CHAPTER TWENTY ONE.
MARCH, THOUGH WILLING IN SPIRIT, FINDS HIS BODY WEAK--HE MAKES MARY APRESENT--THE TRAPPERS SET OUT TO SEARCH FOR THEIR LOST COMRADE--ANUNEXPECTED MEETING--BIG WALLER WAXES PUGNACIOUS--NEWS OF MARCH--DICKBECOMES MORE MYSTERIOUS THAN EVER--A RECKLESS PROPOSAL AND A HAPPYMEETING.
Next morning, before daybreak, March Marston attempted to set out forthe Mountain Fort with Dick; but he was so thoroughly knocked up beforethe end of the first mile that he had to call a halt, and admit that hecould not think of going further. This was just what Dick wanted; so helaughed, told him to go back and take care of Mary, and he would advancealone.
March returned, very much humbled, excessively pained in all his joints,and feeling as if he had reason to be ashamed of himself.
"Oh! you com back?" cried Mary as he entered the cavern with acrestfallen air. "Me so glad! Me know very well you no was poss'blefor travel."
Mary was perfectly artless. She made no attempt whatever to conceal hersatisfaction at the youth's return, so he felt amazingly comforted, andeven began to recover his self-esteem.
"Yes, Mary, I've come back, 'cause I can't go forward. It's o' no usetryin'; I'd just have knocked up on the way, which would have beenawkward for Dick, you know, as well as for me. Besides, I couldn'tfight just now to save my life."
"Well, you is right. You stop here an' git strong an' well. Me tellyou stories 'bout Dick, or other mans if you likes. We'll have nofightin' to do. If there is, me take care of you. Me can doos a littilin that way."
March opened his eyes very wide at this, and stared at the pretty littlevision in leather, but there was no smile or sly wrinkle on hercountenance. She was looking quite gravely and sedately into the ironpot, which she happened to be stirring at that moment.
"Mary," he said, sitting down beside her, "Dick tells me you can read."
"Yis, me can read littil. But me only got one book." She sighedslightly as she said this.
"Would you like to have another book?"
"Oh yis, very very much. Have you got one?"
"Ay, one; the only one I have in the world, Mary; an' you're the onlyperson in the world I'd give it to. But I'll give it to you, 'causeyou've no chance of gettin' one like it here. It's a Bible--the one mymother gave me when I left home."
March pulled the little volume out of the breast of his coat as hespoke, and handed it to the girl, who received it eagerly, and looked atit with mingled feelings of awe and curiosity for some time before sheventured to open it.
"The Bibil. Dick have oftin speak to me 'bout it, an' try to 'membersome of it. But he no can 'member much. He tell me it speak about thegreat good Spirit. Injins call him Manitow."
"So it does, Mary. I'll leave it with you when I go away. You say Dickcouldn't remember much of it; neither can I, Mary. More shame to me,for many an' many a time has my poor mother tried to make me learn itoff by heart."
"You mother?" repeated Mary earnestly. "Is you mother livin'?"
"That is she. At least, I left her well an' hearty in Pine Pointsettlement not many weeks agone."
"Me wish me had mother," said Mary with a sigh.
March gazed at the sad face of his fair companion with a perplexed yetsympathetic look. This was a new idea to him. Never having beenwithout a mother, it had never entered into his head to think of such athing as wishing for one.
"What you mother called?" said the girl, looking up quickly.
"Her name is Mary."
"Yis! that very strange. Call same as me."
"Not very strange, after all. There are a good number of Marys in theworld," replied March with a laugh. "See, here is her name on theflyleaf of the Bible, written with her own hand, too: `To my dear March,from his loving mother, Mary Marston, Pine Point settlement.' Isn't ita good round hand o' write?"
"Very pritty," replied Mary. But she had now begun to spell out thewords of the book which had at last fallen into her hands, and Marchcould not again draw her into general talk; so he was fain to sit downand help her to read the Bible.
Leaving them thus occupied, we will now return to the trappers, three ofwhom, it will be remembered--Bounce, Redhand, and Gibault--had reachedthe Mountain Fort and given the alarm. Soon afterwards the Indiansarrived there; but finding everything in readiness to give them a warmreception, they retired at once, preferring to wait their opportunityrather than have a fair stand-up fight with the white men. About anhour after they had retired, Big Waller, Hawkswing, and the artist, cametearing towards the fort, and were at once admitted.
