Buckskin Mose

by George W. Perrie

  CHAPTER IX.

  THE PICK, PAN, AND SHOVEL--SOMEWHAT DOWN IN THE MOUTH--"ROPING IN A GREENEY"--THE SHREWD YANKEE--A SQUARE MEAL, AND A BAD ONE--NO GOLD--NEARLY AT STARVATION POINT--THE ELK, AND HOW LONG IT LASTED--MOUNTAIN MEAT--CAPTURED BY THE INDIANS--MY EXPERIENCE OF THE STAKE--CONVERTED INTO A CANDLESTICK--THE CRACK OF A DOZEN RIFLES.

  In something less than two weeks, my shoulder was completely well, andthe enforced inactivity had made me restless.

  At this time, the vast treasures of gold said to be awaiting the minerin British Columbia, near Frazer's River, created great excitementthrough the West. The fever of this excitement was like all suchfevers--contagious among the idle. Having then nothing to do, I caughtit. In an informal meeting with several of the Rangers, I proposed tothem that we should visit the new land of promise. As they were willingto accompany me, a full meeting was summoned. At this it was unanimouslydetermined that the journey should be undertaken, if we could make it byland.

  After some few days spent in the necessary inquiries, it was finallydecided we should start for the recently discovered locality, wherefortunes were believed to be awaiting the pick, pan, and shovel--asspeedily as we could make due preparation for doing so.

  This did not take any very great length of time. In less than a week thewhole of us were in readiness. And after a kindly, and, in some cases,more than kindly, farewell to our friends in Susanville and round HoneyLake, we put ourselves on the road to the new locality.

  The natural rush and active whirl of my life during the last few years,had, by this, almost deadened my memory for those friends I had left inthe East. He, who is from day to day almost carrying his life in hishand, has not overmuch time or wish for reflection. Occasionally, Iwould think of my wife and my other relatives. But I had not yet madeenough, really to contemplate returning to them. Young still, itappeared to me that there were yet days and years sufficient before me,to dismiss all such dreams for, at any rate, the present.

  In fact, as I have earlier said, I relished the constant change and dashof the life I had entered on.

  It was no use disguising it, my nature was, in every respect, avagrantly instinctive one, full of vaguely wild hope, it is true, yetmingled with an almost profound indifference to what the future chancemight be.

  Nevertheless, on the night before we had determined upon commencing ourarduous journey, I could not help feeling somewhat down in the mouth. Itwas with a rare and scant attack of homesickness, which, however, passedaway from me on the next morning, almost as soon as I found myself inthe saddle.

  It would be unnecessary for me to catalogue the various points wetouched, through our course, in the fashion of a guide-book. This, themore especially as nothing of great interest occurred on the way, until,in due time, we struck Frazer's River, near Fort Hope.

  Here we remained for a few days, in order to give our animals the restthey needed. They had done us good service.

  In this place, we found that the hunger for gold was drawing men of thesame nature as ourselves, to the last-discovered Eldorado, from everypart of the country. Young men who wished to grow wealthy withoutpatient toil, and men more advanced in years, whose days of labor had asyet profited them little, with an occasional "rough" from one of thelarger cities, whose reputation forced him into a new country, or thegambler, whose practice in "stocking the cards" or "roping in agreeney," had become too well known. Some few came also, whose talentsshould have enabled them to do battle with the world successfully, inany location they had chosen. Their reasons for seeking Frazer's Riverwere, however, kept to themselves. None of my companions had sufficienttime on his hands, or enough curiosity, to seek to draw the veil fromthe past life of any of them.

  There were, however, some few who had tried the mines and werereturning. Want of patience or want of luck, one, or, it may bepossible, both of these had conjointly made them unsuccessful.

  With neither gold in their pockets nor grub in their packs, these menwere for the most part dead-broke, and heaped their imprecations on thecountry they were quitting in vigorously round terms. Nor could it besaid, that granting their ill-fortune might somewhat have colored theiropinions, these were too flattering.

