Les outlaws du Missouri. English

by Gustave Aimard

  CHAPTER IX.

  THEY MAKE AN ACQUAINTANCE.

  That part of the valley towards which they were going had undergoneno change. The squatters had had no time to visit it, and it retainedall its original beauty and primitive majesty. George Clintonappeared fully to know his way, entering at full gallop on the mostout-of-the-way and rugged paths, followed by Samuel Dickson, who was ina charming humour, and appeared delighted to explore this part of hisdomains, for all on that side of the valley was his present from hisbrother.

  "You ride as if you had known the country ten years at least," he said.

  "I came here about a month before you, but I have been everywhere withCharbonneau."

  "Who may Charbonneau be?"

  "My hunter, a great big Canadian, as long as a fishing rod, as thin asa nail, and as honest as a Newfoundland dog. I got him out of a verygreat scrape, and he has been devoted to me ever since."

  "Lucky for you."

  "More than you think. This fellow was brought up in an Indian tribe;his life has been spent more or less in the desert. He has friendseverywhere with trappers, with white and half-caste hunters; speaks allthe most difficult redskin dialects, and despite his youth--he is notmore than three-and-twenty--enjoys a great reputation on the prairie.He is called Keen-hand, because of his prodigious dexterity."

  "An excellent servant," said Samuel.

  "And a capital companion--always gay and contented; whichever waythings go, he is always so philosophical I cannot but admire him. He isa perfect study. As an instance, he declared some time ago no squatterwould ever see this place and go further."

  "He was not far wrong. He is a sharp youth."

  "You are right; but you shall judge for yourself."

  "Then he has told you all about this country?" asked Samuel.

  "In what way?" said George.

  "I suppose he described the situation of the valley--its distance fromall habitations?"

  "Don't you know?" cried George.

  "I know nothing. We have been travelling in the dark, and should all beglad of information."

  "In the first place, two rivers cross the valley; that near you flowsfrom the mountains of the Wind; the other, into which it discharges itswaters, is the Missouri."

  "Heavens! The Missouri! Then it runs through part of the United States.We are at home."

  "Very nearly, though you are surrounded by red men, who, though verywarlike, are generally friendly to the whites. Still, if you know theredskins you will not depend on them."

  "Too true; and what nations are they?" he asked.

  "Sioux and Dakotas, Piekanns, Crows, Hurons of the great lakes, withsome Assiniboins and Mandans. A few others of no account are scatteredabout," he answered.

  "A pretty lot; and no help near."

  "Help is nearer than you think. About fifty miles distant is a fortbelonging to one of the great fur companies. It has a garrison of fiftywhites--Americans and Canadians, soldiers and hunters."

  "Fifty miles is nothing," said Samuel.

  "In a civilised country, yes; but in the desert it is as bad as fiftyleagues," responded Clinton.

  "I did not think of that," granted the squatter; "well, then, on theother side, what neighbours have we?"

  "Some squatters, like yourselves, who have been two years on theMissouri. You are halfway between the two."

  "Have these squatters much cultivated land?"

  "They have been going ahead lately. It is already almost a village;soon it will be a town. But anyway, on one side or the other you areseparated from men of your own colour by several Indian nations, whosevillages it would be dangerous to visit, except in large numbers. Infact your only open route is the Missouri."

  "That is something; but, if easy to go down, it is hard to ascend."

  "Besides, both sides swarm with redskins."

  "Hum! My dear George, that spoils all. What could put it into the madhead of my brother to bring us here? He is a lunatic; for the matter ofthat, so am I."

  George could not help laughing.

  "Laugh away, you young rascal," said the squatter; "but if we have toleave our bones here?"

  "I hope it will not be so," replied George.

  "Jehoshaphat! So do I. Your information is not pleasant; still I thankyou. It is best to know the worst."

  While speaking they kept on at as rapid a pace as the state of theground allowed. They had left the forest, and had come out upon a greenprairie, when suddenly they heard a gun fired.