They had nothing new to tell. They had met together by accident, as theothers had done, on nearing the fort, and would have been in sooner, hadnot Big Waller been obliged to take charge of poor Bertram, who, owingto the suddenness and violence of all these recent events in savagelife, had got into a muddled condition of mind that rendered himpeculiarly helpless. But they knew nothing of March Marston--they hadexpected to find him there before them.
As March was well mounted, and known to be well qualified to take careof himself, his non-arrival threw his friends into a state of the utmostanxiety and suspense. They waited a couple of hours, in order to givehim a chance of coming in, hoping that he might have merely beendetained by some trifling accident, such as having lost his way for atime. But when, at the end of that period, there was still no sign ofhim, they gave up all hope of his arriving, and at once set out to sweepthe whole country round in search of him, vowing in their hearts thatthey would never return to Pine Point settlement without him if he werealive.
McLeod tried to persuade them to remain at the fort for a few days, but,feeling sympathy with them, he soon ceased to press the matter. As forthe wretched chief of the fort, Macgregor--the excitement of the recenttransactions being over--he had returned to his bosom friend, andbitterest enemy, the bottle, and was at that time lying in a state ofdrivelling idiocy in his private chamber.
A few days after quitting the fort, Bounce and Gibault, who chanced tobe riding considerably in advance of their companions, halted on the topof a ridge and began to scan the country before them. In the midst oftheir observations, Bounce broke the silence with a grunt.
"Fat now?" inquired his companion.
"What now?" replied Bounce contemptuously. "Use yer eyes now; d'ye seenothin'?"
"Non, no ting."
"That comes o' the want of obsarvation, now," said Bounce in a grave,reproachful tone. "Ye shouldn't ought to be so light-headed, lad. Ifye wos left to yer lone in them sort o' places, ye'd soon lose yerscalp. It's _obsarvation_ as does it all, an' in yer partikler caseit's the want o' that same as doesn't do it, d'ye see?"
"Non, vraiment, me shockable blind dis day; mais, p'r'aps, git morecliver de morrow," replied the good-humoured Canadian with a grin. "Fatyou see?"
"I see fut-prints," replied Bounce, dismounting; "an' as fut-printsimplies feet, an' feet indicates critters, human or otherwise, itbecomes men wot be lookin' for a lost comrade to examine 'em with morenor or'nary care."
"Hah!" shouted Gibault with unwonted energy. "Look! voila! behold!Bounce, you hab great want of `obsarvation.' See!"
Now it chanced that, while Bounce was on his knees, carefully turningover every leaf and blade of grass, his comrade, who remained onhorseback, and kept gazing at the horizon, without any particular objectin view, did suddenly behold an object coming towards them at fullgallop. Hence the sudden outburst, and the succeeding exclamation fromBounce--"It's a hoss!"
"A hoss!" repeated Gibault. "Him be one buffalo I see hims bump."
"The bumps that ye see is neither more nor less than a man leanin'forard--it is."
At this moment the rest of the party rode up, and Redhand confirmedBounce's opinion.
"There's only one, I guess, an' he's in a powerful hurry," observed BigWaller. "But we may as well be ready to fix his flint if he means tocut up rough."
He brought forward his gun as he spoke, and examined the priming.
"I b'l
ieve he's an evil spirit, I do," said Bounce; "wot a pace!"
"More like to de Wild Man of de Vest," observed Gibault.
"Think you so?" whispered Bertram in an anxious tone, with aninvoluntary motion of his hand to the pouch in which lay that marvelloussketch-book of his.
"Think it's him?" said Redhand to Hawkswing.
The Indian gave a slight grunt of assent.
But the strange horseman soon put all doubt on the point at rest bybearing down upon them like a whirlwind, his long hair and tags andscalp-locks streaming in the wind as usual. Dick had a distinct purposein thus acting. He wished to terrify men, or, at least, to impress themwith a wholesome dread of him, in order that he might simply be _letalone_!
He did not check his slashing pace until within four or five bounds ofthe party. Reining up so violently that he tore up the turf for acouple of yards under his horse's heels, he looked at the trappers witha grave, almost fierce expression, for a second or two.
"You come from the Mountain Fort?" he said.
"Yes," replied Redhand.
"All right there?"
"All right. The redskins threatened an attack, but we were too quickfor 'em."
A gleam of satisfaction passed across Dick's face as he added, "You'velost a comrade, han't ye?"
"We jist have," cried Big Waller in surprise. "If you've seed him, Iguess ye'd as well take us to his whereabouts."
