first place, while I've never met this French trader, still,
I've heard so much about him that I feel sure he would never have
rested content until he had found our camp, so that he could steal all
our horses. No, Roger, this was only a wandering Indian, who happened
to run across old Peter, and gobbled him up. Look more closely at the
footprint, and you will see that it toes in very much. All Indians walk
that way, you know. Yes, some white men do, I admit, but the wearing of
moccasins never makes them turn their toes in as Indians do. This was a
copper-colored fellow, I'd be willing to stake my reputation on that."
"Oh, well," remarked the other, giving up, as he usually did after
arguing for a short time with Dick, "it doesn't matter much, anyway.
The packhorse is gone, and we'll never see him again. Shall we start
on, now, Dick?"
"We might as well," replied the leader of the little party, as he
climbed into his seat with some difficulty on account of the other
burdens loaded on the horse, "and remember that we must keep our eyes
on the lookout for some place to hide that package."
Roger had insisted on loading the "cast-offs" on his horse, while he
walked. It was not going to be for long, he asserted, and he could
stand it; and so the other had let him have his way, because he knew
that Roger was always happy when he could be doing something for others.
They were not long in discovering the very hiding-place they wanted
in which to conceal the tent and other things. And, as usual, it was
Roger's keen eyes that caught sight of it.
"Look over there, Dick. How would that suit us?--that tree with the
hump on its trunk, I mean; see the hole just above the ground, which, I
take it, is large enough to hold all we want to put in it. Then we can
stuff stones in afterwards, and block any animal from spreading himself
on our property."
"Yes, and after that we must efface all signs of what we've been
doing," declared Dick; "because some Indian might happen to cross our
trail and take a notion to follow it a space. When he came up to this
place he'd notice that we had done something to that tree, and take
a look in. But then, we ought to know how to do that, or else we're
mighty poor hunters."
They had little difficulty in pushing the bundle into the hollow, and
then filling the balance of the cavity with stones; finally removing
all traces of the fact that any human being had been close to the
marked tree.
After that they found a peculiar tree growing on the river bank, which
both noted carefully, so that they believed they would have little or
no trouble in recognizing it again, should the chance ever come to
them, when returning home. For at that time neither Dick nor Roger
dreamed how far afield they were fated to roam before once more seeing
the dear ones they had left behind. It was their avowed intention to
overtake the expedition, find Jasper Williams, get his signature,
duly witnessed, upon the paper; and then start back down the river
as fast as horses or current could take them. The young pioneers did
not suspect how they would be tempted by circumstances, and possibly
continue in the company of those gallant captains, Lewis and Clark, to
the end of their long journey toward the distant Pacific.
Once more they were able to move along with something approaching
speed, where the buffalo trails through the forest followed the river,
as often happened. These animals did not confine themselves to the vast
plains altogether, though they were to be found there in great herds;
pairs of them, often with young, sometimes frequented woody spots, as
though they sought them to be free from the companionship of their kind.
Several times, now, the boys had seen these great animals crashing
through the brush to one side. They had not attempted to shoot one,
because it was thought best, while in the country of hostile Indians,
not to fire their guns if it could be avoided, lest the unusual sound
bring trouble upon their heads. At this time the redmen west of the
Mississippi had none of the "sticks that spit out fire, and sting,"
their weapons being chiefly bows and arrows, spears, and war clubs;
though most of them carried rude knives, and tomahawks made out of
either stone, copper or some flint-like wood.
Among the things which Roger had insisted on retaining, there happened
to be an Indian bow and arrows, which he had traded for a year and
more back. By dint of much practice Roger had become quite expert in
the use of this stout bow, and could send his feathered shafts with
considerable accuracy. At home he had brought down more or less game
with his arrows, including a savage hawk that had seized a young
chicken, and flown to a tree to devour its prey.
Roger had insisted on fetching this outfit along. He had ventured the
prediction that it would come in very handy, some time or other, when
they wanted to secure a stock of fresh meat, and disliked using their
rifles.
During the balance of the morning they continued to follow the river
pretty closely, though at times they had to turn their backs on it,
since the buffalo trail they chanced to be following at the time left
the vicinity of the Missouri. Both boys were willing to be guided by
the instinct of these animals, knowing that in all probability there
must be some swampy section of ground ahead, which was thus avoided.
At about noon they halted, and ate, though not going to the trouble of
starting a fire; though either of the boys could have made one out of
wood so dry and well seasoned that the smoke would not have been seen
at any distance away, such had been their forest training.
Then once more they were on the go. The fact that the expedition had
passed here only a week or ten days ahead had given them considerable
satisfaction, for it told that they were rapidly overtaking those whom
they wanted to join.
It had been their intention to keep moving until nearly dusk, when they
expected to look for a suitable camping-place and settle down for what
they hoped would be a peaceful night.
The sun was quite low in the western heavens when Dick, who happened
to be in the advance, drew in his horse, and made a movement with his
arm that brought the other to a full stop. Both boys slipped from their
saddles, and came together, Roger with alarm written upon his face,
until he saw that his companion, while excited, looked rather pleased.
"Then it isn't Indians?" whispered Roger, laying a hand on the other's
arm.
"No," came the low reply; "but I just happened to glimpse a little band
of elk, feeding in an open glade. And as we haven't had any fresh meat
for three days the idea struck me, Roger, that perhaps this is the
chance for you to make use of your Indian bow and arrows!"
CHAPTER X
THE TWANG OF A BOWSTRING
"I'D like to do that first-rate," Roger replied, at the same time
passing hastily over to his horse, in order to get the bow, with his
quiver of arrows.
"It just happens, luckily," Dick whispered, having fastened his horse
to a tree, "that the wind is in our favor, because we're to leeward of
the elk, and they will not get scent of you creeping up."
"How about cover?" asked Roger, as, with a hand that trembled a little
in spite of his efforts to appear calm, he commenced to bend the stout
hickory bow on his knee, and slip the loop of cord over the notched end.
"You'll have to pick your own as you find it," came the reply. "I
didn't have a chance to see what it was like; but there ought to be
some way to creep close up, so as to get in a shot. I only hope you
manage to put an arrow where it will count. Some elk steaks would
taste pretty fine, let me tell you, Roger."
"I'll do my level best," was the reply of the archer, as, having
arranged the otterskin quiver over his left shoulder, so that he could
quickly pull out a second feathered shaft, should it be needed in a
hurry, he fitted the one he had retained to the bowstring, and then
prepared to advance toward the spot where Dick had noted the feeding
elk.
"Easy, now, Roger," for Dick knew the other's failings, and many a time
had his admonition stilled a tumult in the heart of the nervous lad,
causing him to get a grip on himself, and come out of some enterprise
with credit.
Roger was a born hunter, at least. Few border lads could creep up on a
suspicious quarry more quietly than he. Part of this was an inherited
trait; but he had also been much in the company of a young Indian brave
who used to visit at the St. Louis settlement before his people went
further West; and from him Roger had picked up many valuable points.
He now bent down, and glided noiselessly along until he could see
through an opening in the underbrush, when he, too, caught sight of the
elk.
The sight thrilled the young hunter, and caused him to shut his teeth
hard together as he resolved to do his very best to get in a fatal
shot. The fact that he knew his cousin would surely be watching him
seemed to lend Roger additional faculties; and when he finally dropped
down, and commenced to do his creeping, he was in a mood to excel all
previous efforts.
Once in a while, as he "snaked" his way from bush to bush, taking
advantage of every possible screen, the lad would lift his head just
a little to take an observation. And thus he learned that there were
three elk in the band, as far as he could see just then, although
others might be lying down where they were hidden from observation.
First there was the buck, a big fellow with a pair of towering antlers
that looked particularly dangerous; then there was a cow; and finally a
half-grown calf.
It was upon this last that Roger had fastened a covetous eye, for he
knew that the meat of both the older animals would very likely prove
pretty tough eating, and just then he was after a supply of food,
rather than a skin from which to make moccasins, or a new fringed
borderman's jacket.
As his cousin had said, the wind was just where he most wanted it,
blowing directly from the feeding animals toward the place where he
was edging his way along, foot by foot, careful not to make the least
movement that the elk might notice and take the alarm.
Keeping a close watch upon them now, Roger tried to suit his movements
to their own; that is, he waited until the three had their heads down
while cropping the sweet grass that grew in the glade. At such a time
he crept a little closer.
These golden opportunities did not come as frequently as he wished, for
it seemed to him as though the elk had some arrangement whereby they
took turn-about in keeping a suspicious eye around, one doing this duty
while the other two fed. Still, now and then a chance came, of which he
was always quick to make use.
Ten, fifteen minutes had passed, and by that time he felt that he was
in a position to make a fair shot if it became necessary to do so in
a hurry. He figured on trying his skill, even should the elk suddenly
take the alarm, and start to run away. Roger had practised long and
devotedly at moving targets, and delighted in being able to hit a
running animal, just as an Indian, born to the bow, might have done.
Still, he felt that he would like to get a little nearer to the
youngster before trying to get in his work. Fresh meat meant a good
deal to them just then, since it would fill a long-felt want, and at
the same time help to preserve their priceless ammunition. And under
these conditions the boy was bound to make as sure of his aim as
possible.
With most species of ordinary antelope and deer the young is called
a fawn; but even in those days, with so large an animal as an elk,
a moose, or a buffalo, it was known as a calf; and so the boys had
learned to term it.
Peering out from behind the clump of bushes that served him as his last
screen, Roger saw just one more good hiding-place close at hand, if
only the chance arose whereby he could reach it.
He did not want to lie flat on his face from now on, and wriggle along
like a crawling snake; because while in that position he would not be
able to shoot quickly, should the elk take the alarm.
So he meant to wait again until all three of the animals seemed to
be engaged in feeding, when he would creep stealthily forward. He
could keep his eye fastened on the elk, and if one of them started
to raise its head Roger would instantly become as rigid as a stump;
and possibly, if the animal noticed him at all, it would take his
motionless figure for some such harmless thing.
