The Wild Man of the West: A Tale of the Rocky Mountains - Robert Michael Ballantyne 8 стр.

It may be imagined, then, with what delight and excitement they now, for the first time, beheld scenes of their own beloved woods and prairies, as well as their own rough forms, vividly sketched by a master-hand. One of the most interesting points in the inspection of the sketch-book was, that old Redhand recognised almost every one of the landscapes as spots with which he was well acquainted; and as Bertram had sketched most diligently as he travelled along, Redhand told him that by the aid of that book, without compass or anything else, he could trace his route backward, step by step, to the Saskatchewan river. Moreover, he described to the artist accurately many scenes which were near to those he had sketched, and gradually fell to talking about adventures and rencontres he had had in many of them, so that at last it became evident there would be no proposal to go to rest that night at all unless some wise one of the party should remind the others that another days toil lay before them in the course of a few hours.

At length they took up their pipes, which had been forgotten in the excitement, and refilled them with the intention of having a last quiet whiff before lying down.

Ho! exclaimed Redhand, who still continued to turn over the pages of the book, heres a face I know. Where saw ye that Indian?

I cannot easily tell where it was we met him; but I remember well that it was just a days ride from the spot where our horses were stolen.

Were there others with him?

No, he was alone.

Ha! at least he said so, I fancy.

Yes, he did; and I had no reason to doubt him.

Youre not used to the ways o the redskin, sir, replied Redhand, looking meditatively at the fire. Did he chance to mention his name?

Oh yes, he called himself Big Snake, at least one of my men translated it so.

A significant smile overspread the old trappers face as he replied

I thought as much. A greater thief and villain does not disgrace the prairies. Hes the man that took yer horses; sich a fellow as that never goes about alone; hes always got a tail following him as black as himself. But Ill see if we cant pay the rascal off in his own coin.

How so? inquired Bertram. He must be far from this spot.

Not so far as you think. I know his haunts, and could take you to them in a few days overland; but itll take longer by the river, and we cant quit our canoe just now.

But, good friend, said Bertram quietly, I cannot presume on your hospitality so far as to expect you to carry me along with you for the purpose of redressing my wrongs.

Make your mind easy on that pint, returned Redhand; well talk of it in the mornin.

While the old trapper and the artist were conversing, Bounce had busied himself in stringing the claws of the grisly bear on a strip of deerskin, for the purpose of making a collar. A necklace of this description is very highly prized among Indians, especially when the claws are large.

While it was being made, Gibault sighed so deeply once or twice, that March suggested he must be in love.

So I is, sighed Gibault.

Thats interesting, remarked March; who with?

Ay, thats it, said Bounce; out with her name, lad. No one ought never to be ashamed o bein in love. Its a glorious state o mind an body as a feller should gratilate hisself on havin. Who be ye in love wi, lad?

Vid dat necklace, replied Gibault, sighing again heavily.

Oh! if thats all, ye dont need to look so blue, for its yer own by rights, said Bounce. Im jist doin it up for ye.

Non; it cannot be mine, returned Gibault.

How so? inquired Waller, ye arned it, didnt ye? Drew first blood I calclate.

Non, I not draw de fuss blood. Mais, I vill hab chance again no doubt. Monsieur Bertram he drew fuss blood.

Ho, he! cried Waller in surprise. You didnt tell us that before. Come, Im glad ont.

What! exclaimed Bertram, the necklace mine? there must be some mistake. I certainly fired my pistol at the bear, but it seemed to have had no effect whatever.

Gibault, said Bounce emphatically, did you fire at all?

Non, pour certain, cause de gun he not go off.

Then, continued Bounce, handing the much-coveted necklace to Bertram, the thing blongs to you, sir, for that bar comed up wounded, an as he couldnt ha wounded hisself, you must ha done itthere.

The young man positively refused for some time to accept of the necklace, saying, that as Gibault had tracked and discovered the bear, it certainly belonged to him; but Gibault as positively affirmed that he would not disgrace himself by wearing what belonged rightfully to another man; and as the other trappers confirmed what their comrade said, Bertram was at last fain to accept of a trophy which, to say truth, he was in his heart most anxious to possess.

