The Edward S. Ellis Megapack

by Edward S. Ellis

  When the Irishman was tired he passed the paddle to Howard, who had been carefully studying the “style” of Shasta, and whose efforts were modeled after his. Practice alone can make perfect, no matter if the theory in absolutely so. The mind may hold the exact idea, and may send the precise message through the nerves to the muscles, but the latter must make a good many trials before they can carry out orders with exactness.

  And so the boy, although, as he believed, he imitated exactly the manner of their dusky friend, was not long in finding that the paddle was by no means as obedient. The reason was that the delicate play of the iron muscles of the Pah Utah could not be seen. They had done this thing so often that it became a matter of course with them.

  But having started upon right principles, by the time the boy was so exhausted that he could not move his arms, he could see that he had improved, or as the sovereign people say, “he was getting the knack of it.” It was now Elwood’s turn, and he caught the paddle with all the enthusiasm which might be expected in a youngster who had been impatiently waiting to take part in some game.

  By the time Elwood needed rest, Tim O’Rooney was ready, and so the paddle did unceasing work, each member having all the time necessary for rest, until after they had been to work some hours, the boys found their arms remained tired, and a longer cessation needed.

  Shasta seemed to look upon these essays of his friends with no little pleasure. He watched their movements all the time, and a horrible suspicion once entered the head of Tim O’Rooney that he saw him come very near smiling. Whether there were any grounds for this suspicion probably will never be known, unless the Pah Utah takes it into his head to write and tell us.

  Shasta remained a few feet in advance, his back being placed toward the prow of his own boat. This relative position—and our “pale faced” friends, it may be said, labored savagely—was kept by him without any effort. Now and then he touched the point of his paddle, but there was scarcely a ripple. It was as a fish is sometimes seen to move through the water with the slightest quiver of its fins.

  When all three of our friends were used up, red in the face, panting and sighing for a chance to take a good long rest, a tiny island came in view round a bend in the river, and to their joy they saw Shasta fix his eye upon it and then head his canoe toward the point. Cheered by the prospect, they renewed their work with greater ardor, and in a few moments the boats buried their points in the luxuriant undergrowth along the shore.

  The island was quite small, and offered no inducements in the way of game, unless some animal in crossing the river had paused to rest itself and make an exploration of the place. This was scarcely to be expected, and none of the party based any hopes upon it.

  After the inmates of the large canoe had stepped upon shore, Shasta sent his backward into the river again by a sweep of his paddle, and headed for the eastern bank, shooting over the surface with amazing speed. His movements were watched with interest and some surprise.

  “What can it mean?” asked Elwood.

  “Perhaps he is going to leave us.”

  “I don’t think he would do it in that manner. He will make an elaborate good-by for us, for we are getting to understand each other quite well by means of signs.”

  “Arrah now!” exclaimed Tim O’Rooney, “didn’t ye saa that he was disgusted wid our paddling and kaaping him back, and has gone out jist that he may enj’y the pleasure of shtretching his arms in the owld-fashioned manner, as Father O’Shaughnessy said when he tipped over his brother?”

  This may have satisfied the Irishman, but hardly the boys. It did not look reasonable to them that the Indian, having just finished three times the amount of work performed by each, was in so great need of additional exercise that he must abandon his friends and paddle off over the river.

  “I think he is going to hunt for fish,” said Elwood.

  “But he could have caught them without going to land.”

  “Perhaps not. I noticed yesterday that he went where there was a sort of eddy, and you see he can’t find that very well unless it is close by land.”

  Howard pointed to the lower end of the island:

  “What better place could he find than that? It is just the spot to catch fish.”

  By this time Shasta’s canoe had reached the bank, but instead of landing he turned the prow down stream, and slowly glided along as if in quest of something. This to Tim O’Rooney was proof of the truth of his declaration.

  “What did I tell yees? The thrip to shore was not enough, and he’s taking a wee turn further.”

  “He is looking for a good fishing ground,” affirmed Howard. “If it were anything else he would not go so slowly.”

  “But, see! he has stopped?”

  As Elwood spoke the Pah Utah rose in his canoe and stepped ashore. He stooped and employed himself a moment with the canoe and then disappeared.

  “It cannot be that he has left us,” said Elwood, in considerable alarm.

  “No; I think he is hunting for game.”

  This seemed very reasonable, and the party waited patiently for his return. No personal danger to himself could be expected, as he could not be approached undiscovered by any hostile white man, and being an Indian he could have no cause to fear anything from his own race.

  Still there was a vague misgiving that everything was not right—that something unusual would be the result of this separation—and each member of the little party awaited, with more anxiety than he would have confessed, some evidence of the intention of the Pah Utah.

  CHAPTER XXXIV

  Exit Shasta

  The three whites were still gazing toward the eastern shore, intently looking for some sign, or listening to some sound which might tell something regarding Shasta, when they were startled by a loud whirring or buzzing overhead, and looking up saw a large bird passing within a few feet of them—so close that its claws could be seen curled up against its body, as it made a sudden sweep to the right, frightened at its near approach to its human enemies.