But fortune was very kind to the young hunter. He managed to gain the
new covert without having to halt once; which he considered a lucky
thing indeed. And it can be set down as certain that, having held his
breath pretty much all the time he was making this critical change
of base, Roger heaved a great sigh of relief when he found he had
succeeded in his undertaking, and that, so far as he could see, the
usually timid elk had not shown the least sign of alarm.
Now would come the test of skill, when he was to gradually raise
himself until on his knees, and, taking sure aim, send his
keen-pointed arrow straight at the flank of the youngster, fortunately
nearer to him than either of the others.
Roger tried to still his rapidly beating heart. Strange how excited
he always grew at a time when he needed all the coolness he could
summon. Had it been Dick, the chances were that he would be perfectly
self-possessed under similar circumstances, and able to do his level
best; whereas a fellow who finds himself trembling as with the "buck
ague" is placed under a handicap. And yet Roger had brought many a fine
deer low with his trusty gun, during all the time that he had ranged
the woods and open country in search of game for the family at home.
Having in some measure managed to get control over his nerves, he now
prepared to carry out his plans.
First of all it was necessary that the elk be feeding at the same
moment, and it seemed to the impatient Roger that one of them was on
the lookout all of the time.
But in the end his chance did come; perhaps in less time than he
imagined, for Roger was apt to count seconds as minutes when laboring
under such a strain.
No sooner had the big buck lowered his head than gradually the form of
the hunter arose from the midst of the clump of grass. The sturdy bow
was extended, clutched in a hand that no longer trembled, but was as
firm as a rock; the other started to draw back the arrow, the notched
end of which was fitted on the taut cord.
Roger could have asked for no better chance than the one now presented
to him, for by the greatest of good luck the side of the calf was
toward him, and its left foreleg advanced, giving him a splendid
opening to speed his arrow straight at a vital point behind that same
shoulder.
So Roger let fly. The hurtling shaft shot through the sunlight like
a thing of life, the eagle feathers with which it was plumed simply
showing to a practised eye the direction in which it sped.
There was heard a slight thud as the arrow struck. The calf was seen to
start violently, while both the buck and the doe looked up, and jumped
several feet.
Then all three started to run off, though it was instantly seen by the
young hunter that the calf faltered, and grew weak from the effect of
the death-dealing barb that had pierced its side.
Roger had instinctively thrown up his hand and drawn another arrow from
his quiver, which he was even then adjusting to his bowstring. He had
several reasons for doing this. In the first place his hunter instinct
advised him that it was always best to be on the safe side; for there
could be no telling but what that savage old buck would get over his
fright, and turn to offer battle to the enemy. And in that open place,
with not even a friendly tree to offer him refuge from those ugly
antlers, Roger had no heart for the job of meeting an enraged beast,
capable of doing him serious damage before Dick could come to the
rescue with his rifle.
But the young elk had evidently received a fatal wound, for it ran only
a dozen yards, when it began to stagger.
Just then, as Roger, having fitted his second arrow, was in the act of
taking a swift aim, so as to be ready to make assurance doubly certain,
to his astonishment he heard a peculiar twang that sounded like the
snap of a bowstring.
And, as he arose to his feet to start forward after the wounded
animal, just falling to the ground, he believed that he saw a second
arrow sticking from its side.
The first instinct of the hunter is to make sure of his quarry; and so
Roger hastened to run forward. He kept a wary eye on the other elk,
however, to see that the possessor of those tremendous antlers did not
turn back, with the idea of giving battle to the strange enemy on two
legs, so different from the four-footed wolves and panthers which he
had known in the past.
But somehow this did not come to pass. Either the buck failed to grasp
the full nature of the disaster that had befallen his little family;
or else, catching a whiff of human foes about that time, fear had
dominated valor. At any rate he sped out of sight, with the frightened
doe ahead of him--at least the buck was gallant enough to hang back,
and protect the rear.
Roger went as fast as he could toward the fallen calf, pleased to know
that he had been so successful in his little hunt, and that they would
have fresh meat for some time to come.
As he ran he seemed to understand, as though through instinct, that
there was some one else pushing ahead on one side of him; but, being
in such desperate haste to plant a foot on the fallen game first, he
could not even take the time to look.
He heard a distant whoop from Dick, which, however, fell on deaf ears
if it was intended as a warning. Roger was an obstinate boy, and,
having taken a notion to accomplish a certain thing, he could not be
easily discouraged or influenced to give up his design.
There the young elk lay, and in plain sight, so that, rushing up, Roger
had no difficulty in placing his right foot on the still quivering
body, by that act making it known to whoever disputed his claim that he
intended to stand by his rights.
It happened that the animal had fallen so that its wounded side lay
uppermost, and one of the first things the young hunter noticed was
the fact that there were _two_ arrows deeply imbedded there; his
own well-known eagle-feathered shaft, and one that had the token of
the gray goose fastened to its end in a peculiar circling manner,
calculated to influence its steadiness of flight.
Then, casting his eyes up, Roger saw the figure of his
rival--apparently an Indian, though dressed in tanned buckskin after
the manner of white hunters, and gripping a bow in his left hand.
The other was staring hard at the boy, as though astounded to find
himself face to face with a young paleface, never before known in this
particular section.
And there they stood, each with a foot advanced, and a look of defiance
on their faces, as though ready to dispute title to the possession of
the dead elk.
CHAPTER XI
"ALL, OR NONE!"
"GAME mine!"
When the dark-faced man in the fringed buckskin said these two words in
an angry tone, Roger felt something of a shock. He looked closer, and
realized that possibly the other hunter might _not_ be an Indian after
all, but one of those half-breeds who sometimes made their homes with
the tribes, and again sought the company of the whites, either English
or French.
"Oh! is that so?" the boy answered back, in a satirical tone; "well,
just prove it to me then, and I'll throw up my claim."
He kept his arrow fitted to the bowstring all the time, and aimed
directly toward the breast of the other. Should the necessity have
arisen he could have sped the shaft like lightning, even at such close
range, for it only requires one quick movement of the arm to do this.
The man pointed to the arrow that was just back of the fallen elk's
shoulder.
"Put there--in heart--bring game down every time!" he ejaculated, with
the most refreshing impudence imaginable, that made the boy looked
amazed, then furious, and finally laugh outright.
"Oh! is that your dodge, then?" he exclaimed. "You claim that as your
arrow, do you? Well, suppose you show me another just like it. Every
one of mine is tipped with eagle feathers, and made by the son of a
chief; while yours are lined with the quills of a wild gray goose. That
ought to be proof enough to settle the matter."
"My elk!" growled the other, with a glitter in his black eyes that
boded ill for the boy, should he be caught off his guard.
But Roger knew well that his cousin must by now have unhitched both
horses, and be hurrying up, intent on taking a hand in the affair, if
necessary. Besides, he was in the habit of looking out for himself in
such matters.
There is probably nothing that ever angered a borderer, young or old,
more, than to have his right and title to certain game he had shot
disputed by a rival claimant, when the evidence was all in favor of
the first hunter.
Many a fatal quarrel has been recorded in the history of the frontier
through this very same thing, where two men have crept up on their
quarry, unknown to each other, and fired at about the same time. Each
always rested under the belief that his missile was the one that
brought the game down; or, even if this were not so, that he could have
sent in a second shot which would have accomplished the end he had in
view.
But Roger was a fair and square sort of lad, also generous in the
extreme.
He could realize how keenly disappointed any one must be at finding
another just ahead when the final test came. It was his design to prove
his claim to the young elk, so that none could dispute it; and then
offer to divide.
"Listen to me," he said, trying to speak impressively. "We may have
crept up on the game at the same time; but I chanced to shoot first. My
arrow struck there, and entered the animal's heart. That was a fatal
wound. The beast had almost come to a full stop, and was staggering,
ready to drop, when I heard your bowstring twang. Besides, your arrow
entered in the body; and, as it was, without any other hurt, the elk
would have run far before dropping. You know that as well as I do. And
so it is my game."
"Ugh! better not try keep elk!" grunted the other, while his fingers
were seen to twitch as he gripped his bow; but he had not taken time
to fit another arrow after letting loose, and so the white boy had a
decided advantage over him, which those restless black eyes had not
failed to note.
"Now, I'll tell you what I'd be willing to do, because I know how hard
it is to go through all that work of creeping up, and then lose the
game. I've proved that my arrow killed the elk; but I'm willing to go
halves with you! How does that suit?"
When Roger said this he knew Dick was coming, and that, as he
undoubtedly would be holding his rifle ready in his hands, he could
make quick use of it should the necessity arise. So that it was
certainly not fear that induced him to offer to hand over half of the
game to the rival claimant.
But apparently the dark-faced man was not the kind to appreciate such
generosity. With him it was a matter of all, or none. He knew well
that by rights he had no sort of claim to the game, but hoped to bully
the boy into abandoning his just claims.
"My game!" he replied doggedly; "see first, and shoot before same
fall. What business you have here in hunting land of Shoshones? If I
tell chief, Running Antelope, he soon find, and have scalp hanging in
wigwam!"
"Oh! I guess not," remarked Roger, thinking that it might be best to
let this other, who must be friendly with the hostile Indians, believe
that he and Dick were only the forerunners of a large party; "for my
friends would come up in numbers, and burn the village of Running
Antelope, if he so much as injured a hair on my head. But here is my
hunter companion; let us see what he says."
When the half-breed turned his head, and saw what a well-armed fellow
Dick was, as well as noted the look on his face, he drew back a step,
as though realizing that his absurd claim on the quarry would never
have a ghost of a show at making good. If one white boy could not be
browbeaten, there was little chance that he could bully a pair of them.
"What's all this about, Roger?" asked Dick, as he jumped from his
horse, rifle in hand, and pressed the weapon of his cousin into the
other's willing hands; for, after all, a gun felt much better than a
bow, when there was need for action.
