The Edward S. Ellis Megapack

by Edward S. Ellis

  “Hist!” she whispered, “there is some one.”

  I turned on the defensive. In an instant Jim stood beside me.

  “How soon goin’?” he asked, anxiously, turning toward me.

  “Shortly; why do you ask?”

  “Day clus comin’, and if you cotched, no use!” he replied, meaningly.

  “I was not aware, Jim, that I had enemies among you.”

  “You hain’t; but—”

  The rest of the sentence was gesticulated, first pointing to me and the fair one beside me.

  “Do you not understand?” asked the latter. “There are several in the tribe who look upon me with envious eyes, and were they conscious that you knew of my existence, you would not be spared a moment. This is what Jim means, and his words must be heeded.”

  “Must I travel afoot and alone?” I asked of the Indian.

  “There’s the hoss what tossed you over the buffler there,” he answered, pointing to a clump of trees, “and I’ve brought you them other things,” he added, handing me my knife, powder-horn, and rifle,“and I’ll show you through the woods to the peararie.”

  “Thank you; but I shall not need you, as I know the way well enough.”

  “How soon you goin’ to start?” he asked, turning to depart.

  “In less than an hour I shall bid you farewell.”

  “Jim,” interposed the fair captive, “bring my horse to the same spot. I think I shall also leave for home tonight. If inquiry is made, you can tell them this, and add that I shall probably be with them in a few days again. As I know the wilderness well, I will guide our friend here through it.”

  The savage looked cautiously at us both. If he was shrewd enough to suspect the truth, he was polite enough not to show it. He replied that her wish should be gratified, and he disappeared as noiselessly as he came. It was now getting far in the night. The moon rode high in the heavens, and shed a full, perfect light down upon us.

  “So you are going,” said I, looking at her.

  “I am going to attempt it,” she answered, firmly.

  “And through no action of mine shall you ever regret this step,” I added, warmly.

  “Oh! I hope he will soon return, for I wish to go,” she said, as with a shiver of apprehension she looked hurriedly about in the dark shadows of the forest.

  “As yet, we know not each other’s names,” said I, pleasantly.

  “True,” she answered, with a faint smile. “Mine is Imogene Merment.”

  “And mine is William Relmond; but where can Jim be?”

  “Ah! there he is now,” she answered, with a deep flush; and the next minute the savage stood beside us.

  “The animals are there; and I’m thinking you’d better be off. Soon as you git away, I’ll cover up the hole, so thee won’t think him has crawled out; but I’m much afeared there am some peeking about here.”

  “We will go at once,” said Imogene, gathering up her dress.

  I turned to give a last word to Jim, but he had vanished.

  “Let us hurry,” said she, “for I have a dread that we are watched, and will not get away after all. I pray God that nothing may prevent us, now that we are started.”

  She almost ran, and in a minute we reached the grove referred to. Here we found two horses saddled and bridled, and ready for a journey. Without losing a moment, we mounted and struck to the northward.

  “Why this direction, Imogene?” I asked.

  “To avoid pursuit,” she answered. “At daylight we will change it, and proceed to the south-east.”

  The open prairie was some miles distant, and as long as we were in the deep shadows of the wood, the greatest danger was to be apprehended. It was more than probable that the extended absence of Jim and Imogene, at the same time, had aroused the suspicions of more than one savage. As all must have known that I was buried while still living, and that she had battled their determination as long as there was hope, when the morning came and showed her abrupt departure, they could not help suspecting the true cause.

  The air was cool and exhilarating, and, as my fiery animal pranced beside that of Imogene, I could not restrain the wild, ardent hopes that thrilled my being. I was homeward bound with the fairest prize of the universe to me. What else could be needed? Ah! there was the fate of Nat, my companion, still shrouded in obscurity. I determined to question her at once in regard to him.

  “Imogene, although this is hardly the proper moment, I cannot help questioning you about the fate of a friend of mine.”

  “I know to whom you refer,” she answered, quickly. “I have heard him speak of you, but he does not know of your existence. He is a captive like yourself, save that he seems perfectly contented with his fate.”