  One of these whom we met with, was a stalwart specimen of the shrewdYank. I and Ben Painter had encountered him, wandering round in adisconsolately drifting manner, and with a hungrily wolfish look on hislean jaws, which inspired us with a degree of sympathy. Moreover, wewere mentally "prospecting" the yet unseen diggings. The information hecould give us, might be valuable. So, although provisions were alreadyscarce, and even coffee a luxury, we asked him into the camp to shareour evening meal, which, to tell the truth, was by no means tooplentiful. After feeding, he honored us by saying:

  "'Tarnation bad as yer supper is, it is the first square meal I've eat,for three days."

  "How war that?" Butch' asked.

  "Yer see, in the mines there war nothing to get for love or money. Andhere, I guess, there's darned little love unless yer can buy it."

  "We heard that, up here, you had only to turn a shovel to find gold."

  "And b'lieved it, as I did," he quietly growled out.

  "Yer don't mean to say there are none," ejaculated Ben.

  "I guess yer won't do more than any o' the rest on us."

  "But, some must have had a fair share of success," I said.

  "Why d'yer think so, Captain?" he drawled out, nasally.

  "From the row about the diggings that has been made through the whole ofthe West."

  "Well, I'll tell yer. I was one of the first that come out here, fromKalifornee. I'd been duing a smartish bit of business down thar. But Itell yer, the dollars didn't come in fast enough. Than, I heerd of thisdarned place, and thought I'd strike for it and find 'ile, sure. So, Imade up a good kit o' things to last me two months, and sit out. Darnthe diggings. I've been at work thar, more nor three months, and here Iam at the first square meal I've sot down tu for three days, as I toldyer before, and a darned bad one, too, as I said when I finished it."

  "Then you don't believe there is much gold in this part of the country?"

  "Thar may be, Captain!"

  "What do yer mean, then?" inquired Ben Painter.

  "I found none," drawled out the Yank as he slowly rose, "and by the'Tarnal! I nev'r met one as has."

  The groan that issued from the bottom of Brighton Bill's stomach, would,at any other time than this, have provoked mirth. It did not, however,do so now. The matter was far too serious for laughter.

  If the disgusted Yankee had told us the truth, it was evidently no usefor us to help thicken the crowd of deluded seekers for gold, throngingto the diggings. Provisions, as I have earlier said, were scarce. Theywere consequently dear. Our own stock had for several days been runninglow. What was to be done?

  More inquiries were made by us. The replies, although varying in degree,were all of them confirmatory, more or less, of the Yankee's opinion.

  After a brief council of war, the Rangers, therefore, decided uponstriking once more for Puget Sound, in search of game. If we found it,we would kill enough for us to take our return-trail. Game, however, wasscarcer in that locality than we had found gold to be in theneighborhood of Frazer's River. We had to betake ourselves to digging;not in the soil for the precious metal, but in the sand on the shore ofthe Sound for clams and mussels. Even these were rarely found by us. Inshort, the Rangers and their leader were reduced to the very verge ofstarvation. Nor did we run any risk of meeting any charitable personwho might have the means of giving us "one square meal," even if it were"a darned bad one."

  In this strait, it was resolved on to start for the mountains, and takethe chance of killing or being killed, to save us from dying by hunger.

  Here, for the first two days, we met with scarcely anything. About noonon the third, I and Arnold were standing together. During the wholemorning we had found no game, and were gazing around us with that senseof discomfort a continuously empty stomach is ce
rtain to produce inhumanity, when we heard a shot in the distance. It was to the right ofus. Almost immediately it was followed by another. As the two puffs ofsmoke drifted above the stunted pines which covered the unequally roughground in that direction, I heard a sound which, faintly as it came tous, I immediately recognized, from the use of it by Brighton Bill. Itwas what he called:

  "A 'onest British cheer."

  "You know the voice, Mose?"