"Settle this matter, Dick," observed the young hunter, eagerly. "I shot
first, and you can see my arrow sticking just back of the shoulder. It
must have reached a vital place, for the beast was just staggering,
ready to fall, when I heard his bowstring sound--and you can see where
he struck. That elk would have run one or two miles with a hurt through
the body like this; because we have seen deer do the same. Am I right,
Dick?"
"Every word of it is the truth, Roger," replied the other, quietly, but
at the same time positively.
"And," Roger went on, "you can see whose arrow it is that did the
business, Dick; because mine are feathered with eagle plumes, while his
all have the gray goose quills fastened on the shaft, circling it so as
to give the arrow a whirling motion as it passes through the air."
"The proof is everything that any honest man would ask to back up your
claim," Dick continued; "but what were you offering to do when I came
up? I heard him say that it was his game, and saw him shake his head as
if he refused an offer."
"Why, I didn't want to be stingy about it, and offered to share and
share alike with him," replied Roger. "That was fair enough, since the
whole of the game belongs to me by the law of the woods."
"I should say it was," his cousin exclaimed, turning again to the
half-breed, who stood there, moodily listening to this talk, and
shooting black looks at the pair of white boys.
"And then he started to threaten me, saying that if he carried the news
of our being here in the land of the fierce Shoshones to their big
chief, Running Antelope, he would come with his braves, and make us
prisoners, so that our hair would hang in the lodges of the Indians.
That's a nice way to answer a fellow, Dick, when he makes an offer like
that. It was just like a slap in the face."
"Just so, Roger; and for one I think you ought to take it back, after
the way he answered you," Dick went on, frowning at the dark-faced man.
"He says all or none, does he? Very good, let it be none, then. We can
use this young elk nicely, and you earned the prize. I never saw a
better stalk in my life."
"And," remarked Roger, still meaning to impress the half-breed with the
idea that they were only the skirmishers of a large party of whites
that was advancing up the Missouri, "some of the rest of our friends
would be glad of a chance to put their teeth into such tender juicy
meat as this, eh, Dick?"
Of course Dick guessed instantly what object his cousin had in making
such a queer remark, but he was too wise to say anything to the
contrary. In fact he thought so well of the little scheme himself that
he smiled, and nodded his head as he remarked:
"Well, I should think they would, Roger; anybody'd like a meal of such
tender meat. And now, who may you be? I don't suppose your name is
Lascelles, is it?" and he turned upon the half-breed as he asked this
sudden question.
A flash of intelligence, when that name was mentioned, passed over the
dark face of the other; but he shook his head in the negative.
"Not Lascelles. Know same though. Name Batiste Dupuy. Trapper,
trader, voyageur from the North. Friend of Running Antelope, and the
Cheyennes. They give right to hunt, trap all through this country.
Paleface boys no business shoot elk. My game! Must have all or none.
Ugh!"
If his name was Batiste Dupuy, as he claimed, the half-breed must have
lived a good part of his life among the redmen, for he had copied many
of their ways. His knowledge of English seemed rather meagre, for he
could hardly find suitable means whereby to express himself; for, while
he spoke, he made many violent gestures, that were intended to add
vigor to his few words.
"Then make up your mind you're going to have none," said Roger, now
growing angry himself at the arrogance of the fellow. "If you want your
arrow, here it is; but not an ounce of the elk meat do you get."
He jerked the shaft feathered with the quills of the gray goose from
its lodging-place in the side of the dead elk, and handed it out toward
the other. The man condescended to take it, but immediately broke it
across his knee, as though by such violent means he expected them to
understand that he intended to be their inveterate foe from that time
forth.
"Go! Get out of this!" cried the impetuous Roger, pointing with his
quivering finger. "And just remember, Monsieur Dupuy, we have long
rifles here, and know how to drive a nail at thirty paces; so that, if
you try to do us any harm, it will be at your peril. That is all."
An Indian might have said, "I have spoken!" but Roger's way was just as
expressive, accompanied as it was by that sweep of the hand.
The man's eyes narrowed until they seemed to be mere slits, as
he glared at the bold young speaker. Then he flung his head in a
disdainful gesture, and remarked with a sneer:
"Never before did Batiste Dupuy take orders from a cub. Huh! wait
and see who laughs loudest. Mebbe Batiste, his hour will come soon.
Lascelles, you said?--it may be I know same; and he much glad to hear
of you! Sacre! that is all I say!"
With that he made them a mocking bow, showing that he surely had French
blood in his veins, and, whirling on his moccasined heel, strode
angrily away.
After going a certain distance he turned and looked toward them, as
if measuring the intervening space. Roger even thought he could see
him fitting an arrow to his bowstring and at once half raised his
rifle threateningly. If Batiste had intended trying a shot at them, he
speedily abandoned his idea when he saw how ready they were to send
their lead in his direction. He must have known that pioneer boys were
quite at home with their long-barreled guns, and could snip off the
swaying head of a wild turkey, buried in the earth to its neck, at the
annual shoots where the best marksmen came together to compete.
At any rate, he contented himself with shaking his fist in their
direction, and then moving away again.
"A good riddance to bad rubbish!" exclaimed Roger, though evidently
pleased to see the last of the ruffian.
"And we'd better be getting away from here as soon as we can," remarked
Dick, better able than his impulsive companion to understand what this
chance encounter, and the making of an enemy, might mean for them.
"But he knows that François Lascelles, Dick; you heard him say so!"
Roger remarked, as he started to fasten his horse, so that they could
cut up the game as speedily as possible, and ride away, one of them
meanwhile standing guard, so that the half-breed might not sneak up
close enough to use his bow on them.
"Yes, I guessed that he might, for they belong to the same class," the
other observed, thoughtfully. "Perhaps Lascelles has bought pelts from
this rover, and they may be the best of friends. And, if he knows that
the French trader is anywhere around here now, be sure he will try to
get word to him as fast as he can, to tell about our coming. And from
now on we will have to be on our guard every minute of the day and
night, looking for an attack from either the Indians, or the party of
the Frenchman. They did not seem to know just how many started out with
Lascelles and his son, but it must have been several."
"And of the same stripe as himself," remarked Roger, starting to take
the skin from the young elk with a skill that had been attained only
through long practice. "Remember what our fathers said, Dick; day and
night we must keep watch for the silent foe that would crawl up on us
unseen, and catch us napping!"
CHAPTER XII
THE HIDDEN CAMP
THERE remained only an hour or so of daylight after Roger had secured
the best parts of the carcass of the young elk, and fastened the bundle
of fresh meat to his saddle.
Dick knew that they must be more than ordinarily careful where they
spent the night, because the chances were the vindictive half-breed
would be scouring the country looking for signs of them. If they were
incautious about building the cooking fire, his sharp eyes would be
sure to discover their location; and, should that occur, they could
expect trouble.
The thing that worried them most of all was the possible theft of their
mounts. That the packhorse had been stolen was not a matter of such
importance, for they could get on without an additional animal; but in
regard to their saddle horses the case was vastly different.
It would be next to impossible to overtake the expedition on foot, as
they had learned before now. In following the river, there were times
when, on account of bad ground, they had to cover five miles in order
to make one of progress. And all this time the hardy voyageurs who were
boatmen for Captain Lewis would be urging their craft forward with the
skill and ability peculiar to their kind.
This being the case, Dick was bent on finding some hiding-place for
a camp, where they could be additionally secure, and the horses kept
within close reach.
"No fire to-night, unless we can hide it," he announced to his
companion, when they were once more moving along, keeping a constant
lookout for foes, and at the same time on the alert for the nook that
would meet their requirements for a camp.
Roger groaned.
"Then I do hope we'll be lucky enough to find a good place," he
remarked, as he redoubled his efforts to make the discovery; "because
I'm hungry for a bite of this fine young elk. Why, it's been three days
now, or even more, since I put a tooth in fresh meat. This tough old
pemmican is as hard as flint, and next to tasteless."
"But you know what our mother would say, Roger about looking a gift
horse in the mouth. If we could get nothing better, this same dried
venison would keep us alive; and when you're real hungry it doesn't
seem so very bad."
"Oh, well, perhaps not, Dick," admitted the other; "and I've seen times
when it tasted pretty good; but after being on that pemmican for three
days, and with a young elk in hand, it would be hard if we couldn't
have a fire to-night."
"Let's hope that the chance turns up, then," remarked Dick, cheerfully.
"And about this same pemmican, you know that the Indians live pretty
much all winter on it. Besides, when a brave is sent a hundred or
two miles across country, to carry a message to the chief of another
tribe, all he takes along with him is a little dried meat in his ditty
bag, that he munches once in a while, drinking at the springs he runs
across on the way. I believe an Indian runner could keep on from the
Mississippi to the ocean just that way, carrying all he needed to eat
in a package not larger than my head."
They kept pushing on, making as good time as the nature of the rough
ground permitted; while the sun dropped out of sight, and dusk began
to gather around them.
Roger was really beginning to despair, and feared that they would have
to pass a fireless night, one keeping constantly on guard while the
other slept, so that the horses might be protected, when a sudden low
exclamation from his companion thrilled him.
"What is it, Dick?" he asked, nervously fingering his gun, which he
kept in his hand as he rode along; "did you see any one skulking in the
shadows?"
"Oh! no, not that, Roger," replied his cousin, cheerfully; "but, unless
I miss my guess, we've come to a fine place to make our camp; and, if
things turn out as well as I expect, there ought to be a chance for a
small fire, enough of a blaze to cook some of your meat by."
"Good! You make me feel happy again, Dick!" exclaimed the other,
eagerly; "but show me where you've made this discovery."
"Look over in that direction, and you can see the rocks piled up,"
Dick went on. "It seems to me that we ought to find a hiding-place
among them, where we can pitch our little camp. Of course it means that
we must come down, and pull all the grass the horses will need, and
perhaps take them to water, too; but that is nothing to worry over, if
only we pass the night without an attack."