  “Thank heaven! it seems indeed that a wonderful Providence is watching over all of us.”

  “I believe he can effect his escape, but it must be through your instrumentality, for I will not dare to show myself under the circumstances.”

  “Good, clever Nat, I will do anything for him,” I exclaimed, warmly.“He is a whole-souled fellow, for all he is so odd. Only to think, he has been so nigh me all this time! Of course, it is my place to assist him, as far as lies in my power.”

  “I have had several conversations with him, in all of which he spoke of you. He appeared to love you, and regretted greatly that you were so reckless. He said he had long striven to teach you how to hunt with caution, but never succeeded. He also referred to a trapper named Bill Biddon, the one who did his best to save our family when they fell victims to the savages, and who I would give all the world to see. He said he succeeded, after several years, in making quite a hunter of him.”

  “Oh! the rascal,” I laughed, “just like him.”

  When day dawned we continued our journey for several hours. I learned in the course of our conversation that Imogene Merment wandered continually among the tribes for many miles around, and, as I learned in after years, her existence was known to points as far opposite as Fort Churchill and Fort Hall.4

  At noon I shot a ptarmigan, which was cooked and upon which we made a hearty dinner. Imogene ascended a small eminence to ascertain whether any signs of pursuit were visible. None were discovered, but we hurried forward until nightfall, when we drew up for the night. We started a fire, and at my urgent request, Imogene lay down beside it, while I kept watch. Our horses were picketed at scarcely a rod distant, and yet in the night they became so terrified at the approach of some animal, that they broke loose and fled, and we never saw them again.

  This was a great loss to us, but in the morning we continued our journey on foot, and at noon ascended a high mountain, which was a spur of the Black Hills, lying between the Yellowstone and Missouri. The day was a clear, beautiful one, and the fairest peaks of the mountains, looming up against the blue, far-off horizon, formed a fine background to the glorious landscape spread out before us. Never shall I forget the magnificent scene which was opened to our vision. To the north, the mighty wilderness stretched in one unbroken tract as far as the eye could reach, while to the southward the glistening waters of the vast rivers could be seen, winding and losing their tortuous channels in the forest again. Numerous patches of prairie were visible to the west, and small, dark specks moving over their face, showed us that animal life was not wanting in this favored country. South of us, nestling in a deep valley, could be seen the tiny beehive-like lodges of the tribe we had left, seemingly covering scarcely a square rod of ground.

  “Yonder,” said Imogene, pointing to the northward, “is the tribe which holds your friend. The village is two days’ journey, but the course is direct, and you cannot fail to find it. If you wish to search for him, I will remain here until you return. I should wish to approach no nearer, as it would increase the danger to both of us. Your friend has hunted with the tribe in this mountain, and should you be at a loss to find me again, ask him to guide you to the ‘Death Rock,’ and you will reach me by the most direct course.”

  I hesitated
long before leaving Imogene, but my duty to Nat, and the hopeful view she took of it, finally decided me. She was confident I should find him and be back in a few days, and urged me to delay no longer. We repaired to the “Death Rock,” where we separated. Imogene was familiar with its peculiarities, and assured me that in its recesses she could find security from any animal foe.5 Before leaving her, I saw that she was provided with food sufficient to last a week at least, and as she was furnished with a rifle and ammunition, her situation was certainly as good as my own.

  CHAPTER XI

  The Brigade and an Old Friend

  After bidding Imogene good-by, I started on a rapid pace to the northward. At night I kindled a fire by which I slept in safety, and at an early hour resumed my journey. The character of the country continued much the same—broad belts of prairie relieved by groves of trees and streams of considerable magnitude. Birds of all kinds whirred through the air and sang within the wood, and the dark forms of wild animals were more than once seen gamboling in the distance.

  At noon I reached the banks of a river, so large that I was pretty certain it was the Yellowstone, and hence was able to judge pretty correctly of my locality. The river was very broad, and it was quite a serious undertaking to cross it; but, nevertheless, it had to be done, and I commenced making my preparations.