"See you yonder pine?" said Dick, pointing back in the direction whencehe had come. "One day's journey beyond that, as the crow flies, willbring you to a valley, level and well watered, with plenty o' beaver init. You'll find him there."
Without waiting a reply Dick turned to ride away.
"I say, stranger," cried Waller (Dick paused), "air you, or air you not,the Wild Man o' the West?"
"Wild fools of the West call me so," replied Dick with a ferociousfrown, that went far to corroborate the propriety of the cognomen in theopinion of the trappers.
"Wall, I tell 'ee wot it is, stranger, Wild Man or not, I guess you'llha' to take us to our comrade yourself, for I'm inclined to opine thatyou know more about him than's good for ye; so if ye try to ride off,I'll see whether a ball--sixteen to the pound--'ll not stop ye, for allyer bigness."
A grim smile curled Dick's moustache as he replied, "If ye think that atrapper's word ain't to be trusted, or that committin' murder 'll do yercomrade a service, here's your chance--fire away!"
Dick wheeled about and cantered coolly away into the thickest part ofthe forest, leaving the trappers gazing at each other in amazement.Bertram was the first to speak.
"Oh, why did you not delay him a few seconds longer? See, I have himhere--all but the legs of his splendid charger."
The others burst into a laugh.
"If ye've got the body all c'rect, it's easy to calculate the legs bythe rules o' proportion, d'ye see?" observed Bounce.
"Come, lads, that's good news about March, anyhow," cried Redhand; "an'I'm of opinion that the Wild Man o' the West an't just so wild as peoplethink. I, for one, will trust him. There's somethin' about the cornerof a man's eye that tells pretty plain whether he's false or true.Depend on't we shall find March where he told us, so the sooner we setoff the better."
Without waiting for a reply, Redhand urged his horse into a gallop, and,followed by his comrades, made for the valley indicated by the Wild Man.
Meanwhile, the Wild Man himself was already far ahead of them, keepingout of sight among the woods, and galloping nearly in the samedirection--for his cave lay not more than four miles from the valley inquestion. Being much better mounted than they, he soon left thetrappers far behind him, and when night closed in he continued hisjourney, instead of halting to eat and take a few hours' rest as theydid. The consequence was that he reached his cave several hours beforethe trappers arrived at the valley, where they expected to find theirmissing comrade.
Of course March was filled with surprise at this second unexpectedreturn of Dick; but the latter relieved his mind by explaining, in anoffhand way, that he had met a man who had told him the Mountain Fortwas all safe, and that his comrades also were safe, and wandering aboutin that part of the country in search of him. After a good deal ofdesultory conversation, Dick turned to his guest with a sad, seriousair, and, fixing his large blue eyes on him, said--
"March, lad, you an' me must part soon."
"Part!" exclaimed the youth in surprise, glancing at Mary, who satopposite to him, embroidering a pair of moccasins.
"Ay, we must part. You'll be well enough in a day or two to travelabout with yer comrades. Now, lad, I want ye to understand me. I'velived here, off and on, for the last fourteen or fifteen years--it maybe more, it may be less; I don't well remember--an' I've niver sufferedmen to interfere wi' me. I don't want them, an' they don't want me."
He paused. There was a slight dash of bitterness in the tone in whichthe last words were uttered; but it was gone when he resumed, in hisusual low and musical voice--
"Now, although I chose to bring you to my cave, because I found yea'most in a dyin' state, an' have let ye into one or two o' my secrets--because I couldn't help it, seein' that I couldn't stop up yer eyes--an'yer ears--yet I don't choose to let yer comrades know anything about me.They've no right to, an' _you_ have no right to tell 'em; so, when yemeet 'em again ye mustn't talk about me or my cave, d'ye see?"
"Certainly," said March, who was both surprised and annoyed by hisspeech, "certainly you have a perfect right to command me to hold mytongue; and, seein' that you've bin so kind to me, Dick, I'm in dutybound to obey; but how can you ask me to put myself in such an awkwardfix? You don't suppose I can make my comrades believe I've bin livin'on air or grass for some days past, an' they'll see, easy enough, thatI've not bin in a condition to help myself. Besides, whatever yournotions may be about truth, mine are of such a sort that they won't letme tell a parcel o' lies to please anybody."