It turned out as Dick predicted, for they did find a splendid nook in
the midst of the rocks, where they could be safe from observation. And
Roger soon discovered the very spot for the little fire.
Both the young pioneers were soon as busy as beavers, for there was
much to be done. The horses had been watered before coming up among the
rocks, so that would not have to be attended to again. Dick went down,
and started to pull grass, which he carried in armfuls up to where
the horses had been secured; and once the faithful beasts started to
contentedly munch at their supper, there was no reason why they should
give any more trouble.
Meanwhile Roger had started the fire. It was only an apology for one,
and offered little cheer; but on this occasion the boys were not
thinking of sitting around a blaze, toasting their feet, and watching
the sparks fly upward, to "tell all creation of their presence," as
Roger expressed it. All they wanted was sufficient heat to cook the
meat and make a pot of tea, after which the fire would be allowed to
go out.
Roger knew how to cook better than most lads of his age, and Dick
always let him have full swing when out on their numerous hunting
trips. Considering the few appliances for comfort which hunters in
those days carried with them, the boys got on splendidly. If there was
no frying-pan handy they could thrust small portions of meat on the
ends of long splinters of wood, and in this fashion manage to obtain
what was to them a satisfying meal.
The tender elk meat pleased them both, and Roger was kept busy with
"repeat orders" for some time. But finally they cared for no more;
after which the red embers of the cooking fire were covered with earth,
and the last sign of human presence obliterated, even the odor of
supper passing away with the disappearance of the heat.
Later on, Roger lay down in his blanket and slept soundly, while Dick
sat, gun in hand, and watched. Long did the hours seem, and many times
no doubt some cry from a night bird would startle the sentry, always
suspicious lest this might be a signal uttered by some creeping Indian
to tell his mates that he had made a discovery.
When the stars had given notice that the time for his vigil was at an
end, Dick woke the other, and from that hour on to daybreak Roger sat
silent, watchful, and faithful.
But there was no alarm, and with the coming of dawn they shook hands
over the fact that they had managed to elude the search which Dupuy had
made for their camp, during much of the night.
Again was a fire started, with the aid of the ever handy flint
and steel. Had the boys had the misfortune to lose these almost
indispensable articles, Roger knew how to create a tiny blaze with
the aid of a small bow and a twirling stick. This trick he had been
taught by an old traveler, who declared he had seen the natives do the
same far away on islands in the East Indies. But, although Roger could
accomplish the feat, it was always a difficult thing to do, and he
much preferred the ordinary method of making fire from sparks made by
striking flint against steel.
Finally, having loaded the horses again, and in a better fashion than
before, the boys were ready to make a fresh start.
Roger wondered whether they would chance to run across the half-breed
anywhere.
"He looked so angry," he said, as they started away from the rocky
fortress that had made them such a capital camp, "that I believe he
would think nothing of sending one of his arrows into my back as I
passed some secret hiding-place; or use his rifle, if he had one
somewhere at the time he started to creep up on the elk, the same way I
did, wishing to save his ammunition."
"Then let us hope we will see nothing of him," observed Dick; but all
the same he was a little nervous as they rode on.
And, after all, Roger's fears were not without foundation, for a short
time later, as they were cantering along, they heard the twang of a
bowstring. Both boys involuntarily ducked. They never knew just how
close the arrow came, but both heard the hiss as it passed, and then a
thud as it struck a tree.
"Run for it!" exclaimed Dick, as he dug his heels into the sides of his
horse, and, bending low in the saddle, went flying forward at an almost
reckless pace.
Roger followed close behind, grumbling as he rode; but there were no
more arrows, and in a short time they were able to sit upright again,
although Dick continued to urge his animal to make more speed.
"That was too bad, Dick," complained Roger; "it makes my blood boil
to think of the two of us running away from only one. We could have
turned, and placed him between two fires, so that it would soon seem
pretty hot for the coward. Why did you run away?"
"There were a good many reasons, Roger," answered the other, who was
quite used to these exhibitions of recklessness on the part of his
cousin, and always made it a point to explain the motives that actuated
his conduct, so that the other might profit by his caution. "First
of all, we could not tell how many enemies there were around us. If
we had waited, we might have been surrounded by a dozen Shoshones or
Cheyennes, and either killed or taken prisoners. And then again, Roger,
I never want to forget that we are the messengers of our fathers, sent
on a most important mission. If we choose to take unnecessary risks,
and that paper never comes back signed by Jasper Williams, think of
the consequences that are apt to follow. So you see that it is a wise
thing for us to take no chances. We promised our mothers that, Roger;
don't forget again, when tempted to risk everything to please your own
feelings."
"Dick, you're right, just as you always are, and I'm sorry I spoke that
way. Yes, it would have been foolish to turn and try to punish that
skulking half-breed. And he did no damage after all with his spinning
arrow. Did you hear what a whistling noise it made as it passed over?"
"That was caused by the feathers being placed in a sort of winding way,
so as to make the arrow whirl as it flew," Dick explained. "It made me
think of the duck we call a whistler, whose wings make a sound as it
flies such as you can make by blowing in a hollow reed. But we seem
to have outdistanced the enemy now, and perhaps it would be safe to
breathe the horses a little."
They pushed on during the whole of that day without once meeting any
difficulty; although there were times when they found themselves
compelled to make wide detours in order to avoid bad stretches of
ground, or sloughs, where the footing was treacherous for the horses.
(Note 3.)
On this account they did not make the progress impetuous Roger would
have wished for, although his companion declared himself satisfied.
"Better luck, perhaps, to-morrow," he would say, whenever Roger
complained; and thus the latter was shamed out of his mood.
That night they found a place to camp that was totally unlike the
fortress amidst the rocks, but offered them just as secure a refuge.
And again they saw daylight come without any alarm.
So three days passed away, and it was now to be hoped that they would
see nothing more of the half-breed. Dick remained on his guard, all the
same, for he did not mean to be caught napping.
The nature of the country had changed again, and, instead of the woods
or rocky bluffs which they had left farther down the river, they now
found themselves looking out on vast stretches of level prairie, where
the tall grass waved in the breeze until it resembled the waters of
a wide sea; and in places innumerable wild flowers dotted it like
splashes of paint, making a picture that even boys could admire.
Here they would be apt to come upon many novel things, of which they
may have heard wandering trappers speak, but which up to recently they
had hardly expected to see for themselves.
At the same time there would be ever-increasing danger of their being
discovered by some hand of red hunters, stalking antelope or bison, and
ready to leave their hunting for a more convenient season if they saw
a chance to capture palefaces, with their wonderful "shooting-sticks,"
which in those days were a source of great bewilderment to the Indians
west of the Mississippi.
But nevertheless, in spite of the constant presence of peril, the two
lads enjoyed the experience, and had no regrets about having started on
the adventurous mission, since they were at the same time serving those
they loved so well, and satisfying the craving for excitement that
seems to be a part of almost every boy's nature.
CHAPTER XIII
ON THE BILLOWY PRAIRIE
DURING this day there was hardly a stretch of half an hour but Dick and
Roger made some new and interesting discovery. Now it was a little herd
of antelope that, scenting the presence of human enemies on the wind,
sprang from the grass where they had been lying, and went off with
graceful bounds that awoke the ardent admiration of Dick, while Roger
aimed his gun after them, though he was not foolish enough to waste
precious ammunition when his good sense told him he had not a ghost of
a show to bring the game down.
A little later they stumbled upon a village of prairie dogs, the first
either of the boys had ever set eyes on. In fact, the first sign they
had of the settlement was when one of the horses broke through into a
burrow, and came near throwing its rider, or breaking a leg.
Then there was a great clatter as scores of the queer little fellows
started to bark, and then vanish inside their burrows, from which they
later cautiously thrust their noses, curious to see what these strange
intruders were like.
"Better slow down to a walk until we are clear of this place," warned
Dick, as he suited his action to his words. "Did you ever see such a
sight, Roger? There must be thousands of these little chaps around
here; and hear the fierce way they bark at us before they run indoors."
"I wonder if they are good to eat?" asked the practical Roger, for the
elk meat was all gone, and he had begun to wonder what they might find
next.
"I'm sure I don't know," his cousin replied; "and I wouldn't like to
try before I saw some one else eat one. The Indians are very fond of
baked dog, you know; but I never heard that it was this breed. Better
give that idea up, Roger; a little later we may find a chance to knock
over one of those fast-running antelope, or else get a young buffalo
calf for a change."
"That sounds good enough for me," remarked the other; "and so I think
I'll let the prairie dogs alone just now. But look there, isn't that a
rattlesnake lying in the sun outside that burrow?"
"Just what it is," Dick answered, quickly. "Which reminds me that I've
been told that the snakes seem to occupy the burrows along with the
dogs. Perhaps they've got some sort of arrangement between them; or
else the prairie dog isn't afraid of the poison of the rattlesnake.
See, there's another, yes, and even a third one, much larger than any
of the rest!"
"Ugh! wouldn't I hate to have to walk through this village in the
dark!" Roger exclaimed, with a shudder, as they passed several more
snakes lying in the warm sunshine, not at all bothered by the thud of
horses' hoofs.
"It's a bad job going through it, even on horseback, and in the
daytime," Dick observed, "because you have to watch closely to keep
from having the animal break through the roof of a burrow; and, first
thing you know, one of those nasty rattlesnakes might be striking at
the horse's legs. It would be a shame to lose so valuable an animal in
that way, when we need them both so badly."
That caused Roger to awaken to the fact that he was not paying as much
attention to his progress through the populous town as he should; and,
having had his fears aroused, he now began to keep a close watch for
signs of trouble ahead.
Being thus fully on their guard they were able to reach the border of
the prairie dog settlement without having met with any disaster; and,
the last they saw of it, several of the boldest of the natives had
crept out of their burrows, and seemed to be "barking them a farewell,"
as Roger laughingly said.
While they were jealous concerning their ammunition, hoarding it
against a possible emergency, they seldom lost an opportunity to wet a
line in the great river, whenever their camp was close by the bank.