  “Shoot it!” called out Elwood to Howard. “My gun isn’t loaded, and it will make us a good breakfast.”

  But the bird, whatever it was, did not choose to wait until the heavy rifle could be brought to bear upon it; and by the time Howard had fairly got the idea through his head, it was skimming away over the country toward the Coast Range.

  But a sharper eye and an unerring aim was leveled against it, and as they were watching its flight it suddenly turned over and over, its great wings going like the arms of a windmill as it dropped swiftly to the earth; and, as it disappeared in the trees and undergrowth, the crack of a rifle came across the intervening space.

  “That was Shasta!” exclaimed Elwood in delight.

  “Certainly, we might have known what he was after. He thinks we do not admire fish as a steady diet and has gone after fowl for us.”

  “I don’t know about that,” said Elwood, who sometimes seemed to alternate with Howard in his knowledge of the ways of the wood. “I can’t see that there was any more chance of seeing birds there than upon the island. That same fowl passed closer to us than it did to him.”

  “I suppose,” laughed Howard, “that he was hunting after game of some kind, and had no idea of shooting the bird until it passed so near him that he saw it was quite the thing we needed, and so he toppled it over.”

  “Me views intirely,” assented Tim. “I agraas wid both of yees.”

  A few moments later the Pah Utah appeared with the bird in his hand, and flinging it into the canoe quickly paddled back to the island. His bird proved to be a species of wild goose, that seemed to have strayed from its flock and gone wandering through the Salinas Valley at this season of the year ultimately to fall before the rifle of Shasta.

  Our friends were in ecstasies over their prospective meal. The Indian displayed the same skill in dressing the bird that he did in preparing the fish. The feathers were quickly twitched off, and the dry driftwood piled upon the upper end of the isla
nd was the best fuel they could have had for the purpose. When done, it was “done brown,” and to a turn; and to the famishing travelers nothing could have been more savory and luscious.

  The truth of it was, the boys found that this kind of life was agreeing with them amazingly. Their appetites were fierce, their sleep sound, and a feeling of perfect health diffused itself through their glowing frames, such as they had never known before. Their exposure to the night air troubled them at first, but they soon recovered from it and enjoyed “camping out” as thoroughly as did old campaigners.

  It was a very good thing, it is true, for a while; but don’t let any boys get the idea of following their example, unless they are compelled in precisely the same manner to do so. If any youngster imagines he has formed true ideas of distant countries from the narratives of adventures which he may have read, he will find himself most woefully mistaken. Never think of traveling until you are a married man, and by that time you will have made up your mind to be sensible and stay at home.

  When the meal was finished, and their appetites satisfied, the Pah Utah, instead of immediately embarking, walked to the lower end of the island, and stood for some time apparently examining some sign further down the river. Following the direction of his eyes, our friends could see nothing unusual until Elwood detected something in the air on the western bank which at first resembled a light cloud, but which they imagined might be caused by a camp-fire.

  Whatever it was that attracted the attention of Shasta he took but a few moments to decide regarding it. Going again to his canoe, he entered it without a word or sign, and paddled away at his swiftest rate straight toward it, while his companions watched the proceeding with as much interest as in the preceding case.

  The camp appeared fully a half-mile distant, and it took but a short time for the Indian to reach a point opposite, when he sprung lightly ashore and disappeared with his usual celerity.

  “He is cautious,” remarked Elwood. “He doesn’t wish us to undertake to pass it unless he is sure there will be no trouble.”

  “A sinsible young man!” asserted Tim. “His parents have the best raison for faaling proud of so promising a young gintleman.”

  “And so have we.”

  A few moments elapsed, when the Pah Utah reappeared and came back as rapidly as he went.

  The first thing he did upon reaching the island was again to fasten the boats together, and then motion to the three to enter. This, of course, they did without delay, and took their usual positions.

  But Shasta was not satisfied. He told them, in his manner, to lie down; and not until the three had so arranged themselves as to be invisible from both shores, did he dip his paddle and resume his journey.

  “This means danger,” said Elwood. “He doesn’t wish any one to know we are in the boats.”

  “And we must be sure and obey him.”

  “It’s aisy doing, as my brother used to say whin his wife tould him, in her gintle manner, by the help of her broomstick, to go to bed.”

  “And, Elwood, you are close to Terror, see that he doesn’t let his curiosity got the better of his judgment.”

  The Pah Utah was satisfied, and now began plying his paddle. It was difficult for the three so to govern their curiosity as not to peep over the side of the canoe; but there were good reasons for their not doing so, and they scarcely moved a limb for the next hour.

  They had gone but a little way when Terror raised his head and uttered a slight bark; but a word from Elwood quieted him. Finally, Shasta paused and uttered a guttural sound in his own tongue, which was taken as permission for them to rise.

  As they did so, they looked behind. The dim smoke ascending in the summer sky was seen far behind, and between it and them the Salinas made another bend, so that they had no cause to fear observation from that party at least.