  "Yes! Let's break for it."

  We accordingly "broke" in its direction. Three more of the boys hadalready joined him and Ben Painter by the time we had arrived there. Thetwo first mentioned had met with the good fortune of spotting a hugeelk. The animal had been killed, and while still warm, the men wereengaged in skinning him.

  A fire was quickly kindled, and, by the time, portion of the elk wasready for our ravenous appetites, the remainder of the Rangers enteredtheir names as partners in the welcome feast. For, that it was rightwelcome, my present remembrance of it unmistakably assures me.

  Stopping here until we had jerked most of the meat on the elk's largecarcass, we again started on our journey back.

  Having travelled in an easterly course through a magnificently woodedcountry, we reached the Columbia River, near Fort Okimakane, and passingdown it through the territory occupied by the Flat-head tribe ofIndians, arrived at the Walla-Walla. Thence we crossed the BlueMountains; and, after several days' more travelling through the rockywilderness and broken canons, arrived at the Owyhee, which, somedistance higher up, we crossed and continued over the range of hills bythe side of this stream, until we at length reached Surprise Valley.

  We camped in this spot for two weeks, for the purpose of recruiting ourhorses and hunting up game. The jerked elk-flesh was already very nearlybrought to an end.

  It was, while we were in this neighborhood, that I met with an adventurewhich very nearly ended this volume before I had even written a page ofit, if I may be pardoned the Irishism of this expression. But, for theopportune arrival of the Buckskin Rangers, my life would very certainlynot have been worth an empty powder-can.

  Early one sharply fresh morning, I had left the camp in the direction ofHigh Rock Canyon. This was at a distance of some ten miles.

  While upon my way, perhaps some six miles or more, I saw amountain-sheep. Having a liking for wild mutton, I cautiously creptround the cliff upon which he was standing, to get a fair shot at him.At length reaching a spot from which I might consider myself fairly sureof the meat, I fired.

  The shot told, and the animal fell.

  However, instead of dropping where he stood, and where I could notinconveniently have become possessor of the toothsome flesh, theperverse sheep preferred rolling down the cliff.

  Well! It would be some more trouble, but I could easily get him. Itherefore went round to the base of the cliff. On arriving there, Icould not help swearing a most ungodly oath. That wretched lump ofmountain-meat had chosen to remain some half-way from the bottom onwhich I was, and the top of the precipice, on which he had beenstanding.

  My readers may already have been enabled to give me credit for what Iconsider my resolution, although some of my good friends have notunoccasionally denominated it obstinacy.

  It came very decidedly into play, upon this occasion.

  I was determined not to be balked in my love for mountain-mutton. Inaccordance with my resolve, I prepared to climb after it. The face ofthe cliff was so steep and rugged that, in order to have the use of bothmy hands, I was compelled to relinquish my rifle. Therefore, depositingit where I stood, I commenced the ascent. Being a good climber, Inaturally thought I should have no more difficulty than that whichgenerally attends such an operation. Neither, had I. After reaching thejutting point upon which my mutton had so pertinaciously lodged, Idislodged it, and sent it down the rough precipice. It was now time tothink of myself regaining the base of the cliff, in a less rapid mode.But, to descend was no child's play. Now I could not find the footingwhich I remembered previously having. Consequently, I was obliged towriggle my body to one side or the other, in order to find a place torest on. Afterwards, the rock would crumble under me, or fragments uponwhich my feet were resting would slip out of their bedding. Moreover, mysight was utterly useless. I had to depend upon the trained sense offeeling in my moccasined toes. Having covered some space of the face ofthe cliff, I began to find I was not descending it in the same directionin which I had ascended it. The cliff was sloping inwards. Again I hadto climb and try a new line. This was apparently somewhat better.However, placing my feet upon the roots of a sage-bush, I was incautiousenough to trust my whole weight to it.

  It tore out from the face of the cliff.