Roger always carried hooks and lines along with him, so that on the
present occasion he was well equipped to capture all the finny prizes
they needed for food.
Many a night, while Dick slept, the other would sit on the river
bank, with his line in his hand, waiting for a bite, and seldom did
his vigilance go unrewarded, so that they had fish for breakfast on
numerous occasions.
It happened that once again they discovered a place where undoubtedly
the expedition they were following must have waited over night. There
were the plain tracks of horses' hoofs, and also the ashes of several
fires, for, being in such numbers, the explorers of the Missouri did
not feel compelled to hide whenever they made camp, in order to keep
their location a secret from spying eyes.
Of course Roger asked his companion to try to find out from various
signs, which could be readily picked up, whether they were now any
closer to the column than on that other occasion, when they rested in
the abandoned camp of the explorers.
This Dick did in a most thorough fashion, and, after concluding his
labors, he announced it as his belief that they had indeed gained
another day.
"Is that all?" remarked Roger, evidently disappointed; and from his
manner one might believe he had expected to hear Dick say they would
overtake Captain Lewis by another day or so.
"On my part," declared Dick, "I think that we are doing as well as we
ought to expect. All I ask is that things go right along as they have
been doing. We are seeing some wonderful sights while we keep on the
move each day. And, besides, you forget, Roger, that the sooner we
come up with the expedition, the sooner we must be taking the back
trail. Now that we're away out here in this strange country I'd like to
see all I can of it."
"Yes, that's so," Roger replied, nodding his head to show that he quite
agreed with his cousin; "and, do you know, Dick, if only we could find
some safe way to get that paper home, after it has been signed by
Jasper Williams, I'd like nothing better than to keep right on with
Captain Lewis, and go with him all the way to the ocean. Oh! what a
glorious thing that would be; and what strange sights we would see when
we got to the mountains we've heard so much about, that they say reach
far up into the clouds, and abound in all sorts of game, such as can be
found nowhere else."
Dick himself heaved a sigh, on hearing his companion speak in that way.
"Yes, that would be almost too good for us to enjoy, Roger," he said,
"much as we might wish it to come true. Our first duty is to make sure
that the paper gets to our grandfather, since so much depends on it.
I wouldn't take any chance about its safe delivery, because we would
never forgive ourselves if it went astray."
"But, Dick, if we found that Captain Lewis meant to dispatch some of
his men over the back trail, with an important message of his own,
telling President Jefferson what success he had met with so far,
couldn't we trust the paper in their charge?"
"Well, we won't discuss that unless the opportunity comes," the
other remarked; for, to tell the truth, the temptation was almost
irresistible, even to steady, reliable Dick Armstrong. Both boys
possessed a strong yearning for exploration, and during their various
hunts they had sought out new fields in every direction, whenever it
was at all possible.
Another temptation had come to Roger with almost every hour of the day.
This was the presence of innumerable prairie hens that were flying up
from the long grass in every direction, as the horses passed along.
Roger kept his bow and arrows handy, and was frequently tempted to make
use of them in trying for some of these plump and edible fowl, which
often presented what looked like easy shots; but Dick was for hurrying,
and did not wish to delay, at any time, long enough for his companion
to creep up on the "chickens."
But when they rested at noon, or in the early evening stopped to make
camp, Roger would be denied his pleasure no longer, but started to
stalk some of the ever present birds.
Nor was success wanting, for he succeeded in sending his feathered
shafts through a brace of plump hens, which they managed to cook over
a fire that was built in a hole dug in the ground, so that the flame
might not be seen afar and draw the attention they sought to avoid.
Another day saw them crossing a wide stretch of the prairie, to avoid
a slough that seemed to extend for many miles along the border of the
river.
It had been a rather warm day, and several times they had eyed the
heavens, as if half expecting that the clouds would gather and send
down a deluge of rain. Up to now they had been singularly fortunate in
having escaped many storms, and it chanced that those that did come had
found the young explorers in some snug shelter. To be caught out on the
open might not turn out to be such a pleasant thing for them.
Although they had now been on the march for weeks, neither of the
boys seemed to feel in any way anxious for their journey to end, save
that Roger's impatience occasionally leaped beyond bounds; for he kept
wondering whether they would find Jasper Williams after all, and their
mission prove a success.
There were so many new sights to look upon as they went on, that
it seemed as though they were continually expecting novel things.
Around the settlement it had been pretty much all woods, so that this
wonderful prairie was a source of never-ending delight to both lads,
filling them with something of the same awe that one who is accustomed
to the interior feels when first he sets eyes on the great ocean.
"I hope, though, we can make the river by to-morrow," Roger was saying
when the sun seemed to be well down in the sky, and it looked certain
that they were to make camp again in the open.
"Chances are that it lies away over yonder, where you can just see a
fringe of something that must be trees," Dick observed, pointing as he
spoke.
"And miles away at that, so there's no use in trying for it to-day,"
Roger said.
He was feeling a little provoked, for, after begging his companion to
hold up half an hour for him, when he thought he saw a chance to stalk
a small band of antelopes that afternoon, Roger had spent considerable
time and energy in creeping through the grass, and getting behind a
_motte_ of timber that grew around some little slough, only to see the
timid animals flying away when he thought he must be close enough to
use his bow.
He had taken revenge, however, in shooting several prairie chickens,
although, having once "made up his mouth" for venison, this was a
poor substitute, good eating though the birds had proved on the other
occasion.
"It lies to the west of us," Dick chanced to say, as they looked toward
the low fringe along the horizon which, as he had said, must be trees,
and evidently bordering the river.
Later, Dick had occasion to congratulate himself that he had taken
notice of the exact quarter where those trees seemed to lie, as he saw
them just before sunset.
Once again they dug a hole, in which Roger expected to cook the prairie
fowl which had fallen to his skill as an archer. Dick saw to the
staking of the two horses, and made them additionally secure.
The clouds still hung overhead, and it would be strange if the night
passed, he believed, without some sort of storm breaking over the
prairie. The boys began to wish that they had their Indian tent along,
for, old though it was, in a heavy downpour not a drop of water
penetrated it.
Dick made preparations looking to a change of base if the threatening
storm proved severe. He insisted that the bundles be kept almost
intact, so that they could be fastened on the backs of the horses
without the customary delay. That proved to be another fortunate move
on the part of the boy, and for which he had much cause to be thankful.
The supper was finally prepared, though the fire had to be made as
before from dead grass and dry buffalo chips, and was anything but a
joy to Roger, accustomed as he had always been to plenty of good fuel.
Though they might have had the benefit of a fair moon but for the
clouds, the latter were so dense that the night seemed inky dark. The
usual noises of crickets and katydids and other insects appeared to be
hushed, so that a strange silence rested on the wide expanse around
them.
They were tired, and lay down soon after eating, not knowing how long
they would have a chance to sleep before the coming of the storm
disturbed them again. Dick, in fact, hardly expected to even doze, for
he felt that some sort of watch should be kept; but, after lying there
a while, his eyes gradually closed, and almost before he was aware of
what was coming he went to sleep.
Neither of the boys ever knew how much time passed in this way when
they were aroused by the growling of thunder, as they believed; and,
sitting up, Dick called out to his companion:
"It's coming at last, Roger!"
"Yes, I heard it; but what are we going to do?" answered the other,
fretfully; for the prospect of getting a wet jacket was not very
inviting.
"We'll have to stand it, I guess; grin and bear it, as father says,"
Dick returned, being much more philosophical than Roger.
"But some of our bundles will be soaked," declared Roger.
"We can't help that; and I've made sure to wrap our extra ammunition
in the waterproof cloth, so as to save it. Both of us have our horns
filled with powder, which will be sure to keep dry, no matter how we
are drenched. I think I could jump into the river, and stay there an
hour, without a drop getting into that good old horn father gave me
long ago, and which he used himself when a boy."
In this fashion did Dick seek to buoy up the low spirits of his
companion.
"It's getting closer, Dick, and that thunder is rattling pretty steady,
seems to me. I'm sorry for both of us, because we're due for a fine
ducking. I hope the horses don't get frightened, if the storm is a
bad one, and break their ropes. Hadn't we better bring them in close
by, Dick? Looks like we've got to worry over our mounts, one way or
another, right along. First it's Indians stealing them; then the chance
of some panther jumping the beasts for a meal; and now a stampede, if
the lightning flashes too brightly, or the thunder breaks over us with
a roar. How about it, Dick?"
"It wouldn't be a bad idea to get them in here, and keep hold of the
ropes," the other replied; "horses are always more contented if they
find themselves near human beings in a storm, so I've heard. So come
on, then!"
They were now on their feet. The blackness of the night still held
good, only every little while a flash of lightning along the horizon
whence the storm was coming dispelled it for a brief interval, when
they could see a long distance away.
Just as they started to get the horses Dick noticed that the distant
rumbling sound had grown heavier. Suddenly he stood still, and clutched
the sleeve of his companion's tunic.
"Roger, perhaps that isn't thunder we hear, after all!" he exclaimed,
with a catch in his voice, as though the presence of some new and never
before experienced danger influenced him.
"Why, what could it be then?" demanded the other, instantly.
"Oh! look! look yonder!" cried Dick.
Just then another friendly flash of lightning illuminated the heavens,
and for the space of several seconds the prairie was lighted up almost
like day. And the two pioneer boys, staring toward the region where the
storm seemed brooding, saw a spectacle that chilled their blood, it was
so wonderful, so full of tremendous possibilities for evil!
CHAPTER XIV
THE BUFFALO STAMPEDE
FAR away, it seemed as though the whole surface of the prairie was in
motion. To the right and left the boys had seen the same bewildering
sight. Roger failed to comprehend what it meant, and turned to his
companion for an explanation.
"What is it, Dick?" he called out.
"Buffaloes--one of those great herds we've been told about, and which
stretches as far as the eye can reach!" the other replied.