At the close of this amicable dispute, each man rolled himself in his blanket and lay down to sleep with his feet to the fire. Being in a part of the country where there were very few Indians, and these few on pretty good terms with the white trappers, no watch was set. Bertram lay down with his tattered cloak around him, and, taking a little book from his pocket, read it, or appeared to read it, till he fell asleepon observing which, March Marston crept noiselessly to his side, and, lying gently down beside him, covered him with a portion of his own blanket. Ere long the camp was buried in repose.

Chapter Six

There are few passages in Holy Writ more frequently brought to remembrance by the incidents of everyday life than thisYe know not what a day or an hour may bring forth. The uncertainty of sublunary things is proverbial, whether in the city or in the wilderness, whether among the luxuriously nurtured sons and daughters of civilisation, or among the toil-worn wanderers in the midst of savage life. To each and all there is, or may be, sunshine to-day and cloud to-morrow; gladness to-day sadness to-morrow. There is no such thing as perpetual felicity in the world of matter. A nearer approach to it may perhaps be made in the world of mind; but, like perpetual motion, it is not to be absolutely attained to in this world of ours. Those who fancy that it is to be found in the wilderness are hereby warned, by one who has dwelt in savage lands, that its habitation is not there.

March Marston thought it was. On the morning after the night whose close we have described, he awoke refreshed, invigorated, and buoyant with a feeling of youthful strength and health. Starting up, he met the glorious sun face to face, as it rose above the edge of a distant blue hill, and the meeting almost blinded him. There was a saffron hue over the eastern landscape that caused it to appear like the plains of Paradise. Lakelets in the prairies glittered in the midst of verdant foliage; ponds in the hollows lay, as yet unillumined, like blots of ink; streams and rivulets gleamed as they flowed round wooded knolls, or sparkled silvery white as they leaped over rocky obstructions. The noble river, on the banks of which the camp had been made, flowed with a calm sweep through the richly varied countryrefreshing to look upon and pleasant to hear, as it murmured on its way to join the Father of waters. The soft roar of a far-distant cataract was heard mingling with the cries of innumerable water fowl that had risen an hour before to enjoy the first breathings of the young day. To March Marstons ear it seemed as though all Nature, animate and inanimate, were rejoicing in the beneficence of its Creator.

The youths reverie was suddenly broken by the approach of Theodore Bertram.

Good morrow, friend, said the latter, grasping Marchs hand and shaking it heartily. You are early astir. Oh, what a scene! What heavenly colours! What a glorious expanse of beauty!

The artists hand moved involuntarily to the pouch in which he was wont to carry his sketch-book, but he did not draw it forth; his soul was too deeply absorbed in admiration to permit of his doing aught but gaze in silence.

This repays my toils, he resumed, soliloquising rather than speaking to March. Twere worth a journey such as I have taken, twice repeated, to witness such a scene as this.

Ay, aint it grand? said March, delighted to find such congenial enthusiasm in the young painter.

Bertram turned his eyes on his companion, and, in doing so, observed the wild rose at his side.

Ah! sweet rose, he said, stooping eagerly down to smell it.

He was no poet who wrote that, anyhow, observed March with a look of disdain.

You are wrong, friend. He was a good poet and true.

Do you mean to tell me that the sweetness o that rose is wasted here?

Nay, I do not say that. The poet did not mean to imply that its sweetness is utterly wasted, but to assert the fact that, as far as civilised man is concerned, it is so.

Civilised man, echoed March, turning up his nose (a difficult feat, by the way, for his nose by nature turned down). An pray whats civilised man that he should think everythings wasted that dont go in at his own eyes, or up his own nose, or down his own throat? eh?

Bertram laughed slightly (he never laughed heartily). You are a severe critic, friend.

I dont know, and I dont care, what sort o cricket I am; but this I do know, that roses are as little wasted here as in your countrymayhap not so much. Why, I tell ye Ive seen the bars smell em.

Indeed.

Ay, an eat em too!

That was not taking a poetical view of them, suggested Bertram.

Perhaps not, but it was uncommonly practical, returned March, laughing.

The conversation was abruptly terminated at this point by a flock of wild ducks, which, ignorant of the presence of the two youths, swept close past their heads with a startling whirr. The artist leaped backwards, and March, partly in the exuberant glee of his heart and partly to relieve his own startled feelings, gave utterance to a hideous yell.

