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THE TRAPPER'S HOME.]
Bill Biddon, Trapper
OR
LIFE IN THE NORTHWEST
BY
EDWARD S. ELLIS
AUTHOR OF "NATHAN TODD," "LIFE OF PONTIAC, THE CONSPIRATOR," "LAND OF MYSTERY," ETC.
NEW YORK HURST & COMPANY
PUBLISHERS
COPYRIGHT, 1916,
BY
HURST & COMPANY
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER PAGE
I. Out Late at Night 9
II. A New Friend 32
III. The Trapper's Story 48
IV. The Trapping Grounds 72
V. Conversations and Plans 98
VI. Still in the Dark--The Canoe Again 116
VII. Alone in the Wilderness 134
VIII. Trapping Among the Indians 153
IX. The Buffalo Hunt and its Consequences 174
X. An Awful Awakening 191
XI. The Brigade and an Old Friend 210
XII. Found at Last 237
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.
The Trapper's Home FRONTISPIECE
PAGE
"What's your handle, stranger?" 41
"Gave a snort of alarm and plunged headlong away into the droves." 61
"Looking back saw a host of savage forms." 79
"In the stern, with a guiding oar, sat a young female." 93
"I could see his two coal-black eyes glittering plainly." 145
"Setting up a wild yell, the Indians scattered and plunged after them." 177
"Without losing a moment, we mounted and struck to the northward." 203
"A fight! a fight! make a ring for them." 213
"No less personage than Nat stepped ashore." 239
"Hilloa, you!" 251
BILL BIDDON, TRAPPER;
OR,
LIFE IN THE NORTHWEST.
CHAPTER I.
OUT LATE AT NIGHT.
"How is it, Nat? Any light yet?"
"Not the least sign of one, and it's my opinion it will be a long timebefore we see another."
"What! you haven't given up all hopes of reaching the camp? I hopenot, as I don't relish the idea of camping out to-night."
"Nor I either; but I'm thinking it will come to that sooner or later."
"Well, there are several hours yet, in which we must plod onward," Iadded, trudging wearily behind my companion.
Before going further, I may as well introduce my friend and myself. Mycompanion answered to the name of Nathan Todd, and was a native ofMaine. He was a tall, lank individual, with long, attentuated limbsand an awkward appearance generally. He was very meager and muscular,and when roused to a heat of passion, as quick and powerful as thepanther. His gait was an ungainly, straddling one, and he wasseemingly capable of anything but speed; but on one or two occasionssince leaving the States, he had shown a fleetness of foot which wastruly wonderful. He was a good, open-hearted fellow, and one who, whendriven to the wall, would be a dangerous enemy. Once or twice,however, he had shown the white feather, and his natural timiditywould often evince itself. As a consequence, Nat was not, perhaps, thesafest companion in the hour of danger; but, for all that, there wasno one in our party whose presence I would have preferred upon thenight in which I introduce him to notice. There was no imminent perilthreatening us, and Nat was a capital companion, who could while-awaythe hours, if he chose, with his inexhaustible store of anecdote andhumor. I knew he entertained a warm affection for me, and would bravealmost any danger rather than be suspected of his only deficiency. Asingle intimation would decide his course in a moment.
Nat wore a singular dress--half savage and half civilized. The pantsand shoes were such as are fashionable in the enlightened world; but acapacious hunting-shirt encased his body, secured around the waist bya heavy band, and much the same as are worn by the hunters and nativesof the Far West at the present day. The most striking part of hisdress, however, was the hat. This he had brought with him from Maine,and it really seemed indestructible. It was a gray color, and havinglost its band a long time before, had acquired the shape of a cone.When it rested on his head, the edge reached the shoulders behind, andthe eyebrows in front, and the pointed peak was far off above thecrown.
Nathan Todd's face was full of shrewdness and good humor. He had alarge, curved nose, broad mouth, and a fine blue eye. The chin wasretreating; but this drawback was modified partly by a long tuft ofyellow hair, the only signs of beard upon his face, except a shadowymustache. The hair was long and sandy, and harmonized well with therest of his countenance. There was ever a contraction of theeyebrows--a sort of unspoken question--so often seen in persons from"down east," which indicated a prying, curious disposition.
As for myself, my name is William Relmond, and I hail from one of themiddle States. Shortly after the announcement of the discovery of goldin California, I was seized with the lunacy that was carrying itsthousands to the Pacific coast. I was well situated in life at home,but that was not considered. I must go and fish up a fabulous fortunealso. I had one brother and several sisters, but our parents had beendead for some years, and we were residing with an uncle, the guardianof each, until maturity. A favorable opportunity offering I had madesome preparation for the legal profession; but I was never inclined toCoke, and had no intention of pursuing the practice of the law inafter life. At the age of twenty, then, without a settled purpose inlife, I determined to make a journey to the El Dorado of the NewWorld. I was not influenced solely by the love of gain, in taking thisstep, but the love of adventure urged me irresistibly on. I had heardwonderful stories of the boundless prairies, of the wandering hordesof Indians, their millions of buffaloes and horses, and the vast,billowy ocean of verdure and sunshine, and the Far West seemed theparadise of the world to me.