"But will they come this way; and ought we saddle up so as to be ready
to make a run for it?" Roger continued; not because he was timid, but
that the sight of that endless, heaving mass of moving animals had
impressed him strongly.
"Yes, I think we should," Dick replied. "If the storm comes along
after them, and starts a stampede, as they call it, we would stand in
danger of being trampled under ten thousand hoofs. No one could ever
tell what had become of us. So let's roll up our blankets, and get the
horses; quick, Roger, because they're heading in our direction, and
coming right along."
Indeed, even as they brought the snorting horses in, and started to
fasten the loads on their backs, the rumble had increased to a steady
roar, so that it seemed to Roger he could actually feel the ground
vibrate under the pounding of those myriad of hoofs, as the heavy
animals galloped toward the river.
Whenever the lightning flashed, and this was more frequently than
before, with peals of thunder following, both boys found themselves
compelled to shoot quick glances of both curiosity and alarm toward the
advancing peril. And what they saw was a sight never to be forgotten.
It was like the border of a troubled sea, that tremendous line of
moving animal life, heaving and tossing, and coming steadily on like a
dust cloud impelled by the wind. As yet they could not distinguish the
units comprising this immense whole; but it was easy to imagine them,
for both boys had shot buffaloes before now, and knew what they were
like, though they had never looked upon a herd of more than half a
dozen at a time.
"Oh! there must be millions in that lot!" cried Roger, when a
particularly vivid flash came, that showed them the whole level stretch
covered with the advancing horde as far as their eyes could reach.
"Too many for us to stay here, and try to divide!" Dick answered.
"How lucky that you noticed where the trees grew along the river," said
Roger; "because that will be our best chance, don't you think, Dick?"
"Yes, and the sooner we're off the better," was the other's answer.
He knew that their horses must still be tired from the long journey
of the day before, and, laden as they were, might not be able to run
as swiftly as under other conditions. Just how fast that avalanche
of shaggy forms could advance he had no means of knowing. If further
frightened by the flash of lightning, and the crash of thunder, a
stampede of the herd would mean that the bison would come on the full
gallop, madly seeking to find shelter from the howling blast.
"Have we got everything, do you think?" asked Roger, ready to mount
his horse, which could hardly be held in hand, such was its terror at
the approach of this thundering mass of heavy beasts; it was as though
the intelligent animal understood the danger that threatened, and
wanted to be on the move.
"No matter, we cannot afford to waste another minute hunting for
anything now. Our lives are worth more than any other thing we possess.
Get in your saddle, quick, Roger; and be careful not to let the horse
throw you, or all is lost!"
The warning came not any too soon, for the fretful animal was jumping
and tugging at the bridle, trying the best it could to break away, so
that it might dash off, and keep a space between that approaching peril
and its fleet heels.
But Roger was a pretty fair horseman, and succeeded in mounting,
in spite of all the prancing of the steed. Then away they went,
helter-skelter, allowing the horses to have their heads.
They tried to keep as near to one another as possible. The one danger
Dick feared more than anything else was that one of the horses in this
headlong gallop might set his feet in a marmot hole, and bring about
disaster; for a spill in the face of the oncoming army of buffaloes
would mean that the unfortunate one must be trampled under foot,
whether his horse had a leg broken or not.
When first seen the buffaloes had apparently been simply galloping
steadily on, as though bent on changing their feeding grounds; but
Dick, turning to look with each flash, believed he could detect a
change coming over their method of advance.
This was doubtless caused by the increasing crashes of thunder that
sounded high above the steady roar of those tens of thousands of hoofs
beating upon the hard turf. In other words, as the oncoming storm
began to overtake the drove, their gallop was fast degenerating into a
stampede, when every animal would put on its best spurt, and, wild with
fear, seek to outrun the threatening gale.
Already the horses were doing their best, and it was folly to dig
one's heels into the sides of his straining beast, as Roger was doing,
seeking to obtain a little more speed.
And now both boys began to look anxiously ahead. Despite the best
efforts of the horses it seemed as though the leading buffaloes were
much closer to them than when the mad race had started; and this meant
that, unless they could manage to gain the shelter of the trees, they
were going to have a hard time of it avoiding disaster.
Already Roger had learned that his comrade had guessed true when he
said that the indistinct line along the horizon, seen just at sunset,
must be trees. They had become much more distinct by now, so that,
although but a fleeting glimpse of them could be obtained when the
lightning flashed, still that was enough.
And now the rain started to fall, but neither cared for that, if only
it did not interfere with their striking the timber belt at its nearest
point.
Probably neither of those boys would ever forget that wild ride, with
the thunder booming all around them; the lightning seeming to strike
here, there, and everywhere; the rain falling in a deluge that soon
soaked them to the skin; and, worst of all, that endless line of
galloping bison gaining constantly, as they were urged on by their
fright.
Once Roger's horse stumbled, and the boy came near falling, only
retaining his seat because he had firmly fixed himself there. His
heart seemed to jump into his throat with a sudden fear lest the animal
had lamed itself, and would prove unequal to the task of keeping ahead
of the oncoming herd.
But, so far as could be seen, the horse did not show any signs of
injury.
"Can we make it, Dick?"
It was necessary for Roger to shout, although at the time he could not
have been ten feet away from his companion. The combination of noises
all around them prevented such a small thing as a human voice from
being heard, unless strained to the utmost.
"Looks like it! keep up your heart, Roger!" was the cheery reply.
But, although Dick spoke in this manner, he was not so very sure that
the tired horses would be equal to the test. He almost hated to glance
backward now, for it seemed to him that the advance of that endless
line of pursuers must be overtaking them rapidly. Perhaps that was only
his fears magnified; but it impressed Dick disagreeably, nevertheless.
In vain he racked his brain to conjure up some means by which their
progress might be increased. Even if they could take the time
to detach some of the various packages with which they had loaded
their horses, it was doubtful if such a sacrifice would avail to any
considerable extent, and so Dick dismissed it as useless.
[Illustration: "WHEN THE THUNDER STOPPED BOOMING FOR A FEW SECONDS THEY
COULD HEAR THE ROAR OF THOSE COUNTLESS HOOFS BEHIND THEM."]
The best hope that he had lay in the chance that the trees might
be somewhat nearer than they believed to be the case, owing to the
impossibility of correctly gauging distances while the rain was
falling, driven by the wind, and the deceptive lightning held sway.
At any rate, all they could do was to hang on, and trust to good
fortune to carry them to safety. The horses were fully conscious of
their danger, and could be trusted to head for the river. Besides, Dick
kept his senses about him all the while, for he knew what it might mean
if he allowed himself to give way.
When the thunder stopped booming for a few seconds they could hear the
roar of those countless hoofs behind them. It had at least one good
element about it--it spurred their horses on.
Had it been daylight, or even a clear, moonlight night, Dick might have
managed to alter his course so as to strike the trees at some point
nearer than the one the frightened horses were aiming for. But in such
a storm one could only keep straight ahead, and trust to luck for the
rest.
Roger, for once at least, had no suggestion to make. True, he looked
backward at times as though almost ready to turn at bay, and face that
rolling mass of tossing black horns and shaggy heads; but the folly of
such a thing must have impressed itself upon him immediately, for he
kept beside his companion throughout the entire ride.
His one bullet, even granting that it found a victim, would have
counted no more than a grain of sand on the seashore. And after he had
fired his bolt the end must have overwhelmed him instantly; for that
resistless tide would sweep on, and every object in its path would be
blotted out of existence.
It seemed to Roger that his nerves had reached a point where they could
stand no more. And then he heard Dick give vent to a loud shout, not
of new alarm, but with a ring of triumph in it; and surely never did
the sound of human voice break upon the ears of Roger Armstrong with a
sweeter cadence than when he grasped the tenor of what his companion
was calling:
"The trees, Roger, the trees are at hand! Keep it up for five minutes
more, and it will be all right!"
CHAPTER XV
SAFE IN THE TIMBER
THAT five minutes seemed a terribly long time to Roger. He could hear
the oncoming herd close at hand now, so that stragglers began to pass
them by on either side, and this fact gave new alarm. What if one of
the buffalo chose to turn and gore the nearest horse with its wicked
horns? Even though only a wound followed, it would mean a spill, and
that would be the same as the end of it all.
But evidently the frightened animals had all they wanted to do in
looking out for their own affairs. Perhaps they considered the running
horses, with those queer bunches on their backs, only in the light of
some singular fellow animals, seeking safety in flight. Roger had heard
it said that, when a fire chased over these vast prairies, all manner
of wild animals--deer, wolves, and buffaloes--ran side by side, only
concerned in making their escape. He had heard his father read out
of the Bible about the time when the lion and the lamb would lie down
together, and he guessed that it would be something like this universal
fear that must bring it about.
The trees began to loom up ahead, and both lads began to feel a new
concern with regard to how they could manage, first of all, to pass in
among the sheltering timber, so as to avoid meeting with an accident;
and then, after this had been accomplished, escape being crushed in the
dense mass of buffaloes that would be surging forward, bent on finding
a haven from the pelting rain.
"Be careful now, Roger!" shouted Dick, as they passed the first
outlying tree.
It required considerable control over the laboring horses to keep from
colliding with the obstacles that began to be strewn across their path;
but by degrees the boys managed to regain control over their steeds,
which were almost winded, on account of their long run; and after that
it was not so difficult.
Sure enough, the river proved to be close at hand, and, finding that
there was an open stretch of beach bordering it, Dick led the way along
this, his object being to reach a point as far up-stream as possible,
so as to get beyond the range of the buffalo herd.
Now their horses were floundering knee-deep in the water, and again
running along the shore; but all the while making progress, and that
satisfied the two lads.
"That was as close a shave as we ever had, Dick!" called out Roger,
who was in the rear, quite content for once to let his cousin do the
leading, for he was still quivering with the recent excitement, and
could hardly believe that they had come out of it with whole skins.
"Yes, and it's a good thing for us this little stretch runs along the
edge of the water," was what the other answered back.