  As I was stepping in, a sound of voices struck me. I paused and listened, and soon could hear the loud, regular swelling song gradually approaching nearer and nearer, and at stated intervals the powerful chorus. There was something in the sound of this song, at such a time, that was indescribably stirring and inspiriting; and, as it came nigher and nigher, and grew louder, its power increased. Hardly satisfied of the nature of the approaching body, I withdrew a short distance, and waited its appearance. Soon a large canoe, nearly full of men, came to view around a bend some hundred yards distant, and it was instantly followed by another and another, all keeping time to the words of the song:

  We are going with the tide,

  Yoho! yoho!

  Free as the mountain-winds we glide,

  Yoho! yoho!

  Oh! ours is a merry life,

  Yoho! yoho!

  And full of danger, toil, and strife,

  Yoho! yoho!

  Then join your voices

  In the glad refrain,

  And let the mountains

  Echo back the strain.

  As over a score of majestic voices joined in the deep swelling chorus, the echoes were awakened for miles around. I watched them in wonder and admiration. Soon, to my surprise, they made toward the shore where I stood. As it was noon, they were probably putting in for their dinner. In a moment the boats were hauled up on the bank, and as rough and hardy a set of fellows as ever met, sprang upon the shore. A half dozen scattered along the bank, and in a moment returned bearing armfuls of sticks and fuel. A huge fire was soon blazing and roaring, an enormous quantity of meat steaming and spitting, and the men, excepting the cook, were lolling about on the grass, each one smoking and chatting, and making a scene of pleasant confusion and enjoyment.

  I now stepped forth from my concealment. Several turned their faces toward me as I passed them, but no unusual amount of astonishment was manifested. I made my way to a group of three, and seated myself beside them.

  “Whar’d you come from?” asked a short, gruff-looking man.

  “No place in particular, at present,” I replied, pleasantly.

  “One of them Nor’west chaps, I s’pose?”

  “No, sir; I am no trapper at all, but a mere adventurer in these parts.”

  “Pooty story to tell them as will believe it,” he retorted, angrily.

  “I am sure it is immaterial with me whether you believe it or not. If I were a member of the Northwest Fur Company, I should not be ashamed or afraid to own it, as I believe that is as respectable and honorable as the one in whose service you are.”

  “Boys! do you hear that?” called out a fellow beside me. “Yer’s one of them sneaking chaps—a Nor’wester, and he’s insulted us—”

  “Beg your pardon, sir,” I interrupted; “I did no such thing.”

  “Do you hear that, I say?” he called out, without regarding my words.“Here’s a sneaking Nor’wester cracking up his party afore us.”

  I was so provoked that I made no reply or noticed him. His words attracted their attention, and, anxious to see the trouble, they gathered round.

  “What’s up?” demanded a stumpy fellow, pushing his head in between the others.

  “A fight! a fight!”

  “Make a ring for ’em.”

  “Blow me, if he don’t look like one o’ them Nor’westers as sent Governor Semple out the world.6 Go in, Tom!”

  “I’ll maul him as soon as I get in fightin’ order,” said Tom—he of my first acquaintance.

  Matters were now getting serious. A collision between the redoubtable Tom and myself seemed unavoidable. His impudent bravado and insults had roused me somewhat, and I made up my mind that I should withdraw nothing I had uttered, and bear none of his insolence.

  “What’s the row?” demanded another; “I don’t understand it.”

  “Why, here’s a sneakin’ Nor’wester,” answered Tom, “blowin’ ’bout things, and I’ve made up my mind I won’t stand it;” and he continued his war-like preparations.

  “That’s right, Tom, go in and win,” added several voices.

  “Gentlemen,” said I, “all I ask is that you shall understand this matter and show fair play—”

  “We’ll do that, you!” interrupted several.