I was provided with an ample outfit at home, and departed amid thetears of my good uncle and affectionate sisters. I proceeded by theusual route to Independence, Missouri, where I made inquiries of thetrains which were constantly leaving the point for Oregon andCalifornia. In my wanderings, I stumbled upon Nat Todd, my presentcompanion. He had just arrived from his distant home, where he hadleft a widowed mother and a disconsolate sweetheart. But he said hewas going to return, in just two years from the day he left, with a"rousing heap" of money, and intended to buy "Squire Hunt's farm,"take Alminy down there, and live the rest of his life. His franknessand humor impressed me favorably; and, after a short conversation, wegrasped hands, and swore to remain by each other till our adventureswere terminated by death or a happy _denouement_.
We engaged places in a train which left the next day. This companynumbered nigh two hundred persons, and was compose
d of all kinds ofcharacters, except females. There were French _voyageurs_, Irishmen,and an agent of one of the western fur companies, and the majority ofthe rest were those just from the plow or the workshop. They hadsecured the services of an experienced guide, and were well equippedfor the perilous journey before them.
The overland route, at this time, was so alive with passing emigrants,that few depredations were committed by the Indians. The savagessometimes hung around companies, but as there were almost always otherwhites in sight, they rarely ventured upon any greater crime thanpilfering. Nothing worthy of note occurred upon the journey for alength of time. We experienced the usual mishaps and trials ofemigrants, but nothing more startling. We sometimes lost a part of ourbaggage and provisions in crossing the rivers, and were greatlydiscomforted by the terrific storms which often rage in these regions.Then, again, we traveled mile after mile, and hour after hour upon thedry, monotonous, glistening rolling prairie, so wearied and tired ofthe scene that we hardly exchanged a syllable for hours at a stretch.
At last, the plains of Kansas were reached. On the day in which Iintroduce my friend and myself to notice, we had descried a solitaryantelope at a great distance upon the prairie, and set out to bring itdown. We left our horses behind, hoping to reach the animal bystratagem. I approached it near enough to wound it, when it made offwith the speed of the wind. Expecting to see it give out each moment,we followed it mile after mile, until gathering darkness warned usthat night was at hand, when we halted in alarm, and were compelled toallow the antelope to escape, while we endeavored to retrace oursteps. The caravan was nowhere in sight, and we doubted not that ithad disappeared hours before. We left the train about noon, and hadbeen warned that they would not halt or wait for us, and should welose them, they would take no pains to hunt us up. But we heeded notthis, as we expected to keep them constantly in view, and have theantelope cooked for our supper.
But I have shown how widely we were mistaken. We were compelled to seethe night shut down around us, without bringing us any hope ofspending it with our friends; and at a late hour we were stillplodding aimlessly over the prairie.
"No light yet, Nat?" I asked, for the twentieth time.
"Well, I should think you had asked that question about often enough,to be suited with my answer."
"I expect to ask it a dozen times more."
"Then I'll just answer at once for all, so I won't be troubled aginwith talkin'. _No!_ there's the answer."
"I don't know but what you are right, Nat. We must have come a longdistance, utterly unconscious of it, in our eagerness to get thatplaguey antelope, and it is useless to hope to reach camp again beforemorning."
"That's my opinion, exactly. That camp, I opine, is a good dozen milesoff yet."
"Then we may have a chance of reaching it still before morning, asthis bright moon favors us."
The moon, full and clear, had arisen an hour before, and its lightillumined the prairie for a great distance around. Far away, on everyhand, we could discern the blue outline of the horizon, while theprairie seemed to roll up against it like the dark boundaries of amighty ocean. Everything was as silent and motionless as though wewere treading a region of death.
Mile after mile, we trudged on, beguiling the time by conversation.The ground was dry and hard, and the vegetation scarce and stunted.The day had been quite warm, and there was a delicious coolness aboutthe evening air that made it pleasant to walk an hour or so; but asmore than double that time had expired since we commenced, it had longbeen exceedingly wearisome to us.
"I wonder whether those fellows will go a foot out of the way to pickus up," muttered Nat, half to himself.
"I don't believe they will. They told us they wouldn't and they valuetheir time too highly to waste it for a couple who are of no accountto them, especially since we can fall in with other trains."
"I reckon they're of some account to us, being they have got both ourhorses and considerable of our traveling apparatus."
"That is too true, Nat. In fact, since we have been walking here, Ihave persuaded myself that those fellows would, just as likely as not,turn something out of the way to get rid of us."
"Somehow or other, I've felt just the same for a week."
"Then, if we value our property, we mustn't let them slip."
"No; I'll be shot, if we must!" exclaimed Nat, half angrily, strikingat once into a more rapid walk. "If they run off with my mare,I'll--I'll--" and again he strode faster over the prairie.
Long--long, we journeyed in silence. Nat's apprehensions had beenaroused, and he was willing to walk the whole night to come up withthose in whose honesty he had so little faith. Now and then he wouldmutter incoherently to himself and shoot ahead, keeping me almost on arun to maintain my place beside him. Suddenly he halted, and turnedupon me with an expression I shall never forget. I could see his eyesexpanded to twice their usual size, and his whole face aglow beneathhis monstrous hat, as he asked in a cold whisper:
"Wonder if there's Injins about to-night."