"Listen to the buffaloes coming into the timber. There seems to be no
end to them. Do you think they'll crowd down to the water before we can
get above the edge of the drove? Is there any end to it, Dick?" (Note
4.)
"Oh! yes," replied Dick, "and already I think we're getting to where
there are not so many, for the sound of their hoofs seems less. Keep
right on coming, Roger, and in the end we'll have a fire, and dry off."
"That suits me, because already I'm shivering with the cold. This
thing of riding at top speed with a wet jacket isn't much fun, Dick, I
tell you."
So long as there was danger that they might be trampled under the hoofs
of the herd, Roger had not given his soaked condition a single thought,
for the excitement kept him up. It was only after safety seemed assured
that he could allow himself to consider his feelings; and then, as he
said, he discovered that he was shaking all over.
Dick proved a true prophet, for after a while they managed to get to a
point that seemed to be beyond the limits of the vast drove. Further
down the river they could hear the greatest splashing imaginable, as
thousands of the beasts pushed into the water, either to drink, or
because the press behind was so great as to crowd them off the bank.
Roger was only too willing to pull up when Dick gave the word.
The rain had stopped entirely, and the mutter of thunder was only heard
now in the distance, showing that the storm was past.
So the two young pioneers jumped to the ground, and the first thing
they did was to slap their chilled arms vigorously back and forth,
after the customary method of starting a circulation of the blood.
"Now, how about a fire?" asked Roger.
"Wait until we stake the horses, and then I'll hunt around for an old
stump, or a log, from which to tear the dry heart to make a beginning,"
Dick declared.
Of course these boys, having roamed the woods in search of game since
they were capable of handling one of the long-barreled rifles known to
the settlers of the day, understood just how to go about getting fire,
no matter if everything around them seemed to be soaking wet.
Having found the needed stump, Dick used knife and hatchet, and
presently announced that he had enough dry tinder to make a start.
Meanwhile Roger had also been collecting twigs that would be apt to
take fire quickly, and had selected the site on which the cheery blaze
should be built. In doing this he had been influenced in some measure
by the idea of hiding the fire as much as possible, although the boys
did not believe hostile eyes could see it in the thick timber.
Once Dick had got out his tinder box, and his flint and steel, there
was little time wasted in sending the spark where it glowed amidst the
inflammable stuff, being quickly fanned into a tiny flame by the breath
of the fire-maker. Matches may be a great invention, and a labor-saving
device, but in those pioneer days, under favorable conditions it was
amazing how rapidly an expert could light a fire. And in rainy weather
the "matches" did not get wet, which must have been more or less of a
consolation.
It certainly did feel good to crouch near that hot little blaze, and
let their wet garments steam on them, gradually feeling warmer, and in
this manner drying.
The boys knew that they could not sleep again that night, so there was
no use trying. Accordingly they sat there, keeping their small fire
going, and talking of the thousand-and-one things connected with their
mission, and the wonderful experiences through which they were passing.
When the clouds parted overhead, and they could see the stars, it was
possible for either of them to give a good guess as to how the night
was passing; for, since watches were almost unknown among the settlers,
every boy was taught to read the heavenly bodies, and to observe
things that might be passing around him.
So Dick and Roger knew just about when certain bright planets should
set or rise; and a glance upward at any time when the sky was clear was
sufficient to tell them how the day or night might be passing.
"We'll have daylight in less than two hours," Dick announced, when the
break in the clouds came, allowing him to consult his "clock."
"And when it comes," Roger returned, with a shake of his head, "do you
know what I intend to do? Why, try for a young buffalo with my bow and
arrows. I never yet had the chance to shoot such a big animal with that
Indian bow. If it can bring down an elk, why not a buffalo? And let me
tell you, after the fright they gave us, I feel more like feasting on
buffalo meat than ever before."
Dick declared that he would have no objection to tasting more fresh
meat; and so it was arranged that, while he stayed with the outfit,
Roger should set out for a little hunt.
He promised not to wander far away, and to stick to the timber belt.
When Dick spoke of this latter condition his companion laughed aloud.
"Well, you wouldn't catch me stepping out on that prairie on foot with
all those savage bulls around, no, sir, not if I was paid to do it,"
he declared. "It was bad enough to be chased while we had our horses
to depend on, and, let me tell you, I don't hanker after trying a foot
race."
When the time did come he started off, while Dick busied himself in
the camp, for there were numerous duties to be looked after, besides
keeping the fire going. In their mad gallop the horses had managed to
get some of the bundles disturbed, which was not surprising, and these
had to be rearranged.
Hardly an hour had passed when Dick heard a joyous whoop, and, looking
up, as his hand involuntarily reached out toward his ready firearm, he
discovered his camp-mate staggering in, bearing a package of meat done
up in a portion of hide.
"You were lucky, then, I see," ventured Dick, as the other threw his
burden down.
"It was as easy a job as I ever had," replied Roger, panting a little
after his exertions. "Why, Dick, I could have shot a dozen, if I'd
wanted, they were so thick through the timber, and seemed to be wanting
to just lie there and rest. The hardest thing was to get a chance to
cut up my game, after it had fallen. You see, I was afraid some old
bull might take a notion to charge me; but I managed it all right, and
without any fight, either."
"I hope you got a yearling, then," remarked the camp guard, as he
started to open the meat pack.
"Just what I did," replied Roger. "With all those around to choose
from, I picked the very choicest and fattest in sight. Oh! I can hardly
wait to get some in the pan, I'm so hungry."
And so it came about that even the great buffalo stampede, that at one
time had threatened to bring the journey of the young pioneers to a
speedy termination, was the means of supplying them with food.
When the fresh meat was done to a turn, both lads pronounced it the
very finest they had ever eaten; and somehow it seemed to remove
some of the sting from their inglorious night gallop in front of the
panic-stricken herd.
Then once more the forward movement was resumed; for their
determination to overtake the expedition that was piercing the Western
wilderness had not abated. Accustomed to meeting and overcoming
difficulties, the boys thought little of things that might seem
discouragements in the eyes of those less trained in the ways of
borderers and hunters.
No doubt they would see more of these shaggy animals, if they stayed
any length of time upon the prairies along the upper Missouri, for at
that time the buffalo entered largely into all the history of the many
Indian tribes living west of the Mississippi, and pictures of its chase
could be found painted on thousands of the skin teepees used by the
red hunters. Its meat, when dried, afforded their families sustenance
through the long winters, and the annual drive, when hundreds of the
ungainly beasts would be killed, was an event that took place every
autumn. If the buffalo failed to show up in numbers, it promised to be
a lean year for that unfortunate tribe, and the hunters would have to
keep busy after the ground was knee-deep in snow, trying to bring in
moose, caribou, or other animals that did not migrate each season to
the warmer southland.
It was only fair that a period of peace should follow after a storm;
and for many days the boys met with no particular adventure, but
continued to make good time along the river.
At the same time they did not seem to be gaining to any appreciable
extent on the explorers who were pushing on ahead; which fact gave
Roger occasional fits of the blues, so that his companion was compelled
to again show him that sooner or later they were bound to attain their
end. For Captain Lewis had, before starting, announced that he expected
to spend the winter somewhere short of the great mountain chain, which,
it was believed, ran north and south somewhere in the distant country.
CHAPTER XVI
THE PERILS OF THE WILDERNESS
"I WONDER if he saw us?" Roger was saying, some days after the buffalo
stampede.
The boys were thinking of halting for the night, and the western sky
had taken on all the wonderful rosy tints at which even these frontier
boys would gaze with something akin to awe.
"I hope not," his companion returned, with a troubled look on his
sunburned face; "because that might mean new perils before morning. Up
to now we've been so lucky about escaping any sort of fight with the
wandering Indians that I keep hoping we may get through, and join the
expedition, without any annoyance."
"But it _was_ a redskin, all right, Dick; both of us saw him plain
enough to be very sure of that," Roger went on.
"Oh! yes, I grant that," was Dick's answer; "but he wasn't in evidence
on that little rise more than a few minutes. We kept our horses
standing still all the time, in the hope that he might not notice us.
He shaded his eyes with his hand, because he was looking into the west,
and that light must have partly blinded him. I only hope it was strong
enough to make him miss seeing us here."
"Are we going on now?" queried the other, impatiently.
"That's the only thing left to us, Roger. By sticking close to the foot
of the rise, where there are some trees to give us shelter, we may
escape being seen. But no galloping for us now; just let the horses
walk until the dusk comes down on us. Then we'll make camp, somehow."
"How lucky that I cooked enough of that meat at noon to last another
meal. That was a time when I had my head about me, eh, Dick?" the other
asked.
"It looks that way, because we must light no fire if there's a hunting
party of hostile Indians around here," Dick decided.
They let the tired animals walk, keeping to the edge of the little hill
beyond which, though at some little distance, lay the river.
Roger, grown very suspicious now, turned in his saddle many times
to glance in all directions. He thought more than once that he saw
a crouching Indian behind some tree or bush, and his gun almost
involuntarily started to leap to his shoulder. But in every case it
turned out to be some deceptive shadow, and Roger was the first one to
laugh at his own silly fears.
Gradually the glorious red tints died out of the western heavens; and
with their passing came the troops of skirmishing shadows that told of
the night.
Dick had meanwhile kept on the alert, not only to discover any lurking
foe, but at the same time find a suitable spot where they could make
their camp.
When he located a place that seemed to promise them fair shelter, and
at the same time a feeding spot for their horses, he drew rein.
"We might as well pull up here, and settle down for the night, Roger,"
he announced.
So they proceeded to stake the horses out, making their own
arrangements so as to be very close to the feeding animals. The grass
was sweet and plentiful, and, as the horses were hungry, they started
cropping it without delay, glad to be relieved from their burdens, for
the day had been a hot one.
"Perhaps," said Roger, as they started to arrange things so as to have
at least some sort of comfort, "it might be wise not to undo most of
our packages, since we don't mean to make a fire."