Hi! hallo! roared Big Waller, starting up and replying to the yell with compound interest. Wots to do? Bars or savageswhich? Oh! savages I see, he added, rubbing his eyes, as he observed March laughing at him. Ha! lad, dye know theres a sort o critter in other diggins o this here world as they calls a hi-eeno, or somethin o that sort, as can laugh, it can; so youre not the only beast as can do it, dye see!

The camp was now thoroughly roused, and the trappers set about making preparations for a start; but little was said. It is generally the case at early morningat least among healthy men who have work to do before breakfast in the wildernessthat tongues are disinclined to move. After the first somewhat outrageous and rather unusual burst, no one spoke again, while they carried their goods down to the waters edge, except in a short grumpy way when an order or a remark was needful. In about ten minutes after the utterance of Big Wallers roar, they were in their places in the little red canoe, paddling blithely up the river.

Bertrams place in the canoe was the centre. He was placed there as a passenger, but, not being by any means of a lazy disposition, he relieved all the men by turns, and thus did a good share of the work during the day.

Towards evening the travellers came to a cataract, which effectually barred their further progress, and rendered a portage necessary. Just above the cataract there was a short stretch of comparatively smooth water, in which, however, the current was very strong. Immediately above that there was a rapid of considerable length and strength, which boiled furiously among the rocks, and seemed to be impassable to a canoe. After close inspection of it, however, Redhand and Bounce, who were tacitly recognised as joint leaders of the party, agreed that the canoe could easily enough be hauled up by means of a line. To make a long portage, and so avoid the whole obstruction, was desirable; but the precipitous nature of the banks at that place rendered the carrying of the canoe and goods a work not only of severe labour, but of considerable danger.

The mode of proceeding having been settled, all hands went to work without delay. The goods were carried to the top of the fall, which was about fifteen feet high, then the canoe was shouldered by Waller and Bounce, and soon it floated in a calm eddy near the head of the cataract. Having replaced the cargo, a strong line or rope was fastened to the bows, and Redhand and Bounce proceeded to take their places in the canoe, in order to guide it through the rapid, while the others were engaged in hauling on the track-line.

Stay, cried March Marston as Bounce was stepping in, let me go in the canoe, Bounce. You know well enough that I can manage it; besides, youre a heavy buffalo, and more able to track than I.

Nay, lad, replied Bounce, shaking his head, youll only run the risk o gettin a wet skinmayhap somethin worse.

Now, thats too bad. Dye think nobody can manage a canoe but yourself? Come, Redhand, do let me go.

Its not safe, boy. The rapid looks bad, and youre not much used to the bow-paddle.

Tut, nonsense, exclaimed March, pushing Bounce aside and stepping into the canoe. Now hold on.

Before the men on the bank of the river were well aware of what the reckless youth was about, he shoved the bow of the canoe off. The instant it passed the still water of the eddy and caught the powerful stream, the light bark darted like an arrow from the bank, and Redhand was obliged to use his paddle with the utmost dexterity, while the men on shore had to haul on the line with all their might, to prevent it being swept over the brink of the fall. In a second, however, the danger was past, and, putting their strength to the track-line, they dragged the canoe slowly but steadily upstream, while Redhand and March guided it past rocks and dangerous eddies. Seeing that the youth used his paddle dexterously, Bounce, after a little thought, resolved to let him encounter the more dangerous rapid above. Redhand silently came to the same conclusion, though he felt uneasy and blamed himself for allowing the ardour of the boy to get the better of him.

March is a bold fellow, observed Bertram, who walked immediately behind Bounce, hauling on the line like the rest.

Bold he is, sir, replied Bounce; an if yed seed him, as I did not many weeks agone, a-ridin on the back of a buffalo bull, yed mayhap say he was more nor that.

Hah! he is mad! cried Gibault, who, although the last in the line of tracksmen, was sharp-eared, and overheard the conversation.

Dont talk, Gibault, interposed Big Waller, you need all the wind in your little carcass, I guess, to enable ye to steam ahead.

Oui, mon dear ami, you is rightI do ver much require all mine steammine spiritsfor to push such a heavy, useless hulk as you before me.