"Far be it from me, boy, to ask ye to tell lies. You can tell yercomrades that you've bin took care of by a trapper as lives in a caveamong the mountains; but you don't need to tell 'em where the cave is;an' if they worry ye to guide 'em to it, ye can refuse. Moreover, jistspeak o' me in an offhand, careless sort o' way, d'ye see? an' beparticular not to tell what I'm like, 'cause it might make 'em take afancy to hunt me up."
There appeared to be a dash of vanity in the latter part of this remark,which surprised March not a little; for it seemed to him quiteinconsistent with the stout hunter's wonted modesty of demeanour andspeech.
"Well, I'm bound to think only o' your wishes in this matter," repliedMarch in a disappointed tone, "an' I'll do my best to prevent mycomrades interfering with ye, tho', to say truth, I don't think you needbe so cautious, for they ain't over-curious--none of 'em. But--" hereMarch paused and glanced at Mary, who, he observed, had dropped her headvery much during the conversation, and from whose eye at that moment abright tear fell, like a diamond, on the work with which she wasengaged.
"But--am I--the fact is, Dick, I feel a little sore that you should sayye had a likin' for me, an' then tell me I must be off, an' never looknear ye again."
"That's wot I never did say, boy," returned Dick, smiling. "Ye may come_alone_ to see me as often as ye like while ye remain in these parts.An' if it please ye, yer at liberty to come an' live wi' me. There'sroom in the mountains for both of us. The cave can hold three if needbe."
March Marston's heart beat quick. He was on the eve of forming a greatresolve! His bosom heaved, and his eye sparkled, as he was about toclose hastily with this proposal, when, again, the memory of his mothercrossed him, and a deep sigh burst from his lips as he shook his head,and said sorrowfully, "It can't be done, Dick. I can't forsake mymother."
"No more ye should, lad, no more ye should," said Dick, noddingapprovingly; "but there's nothin' to prevent your spendin' the winterand spring here, an' returnin' to yer mother next summer."
"Done!" cried March, springing up as well as his bruised muscles wouldp
ermit him, and seizing his friend enthusiastically by the hand. "I'llstop with you and send home word by my comrades that I'll be back insummer. That's capital!"
Mary seemed to be quite of the same opinion, for she looked quickly upwith a beaming smile.
"Well, so it is a good plan," said Dick somewhat gravely; "but don't actin haste, else ye may ha' to repent at leisure. Go an' speak to yercomrades; see what they advise ye to do, an' come again an' let me know.And, now we're on that pint, I may tell ye that yer friends will be atthe head of a valley not four miles from here this very night, an' theyexpect ye there."
"How d'ye know that?" cried March, breathless with amazement.
"Well, ye see, the Wild Man o' the West knows that you're in them parts;he has seed you, an' knows where ye are, an' he met yer comrades, thetrappers, no later than yesterday, an' told 'em they'd find ye in thevalley I spoke of just now; so we must be up an' away to meet 'em."
Dick rose as he spoke and began to make preparation to depart.
"But how came _you_ to know this?" inquired the astonished youth.
"Why, the Wild Man an' me's oncommon intimate, d'ye see? In fact, I maysay we're jist inseparable companions, an' so I come to know it thatway. But make haste. We've no time to lose."
"Good-bye, Mary," cried March with a cheerful smile, as he hurried outof the cave after his eccentric companion. "I'll be back before long,depend on't."
Mary nodded, and the two men were soon mounted and out of sight.
"I say, Dick," observed March as they rode along, "you _must_ get me tosee the Wild Man of the West; if you're so intimate with him, you caneasily bring him into the cave; now _won't_ you, Dick?"
"Well, as I can't help doin' it, I s'pose I may say yes at once."
"Can't help it, Dick! What mean you? I wish ye'd talk sense."
"Hist!" exclaimed the hunter, pulling up suddenly under the shelter of acliff. "Yonder come yer friends, sooner than I expected. I'll leave yehere. They've not seed us yit, an' that wood 'll hide me till I gitaway. Now, March," he added solemnly, "_remember yer promise_."
In another moment the wild hunter was gone, and March rode forward tomeet his comrades, who, having now caught sight of him, came up thevalley at full speed, shouting and waving their caps joyfully as theyapproached. In a shorter space of time than it takes to tell, March wassurrounded, dragged off his horse, passed from one to another, to behandled roughly, in order to make sure that it was really himself, and,finally, was swallowed up by Bounce in a masculine embrace that mightalmost have passed for the hug of a grisly bear.
The Wild Man of the West: A Tale of the Rocky Mountains Page 21