  Shasta again disconnected the two canoes—an act which did not surprise them; but his next proceeding astonished them a good deal.

  Reaching across the boats, he shook hands with them all, at the same time muttering a word or two to each.

  “He is going to leave us,” said Elwood, with an air of disappointment.

  “He has good reason for doing so, but I am afraid it will be bad for us.”

  “Adieu, Mr. Shasta, adieu!” said Tim O’Rooney, with considerable feeling. “You’ve done us a good turn and we’ll not forget you. If yez ever drifts into San Francisco, give us a call.”

  The Indian motioned to them to proceed, and using his paddle with his extraordinary skill, he sped up the river toward the camp-fire, and in a very short time vanished.

  CHAPTER XXXV

  The Western Shore

  The departure of Shasta gave rise to all manner of doubt and speculation. None of them believed he meditated bidding the party good-by until he went through the ceremony of shaking hands. This settled the matter, and they could have no cause for hope of seeing him again.

  “That must have been a party of his people,” said Howard, “or he would not have taken the pains to help us out of sight.”

  “At any rate, he has done us good service,” replied Elwood. “I don’t know what would have become of us but for him.”

  They had not yet begun using their paddle, but were drifting with the current, debating upon their course of action.

  “I think I understand why he left us,” added Howard, after a moment’s pause.

  Tim and Elwood looked up in his face.

  “I think we have passed through most of the danger, and he thought we were just as safe without him as with him. Don’t you see, Elwood, that we have come a good ways down the river, and we must be near some settlement. I think there is a place called Soledad somewhere along this river, but whether on the eastern or western bank I cannot tell.”

  “It is a good ways off, I should say fifty miles, and is on the western bank.”

  “How comes it that you are so well informed?” asked Howard, repeating the question that had been asked him by his cousin when on the steamer.

  “It is only accidentally that I know that. A few weeks ago I was comparing an old and new geography and noticed what different views they gave of the western part of our country. The old maps had the Buenaventura so wrong in every particular that I learned considerable about the true one, which you know is called Salinas by most people.”

  “If we are very careful, I think we can get home without trouble; but although there must be white people—settlers and miners—in these parts, still they are so scattered that we are less likely to see them than we are the Indians.”

  “Boys,” said Tim O’Rooney, who had not let his pipe go out since morning. “Shall I give yez some good advice?”

  Both expressed their eagerness to receive it.

  “There bees plenty of the rid gintlemen yet in this counthry, and we haven’t got beyant them. If we goes paddling in this canoe when the sun is shining overhead, some of ’em will see us, and if we don’t put into shore they’ll put out after us—that they will.”

  “What is it that you propose, then?”

  “That we turns the night into day, and slaaps and smokes and meditates by sunlight, and does our traveling by moonlight, or what is bether, without any light at all.”

  This proposal suited the boys exactly. It was so plainly dictated by common sense that the wonder was they had not thought of it long before. Elwood took the paddle in his hand and held it poised.

  “Which way—east or west?”

  Howard pointed to the left bank.

  “That is the side where they are,” replied Elwood, referring to the Indian party they had passed.

  “And where he is,” meaning their good friend, the Pah Utah.

  “To the left—to the left,” said Tim. “Didn’t I git into the worst throuble of me life—always barring the repulse me Bridget give me—by hunting in them parts?”

  Elwood delayed no longer, but plied the oars with a dexterity that showed his experience had not been lost upon him
.

  “You understand it quite well,” said Howard approvingly.

  “Yes; but my arms ache terribly.”

  “Ah! here we are.”

  The prow of the canoe moved as silently and easily into the undergrowth as if it were water, and our friends at a step passed from every portion of it to dry land.

  As they intended remaining in their present quarters until darkness, they took some pains to select a suitable place. They finally hit upon a spot, on an incline of the river bank, and about a dozen yards distant. Here the grass was green and velvety, and the wood so thick that they had little fear of discovery, unless by some who had seen them land and took the trouble to hunt them out.

  It was about noon when they landed, and as they had all spent a wakeful night, their first proceeding was so to arrange themselves as to enjoy a quiet sleep. Terror was placed on duty as sentinel, and all lay down with a sense of security to which they had been strangers in a long time.

  As usual, the boys were the first to awake, doing so almost at the same moment. They saw by the sun that the afternoon was about half gone, but they were not troubled from hunger, as their morning meal may be said to have been their midday one, and had been one of those royal ones whose memory is apt to linger a long time with us, especially if we are boys.

  “This is tiresome,” said Elwood, yawning and stretching his limbs, “let us take a tramp of discovery.”

  The proposal suited Howard, although prudence told him to remain where he was and keep his friend with him. But the restraint was so irksome that he was all too willing a listener to the persuasions of his companion.

  “I noticed there was quite a high range of hills just back of us,” added Elwood. “Let’s take a look at them.”

  “Is it prudent?” and Howard only repeated audibly the question that his conscience had just asked him.

  “Prudent? Of course it is, if we only take good care of ourselves.”

  “Shall we awake Tim before we go?”

  “No; he will sleep until tomorrow morning.”