  When I felt it giving way, I threw out my hands to grasp at somesupport.

  While falling, all the errors and faults I had committed, seemed to rushacross my mind. Why it was, I know not, but the star-like eyes ofClo-ke-ta blazed upon my memory.

  Then I struck the rocky ground beneath me, and, for the time, rememberedno more.

  Upon coming to my senses, I found that my hands were bound behind me.

  Looking with scarcely conscious anger around, I saw several red-skins.

  These, I presume, had been watching me, amusing themselves with mydesperate efforts to descend the cliff, and calculating upon trapping mewhen I reached its foot.

  No sooner had I seen them than the positive danger restored my senses.

  Resistance was, however, useless. Raising me to my feet, they commenceddriving me down the valley. Deliberately, I say, "driving." Nor was thisdriving done by any means in a merciful fashion. It was effected withheavy blows and sharp sticks, which were aimed at and thrust into myribs and sides, with no pity.

  For the moment, however, I was unconscious of this.

  The red devils were going straight in the direction of our camp. GreatGod! If they only did not pause until they arrived there.

  This was a futile hope.

  They paused about two miles and a half from the place where my boyswere. With a vain effort at being heard, I gave vent to a loud shout. Aburly Indian struck me heavily across the mouth to silence what he haplyconsidered my bravado. "I was a white brave, and I knew that I mustdie." It was natural red-skin reasoning.

  Then spitting in my face, he spoke briefly in their guttural tongue, andin a few moments more I had been stripped of all my clothing, andcompelled to stand with my feet about twenty inches apart. Stakes weredriven into the earth by the side of these, to which my legs weretightly lashed. Then, planting in the ground other stakes at a shortdistance, my arms were extended at full length, and bound to them. Acord around my neck was fastened to another stake in my rear. Inaddition to this, two sharpened stakes were planted directly under myarm-pits. It was thus rendered almost impossible for me, even to stir.

  No sooner had this been effected, than the entertainment, for such theyevidently considered it, commenced.

  The _Mahalas_ or squaws had been pointing splinters of grease-wood,about three inches in length. As the braves danced round me, whooping,yelling, or singing one of their wild war-songs, the squaws would strikethe pointed splinters into my flesh and leave them sticking in it. Aftersomewhat wearying of their share in this cheerful pandemonium, thebraves would squat upon the earth and rest, while their squaws subjectedme to more horrible torture than the mind of the white could conceivewithout personal experience. Human excrement was thrust in my face, andrubbed over my mouth. When they would pause awhile, it seemed as if theywere only trying to invent some more disgusting and possibly morepainful mode of torture.

  "The braves would squat upon the earth and rest, whiletheir squaws subjected me to more horrible tortures than the mind couldconceive without personal experience."--_Page 141._]

  But what is the use of prolonging such a recital?

  This infernal orgy was kept up until night set in, when the climax oftheir devilish fury was capped by their taking burning brands from thefires which had been kindled, and igniting the splinters
of grease-woodwhich they had thrust in my body.

  It is absolutely impossible by mere words to convey any idea of even thetenth part of the agony which this caused me. Ten thousand needles,red-hot, seemed to be piercing my flesh and stabbing me in every part ofmy body with their lancing flame.

  Up to this moment, I had not abandoned all hope.

  Perhaps, the boys might come up in time to save me.

  In my now maddening suffering, I actually prayed that it might end.Heaping every species of opprobrium on the red demons, that I could, inmy own tongue, I added to them such galling Indian terms as I had beenable to pick up during my life in the West. These were notover-numerous, but they would have been more than sufficient to haveinspired the incarnate devils with a greater fury, and, in a few momentsmore, I should have been quit of all the trouble and suffering of theworld in which I had been a dweller.

  As this desire was surging incontrollably above my bodily agony, I heardthe crack of a dozen rifles.

  The same number of the Indians dropped in the very places on which theyhad been sitting or standing, and I knew that I was saved.