  “In the first place,” I continued, “I have said nothing against the company in whose service you are. This man, whom you call Tom, accused me of being a member of a rival company; I replied I was not, although I should not be ashamed if such were the case, as I considered the latter as respectable as yours. He avers, however, I have insulted you, and seems determined to avenge it, and I am perfectly willing to gratify him. As I told him, I am not in the service of any company, but am a mere adventurer in these parts. With this explanation I am now ready for any proceeding he may wish.”

  “Smash me to nuthin’, ram me down and shoot me, if thar ain’t Jarsey, or I’m a sinner!” exclaimed a familiar voice, and the same instant Bill Biddon stepped into the ring before me. “Give us your paw, Jarsey.”

  He grasped my hand and gave a vigorous gripe, while his scarred countenance was dissolved in one great broad smile. It is needless to say I was delighted beyond measure at this unexpected meeting.

  “Why, Bill, I little thought to meet you here.”

  “And yer’s as what thinks Bill didn’t think so himself.”

  During this passage of words between us, the others stood wondering and perplexed. The honest old trapper turned, and seeing Tom standing with his fists still clinched, shouted:

  “Ef you say another word to that gentleman thar, as is worth forty like you, there’ll be only a grease-spot left of you. Do you hear, eh?” and he shook his ponderous fist beneath his nose.

  The fellow did hear, and with a muttering, “It’s cu’rous, I allow,” donned his coat with the most perfect meekness.

  “Now,” said Biddon facing the rest, “if thar are any ’bout yer as wants to take up this fout, why jist step forward and get lammed.”

  “Is he a Nor’wester?” asked one, breaking the perfect silence.

  “What you want to know fur?”

  “’Cause if he is, he can’t pass this crowd without swallerin’ them words.”

  “What words?” demanded Biddon, fiercely.

  “What Tom said he said.”

  “Have I not explained—” I commenced.

  “Now jist hold on, Jarsey,” interrupted the trapper, turning toward me with a backward wave of his hand. “Now, hold on, you, fur ef you take back anything you’ve said, shoot me, ef I don’t lick you. Ogh!” Then turning to the others he continued, “He ain’t goin’ to take back nothin’ he’s said yerabouts; an
d ef Tom Wilson thar don’t swaller what he said, yer’s as will make him do it.”

  “I mought’ve be mistaken,” said the now thoroughly-frightened Tom.

  “That won’t do.”

  “Wal, he didn’t say so,” he jerked out.

  “That’ll answer. S’posen I say he is a Nor’-wester, how ’bout that?” demanded Biddon, glaring about on the rest.

  There was no response. All was still as death.

  “Wal, boys,” added Bill, returning to his good nature, “he ain’t a trapper; never took a skin in his born days; is a parfect gentleman, and I’ll make you ’quainted with Bill Relmond, from the States, or, as I call him, Jarsey, as fine a chap as ever tramped these parts.”

  The scene that followed was singular and amusing. All crowded around me, smiling and talking and shaking hands; and the first hand I grasped was Tom Wilson’s.

  “Hope you won’t mind what I said;” he spoke in a lower tone, “I orter been lammed for it, sure.”

  “Don’t refer to it,” I laughed; “I suppose you were only anxious for a little amusement to pass away time.”

  “That’s it ’zactly, Jarsey, you’re a trump.”

  “It’s my private opine,” called out Biddon, “that this coon is goin’inter these eatables, and ef you wants a bite, Jarsey, you’d better jine.”

  All now crowded around the meal-pot, and commenced devouring its contents with the avidity of wild animals. It consisted mainly of pemmican (dried buffalo flesh), a food much in vogue in the northwest, with several biscuits and some scalding tea. The meal finished, the men instantly produced their pipes, which they indulged in for ten or fifteen minutes. The boats were then shoved into the water, the cooking-utensils placed on board, and preparations made for starting.

  “Whar you bound to?” asked Biddon, just as they were ready.

  “The Blackfeet-Sioux,” I answered, unable to repress a smile.

  “The Blackfeet-Sioux?” he repeated.

  “Yes; do you know their grounds?”

  “I’s ’bout twenty miles down-stream—that is the village. We cac’late to camp thereabouts tonight. What, in the name of beavers, do you want with them?”