  "What is that?" cried the squatter.

  "Charbonneau. I know the sound. Wait a minute."

  And Clinton fired his rifle in the air.

  Next instant there was a rush from out of a thicket, and twomagnificent dogs of the same breed as Dardar came rushing out of athicket, and, leaping at the young man to beg a caress, continued atthe same time to growl at the squatter.

  "Down, dogs, down!" cried the young man. "Down, I say, Nadeje, miss,and you the same, Drack; don't be mischievous. This gentleman, myfine fellows, is a friend; go and welcome him, to show what brave andintelligent beasts you are."

  As if they had understood what their master said, the two dogs ceasedto growl, and, going straight to Samuel Dickson, leaped up at him inthe most friendly way. The squatter, a great dog fancier, was verymuch struck by their beauty, and at once caressed them with many aword of praise, which pleased both, but especially Miss Nadeje; shewas a magnificent animal, with an almost pure white skin, spotted onlyhere and there with black, and at once took the squatter under herguardianship.

  Almost at the same moment a man appeared in the full costume of ahunter, a man with rather angular but very intelligent features; in hishand was the still-smoking gun. He bowed, and called off the dogs.

  "Pardieu!" he cried, "That was a lucky shot of mine."

  "Were you hunting?" asked the other, shaking hands.

  "At this hour it were folly, and I am not yet mad. Sport is only goodmorning and evening, is it not?"

  "That is my opinion," replied the squatter.

  "Mr. Samuel Dickson, one of my best friends," said George, "and I hopesoon one of yours."

  "I hope so; I like his looks," laughed Charbonneau.

  "Thank you," said the squatter.

  "It is quite unnecessary, only I don't say the same to everybody. But Ihave known you some time."

  "If not hunting, what were you doing?" asked George.

  "Something has happened at the wigwam. Three travellers, two whitehunters and an Indian chief, have reached your house, and demandedhospitality," he replied.

  "Of course you did not refuse?"

  "Of course I did not. Besides, two of the hunters are my friends, andthe other is likely to become so."

  "You know you are welcome to act; still, why look for me?"

  "Well, I did not exactly look for you, but I wanted to give youwarning; of course, I knew where you had gone."

  The young man blushed, while the old man laughed.

  "Now, then," cried Clinton, "let us go home."

  "Wait one moment. About fifty yards in my rear the dogs opened cry. Iran and found--"

  "A bear?" exclaimed the squatter.

  "No, I would not have minded that. It was not a bear, but a man. Hewas lying insensible on the ground, his skull split open from a heavyfall, and a shot wound in his left arm. His horse was grazing close by.He appeared to be a traveller traitorously shot by an Indian. I thoughtI heard an explosion; at all events, the wretch fled before the dogs,just as he was about to rob the unfortunate."

  "You assisted him?"

  "How could I help it? I could not let him die like a skunk on the road;and yet it would have been wiser."

  "Charbonneau!" cried the young man, "Is that really you?"

  "You know me well, Master George. Well, despite myself, I don't likethe look of this man, though he is handsome enough. He has a terribleexpression, and you know it takes something to move me. Still, I feelan invincible repugnance for this man, whom I never saw before.
Thedogs were like myself; I had the greatest difficulty to prevent themtearing him to pieces. Nadeje was like a mad creature; she wanted tostrangle him. Do you know, Master George, dogs never make a mistake?"

  "A very good thing," said George Clinton; "but the man is wounded,likely to die. We are bound to succour him."

  "I know it, and have done so. I have seen to him as I would to myselfor one of my dogs. Still, Master George, mark my words, it is a bitterfoe you shelter under your roof."

  "It may be so, but we must do our duty."

  "As you please. Still I shall watch him."

  "Where is he?"

  "Just under yonder cluster of oaks, which you see from here. It wasafter dressing his wound I fired a shot on chance."