"I was just going to say that myself," the other rejoined. "Then, if we
wanted to get away from here in a hurry, we'd be in condition to do so."
"Then you still have a little idea we were seen by that lone brave,
Dick; and that he may bring the rest of the hunting party down on us
to-night?"
"It seems to strike me that way; and so we must keep a better watch
even than usual to-night," Dick observed, as he accepted some of the
food his comrade took out of a package, and started to munch at it with
that contentment the boys of those days learned to exhibit.
"We've been so lucky all these weeks, while following after the
expedition, not to meet a single enemy face to face--unless you'd count
that half-breed. If he was with François Lascelles we must have given
them the slip nicely, don't you think, Dick?"
"It looks that way," Dick answered, between bites. "Pass me the old
canteen that we filled with water at that fine spring late this
afternoon, and I'll wash down this dry meat. We've been delayed so many
times now that the summer is passing away; and, after all, it begins to
look as if we might come up with Captain Lewis just when he's thinking
of stopping over to pass the winter. You know we heard him say he felt
sure he'd have to do that somewhere short of the big mountains the
Indians tell such strange stories about, when bringing in their pelts
to the trading posts."
"But no matter, we're bound to keep on, if it takes us all the way to
the ocean--I've heard you say that more than once, Dick, and I know you
meant it, too."
"Yes, I'm just as determined as when we started out to overtake the
expedition, and have that paper signed by Jasper Williams. Every time I
shut my eyes when trying to go to sleep I can see my father's troubled
face, and how well do I remember discovering the tears in mother's eyes
as she looked around the little home, for I know she was thinking how
it would break her heart to have to give it up now."
"It must never happen, Dick. After coming this far we _must_ succeed,
and save the homes of our parents for them. I am twice as set on that
as when we first started out. Think of all we've gone through; and yet
it seems as if the Good Captain above must be watching over us, to keep
all harm from overtaking us. Yes, we are going to succeed, if pluck and
love can pull us through!"
In this manner the two boys buoyed up each other's courage. Nor was it
at all strange that there arose now and then some necessity for such
a thing. The task which they had set for themselves might have well
given grown men, experienced forest rangers, cause for hesitation and
doubt. The hidden perils of this unknown country had been the subject
of campfire talk ever since the lads knew anything; and unconsciously
their young minds had been impressed with the idea that many kinds of
fierce animals inhabited the country far beyond the Mississippi, in the
Land of the Setting Sun. And then there were numerous tribes of warlike
Indians roving over the plains, and through the forests in uncounted
numbers, and great beasts, the like of which the eyes of hunters had
never before seen, having their homes among the sky-piercing mountains
lying like a barrier far toward the distant ocean.
The darkness closed in even as they ate their frugal meal and conversed
in low whispers. Roger was more than ever on the alert. The many little
sounds of the night caused him to listen, and try to determine whether
the shrill cry of the cricket, or the monotonous call of the katydid
were genuine, or some signal of creeping enemies.
When a whippoorwill suddenly gave out his loud notes from a neighboring
tree, the nervous Roger started as if he had been shot, and even thrust
forward a hand, as though ready to snatch up his gun.
When finally they had finished eating, Dick seemed to have made up his
mind to something that had been worrying him.
"Listen to me, Roger," he said, impressively; "I was just thinking of
what old Pat O'Mara told us once, of when he was in a dangerous land,
and feared that the Indians might know of his camp. You remember he
changed his location as soon as darkness covered his movements. And he
was glad he'd done so, because, later on in that same night, he heard
shots and yells in the quarter where he had been; and knew that the
redskins were pouncing on the dummy figure he had left beside a little
fire. We must do the same thing now. I wouldn't sleep easily unless we
made a move."
"Just as you say, Dick; you're the chief of the expedition, you know.
But do you really think that Indian saw us, and perhaps followed us?"
"I seem to have an idea that way," replied the other; "several times
I thought, when I turned my head and looked back, that I saw a branch
fall into place, just as if some one might be watching us from behind
the green covert. And once I even believed I saw a shadowy figure flit
from tree to tree. No matter if it is a false alarm, Roger; it is
better to be on the safe side, as father says."
"All right, whenever you say the word we'll make the move," Roger
returned, "and how fortunate that we didn't undo our stuff any more
than we had to, in getting the blankets out. Shall I bring the horses
in now, Dick, so we can load up?"
"Yes, it is pitch dark, and we can creep on without any one seeing us,
Roger. Besides, if that red spy did follow at our heels, as soon as he
saw that we meant to make camp here he must have marked the spot well
in his mind, and then slipped off to hunt up the rest of the party.
Perhaps they may be miles away, and it would take him hours to find
them."
Roger soon had the horses ready. Then the tired boys started off. They
did not venture to mount, but walked ahead of their animals, leading
them. This was on account of the darkness, which was so intense that
neither could see more than ten feet ahead; and even at that distance
the trees bordering the little rise looked dim and uncanny, as though
they might be ghosts----at least, that was the way they appeared to the
imagination of Roger.
For half an hour they walked along in this fashion, sometimes stumbling
over obstacles they could not see, but making steady progress all the
while.
"I think we have come far enough, now," remarked Dick, finally, as he
stopped in his tracks.
"Oh! I'm glad to hear you say that!" exclaimed the other, with a long
drawn sigh, for he was very tired after that hot day's journey.
They soon had the horses staked out again, close at hand. Neither of
the boys expected to get very much sleep that night, for there seemed
to be some strange foreboding in the atmosphere, that affected them.
As they had done on many another occasion, the boys divided the night
into watches, each taking turn and turn about in keeping awake.
It was a moonless night, though the stars were bright enough. After a
warm day, the myriads of insects seemed to be unusually noisy, and kept
up a chorus that was soothing, rather than irritating, to the senses of
Dick Armstrong, as he sat with his back braced against the trunk of a
small tree.
Roger was sound asleep alongside; and, sitting there, Dick could hear
the constant cropping of the horses as they continued to make a supper
from the grass that grew in the open spaces, and still preserved its
sweetness, despite the lateness of the season.
Now and again some distant sound would cause him to raise his head to
listen; it might be the weird howl of a prairie wolf, the strange cry
of a coyote, a new animal to both boys; or the hoot of an owl perched
in some dead tree, and signaling to its mate.
But the night wore on, without anything out of the ordinary occurring,
and Dick even began to imagine that his fears must have been
groundless. Still, he could not regret having taken precautions; for it
paid to be on the safe side always.
Then he suddenly sat upright. His manner indicated that his quick ears
had caught some sound, however trifling, that seemed out of the common,
and therefore, under the circumstances, suspicious.
It was as if a stone had been dislodged somewhere up on the little
ridge, and in rattling down the side, caused a small avalanche. Still,
a roving animal might have been the cause.
Dick turned his eyes upward. The top of the ridge happened to be devoid
of undergrowth, and was sharply outlined against the starry heavens.
One of the greatest of the planets was just about to set, and hovered
above the ridge, as if on the point of sending out the last flickering
gleam before dropping from sight.
Even as the boy sat there and looked, he saw something pass before
this bright star. It was erect, and on two feet, therefore not an
animal; moreover, Dick had seen the flutter of feathers crowning the
scalp-lock, and he knew that it must be an Indian brave.
Another, and still another flitted past, until the startled lad had
counted fully seventeen of the noiseless figures. Then he knew that
they were heading toward the very spot where he and Roger had first
intended spending the night, proving that the spy, after locating them,
had indeed hurried away to summon his red companions.
CHAPTER XVII
A CLOSE CALL
DICK almost held his breath until the last dark figure had flitted
past. His greatest fear had been that in some manner the keen ears of
the Indians might detect the presence of horses down near the foot of
the elevation along which they were making their way.
Dick waited a full minute after seeing the party vanish before making a
move. He wished to be sure there were no stragglers lingering behind.
And when this seemed a certainty he put out his hand, and gently shook
his comrade.
"'Sh!"
Roger, starting up, heard this warning sound, and felt a thrill. He
groped around until he had laid hands on his gun, placed close beside
him when lying down to sleep.
"What is it, Dick?" he whispered, placing his lips close to the other's
ear.
"Danger! We must get out of this right away," replied the sentry, in
an equally low tone.
"Indians?" asked Roger, to make sure.
"Yes. A party has just passed along the ridge. It was just our luck
that they took this place to come over the hogback, Roger."
"You saw them, did you?" demanded Roger.
"I did that; and counted seventeen," replied Dick, impressively; "all
stepping in each other's tracks. One must have started a stone rolling
down, for its clatter made me look up. They went past like ghosts, and
vanished below the rim, still heading that way."
"Ugh! you mean in the direction of our first camp, don't you, Dick?
Then that lone hunter must have sighted us, even if he did pretend not
to. How wise you were to change camps. Seventeen, you say; what could
two boys do against that many braves? What next, Dick? I'm ready to do
anything you say. Must we push on again, do you think?"
"Yes, because when they find that the birds have flown they will surely
look this way for us. By that time we ought to be miles off."
They set about making the move without more delay, though not hurrying
in such a manner as to invite discovery through neglect of precautions.
The poor horses no doubt thought it pretty hard that they should be
made to start out afresh without even a nap; but they were patient
beasts and had no way of expressing their opinions, or showing signs of
mutiny at being made to work overtime.
Once again did the boys lead the animals, for the darkness was too
intense to trust to keeping their eyes so far away from the ground,
when there was so much necessity for their discovering the presence
of logs and pitfalls before the horses stumbled. Roger, if left to
himself, would possibly have climbed into his saddle, and trusted to
the instinct of his animal to detect obstacles in the way, but Dick was
too cautious for that.
So they plodded on. It was weary work, but the knowledge that a deadly
peril lurked near inspired the boys to endure the fatigue bravely.
"You seem to be veering off to the side, Dick; we're getting farther
and farther away from that ridge, back of which lies the river. What is
that for?" asked Roger, after a while.
"In the first place," replied the other, always willing to explain,
"when the Indians find out that we've slipped away,
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