  "Did he say nothing?" asked George.

  "He is still quite insensible."

  "Let us join him, and if the dogs are so ill-disposed towards thestranger, watch them carefully."

  "All right, Master George. Be quiet, dogs," said the hunter, turningback, followed by the two great dogs, the others making up the rear.

  The cluster of oaks was soon reached; the wounded man still lay withoutlife; the dogs howled, but, at a sign from Keen-hand, they stood backsilent.

  George and Samuel alighted, and examined the man.

  He was a tall, well made, even elegant man of about thirty orthirty-five; he was deadly pale; his features were well chiselledand delicate; his long, jet black hair fell in waving curls on hisshoulders; a black crisp beard hid the lower part of his face; hismouth, large and slightly open, showed magnificent teeth of dazzlingwhiteness; his strong and aquiline nose gave a terribly hard expressionto his face, while his eyes, far too close together, and which wereshut, were shaded by long lashes, and crowned by heavy eyebrows thatalmost touched.

  The very sight of the man inspired instinctive repulsion, somethinglike a chill, that sensation of terror and disgust which one feels atthe sight of a reptile; still the man was handsome and elegant; he waswell dressed, and his weapons were superior; his horse was extremelyvaluable.

  He was, to all appearance, a prince among adventurers.

  "Hum!" muttered Samuel Dickson, who was the first to speak; "I don'tlike his look at all."

  "No more do I," said George; "still, we cannot let him die."

  "Certainly not, since Providence has sent him here. Are we far fromyour hut?" replied Samuel.

  "Not far off, are we, Charbonneau? But, then, how can we carry him?"continued George; "I don't see anything except a litter."

  "Too long. Leave all to me. I will mount his horse; you can hand him upto me; I will then carry him in my arms to the wigwam--what say you?"

  "Admirable!" cried George, as Charbonneau mounted and stood still,awaiting his burden.

  George and Samuel then placed him before the guide. Charbonneau pressedhis head against his chest, and started.

  Going slowly, they were an hour on the journey.

  The wigwam, as the hunter called it, was a charming habitation built ofwood, upon the summit of an eminence, round which ran a silver stream,lined with well-constructed palisades.

  "Your house is delicious," said Samuel Dickson, examining theresidence. "You should be very comfortable."

  "My good friend, I want for nothing except happiness."

  "Are you going to have the blues again?" said Samuel.

  "You know I hardly dare hope," replied George.

  "You are very foolish. When you are rich, young, and loved, MasterGeorge, you ought to hope for the best."

  "You are very cruel to joke with me."

  "I do not joke, I only try to inspire you with courage. But, look, hereare your guests coming to meet you, while your servants seem to me tobe rather muddled and mixed," observed Samuel.

  "It is the first time they have ever seen strangers."

  "Then," said Samuel, laughing, "they will have a change today."

  Three persons were advancing in the direction of the advancing troop.They were Bright-eye, Numank-Charake, the Huron chief, and Oliver.

  They bowed ceremoniously to Clinton, who renewed the invitation givenby Charbonneau; and then alighting, the wounded man was carried byBright-eye and Oliver to the best bedroom, placed on the master'sown couch, and at once attended to by one of the domestics, who knewsomething of medicine.

  "What a disagreeable face!" murmured Oliver.

  "He does not look pleasant," said Bright-eye.

  "'Tis the face of a traitor," said the Indian chief, sententiously; "heshould have been allowed to die."

  "Hum!" cried Keen-hand; "There are others of my opinion."

  "Let my brother watch carefully," remarked the Indian.

  "Be not uneasy," smiled Charbonneau.

  "In my opinion," said Bright-eye, "this man is one of the outlaws ofthe desert. I have seen him somewhere before. I must not only thinkover the matter, but put the master of the house on his guard."

  Meanwhile the four men rejoined Clinton and Samuel Dickson in thedrawing room, where copious refreshments awaited them.