I laughed outright.
"Why, Nat, you ain't afraid, are you?"
"Who said I was afraid? I just asked a question."
"What possessed you to ask such a question?"
"Don't know; just come into my mind. Do you s'pose there are anyInjins roving round the country to-night?"
"I am sure I cannot tell, but I think it extremely probable. Are youfearful that there are some upon our trail?"
"There might be! No; I was thinking if we should come across any ofthem, they might be able to tell us whether any of them chaps thinkwe're lost, and have run off with my mare."
"Should we meet a lot of those savages, no doubt they would tell ussomething else besides that."
"I expect so," and he wheeled around and strode ahead again. It wasnow getting near midnight, and I was completely worn out. It was outof the question to reach the camp that night, and we might as wellsubmit to our fate at once, so I spoke rather decidedly.
"I'm tired of this."
Nat turned and looked at me a second, and then answered:
"So am I. We've to camp out to-night, and there's no use in waitingtill morning afore we do it. Ain't it lucky you brought your blanketwith you? It would go hard to do without that to-night."
"I brought it with me by merest chance, not thinking I should need it.It was indeed fortunate; and now let us prepare to use it."
There was not much choice on the hard but warm earth. My blanket wasample and sufficient for us both. After some search, a smalldepression was selected, and in this I spread my heavy blanket. Wethen stretched ourselves upon it, pulled the ends over us, being sureto inclose our rifles in its folds, and resigned ourselves to sleep.In that lone hour, I forgot not that there was one arm upon which Icould rely, and One only who could watch over me until morning, and tothat protection I appealed.
Ere the sun was fairly above the horizon, we were up and upon our way.Knowing the company would not be in motion for several hours, we hopedto reach them before they breakfasted, and have a laugh over ournight's adventure. Nat led the way, and took long, rapid strides overthe ground, seemingly oblivious of the existence of any one else. Ikept beside him, now and then venturing a remark, but receiving noanswer or intimation that I was heard.
Suddenly, my friend came to a dead halt, dropped the butt of his rifleto the earth with a ringing clamp, and wheeled upon me with one ofthose indescribable looks. I had seen these before, so that I knewsomething unusual was agitating him.
"What's the trouble now?"
"It's no use; we'll never see that company agin."
"What makes you think thus?"
"I know so. I had a dream last night that my mare was gone for everand ever, and I know she is. Don't you remember that fur agent told usthey'd change the direction they's traveling some time yesterday? Theyhadn't done it when we left them, and they done it as soon as we gotout of sight, I warrant."
I now remembered hearing our guide remark, as also did the fur a
gentwith us, that the trail we were following made an abrupt bend somemiles ahead. We were traveling northeast at that time, and thecontemplated change was nearly due southwest. This fact had entirelyescaped our minds, until it now occurred to Nat, and we had,consequently, been proceeding in a wrong direction. By referring tothe sun, we found we had gone far too much to the east in order tointercept the train, which was now in all probability many leagues tothe southwest.
This was a discovery which was overwhelming. We had then beenjourneying in a direction which had brought us not a foot nearer thecompany than if we had remained motionless; and it was certain thatthe party was irrecoverably lost.
"This is a pleasant discovery, Nat."
"Very."
"I see no hope for your mare. She is probably a good day's journeydistant, and we do not know what direction to take to reach her."
"That's it," replied Nat, ill-humoredly; "if I knowed sure what way totramp to find her, I wouldn't stop till I'd laid my hands on her for acertainty; but this trudging along, and just as like as not going awayfrom her all the time, isn't the thing."
"I see no course left then, but to proceed south, in the hope offalling in with some emigrant train, or in striking the Oregon trail,north, and getting into California ahead of them."
"The Oregon trail will have to be our destination, then. If thesefellows find they've got the start of us, they won't give us a chanceto come up again, and we might as well try to catch the whirlwind asto follow them. No; we must try the ready for them when they come.How far is the trail off?"
"It can't be more than a day's journey; the trail follows the Plattethrough Nebraska, and I'm pretty sure we can reach it by nightfall, ifwe proceed pretty steadily and rapidly."
The day was clear and pleasant, and the sky devoid of the least signsof threatening storm. There were two or three white clouds stragglingoff in the western horizon, but the sky was of a deep clear blue. Wewere now proceeding in a northward direction, intending to strike thePlatte at the nearest point. South, east, and west the small wavinghills of the prairie stretched, unrelieved by the slightest object,except in the west the far-off outline of some mountain-peak was justvisible, resembling a slight pointed cloud against the blue sky. Thisdisappeared at noon, and we were again like wanderers upon theillimitable sea. A short time after, Nat's keen vision detected anumber of black, moving specks far to the westward.
"An emigrant train, perhaps," I suggested.
"They're Pawnee Injins as sure as the world, and we'd better give thema wide berth."
"Pawnee Indians! How do you know that? You never have been in thissection before?"
"That's true, but you don't s'pose I started out here without firstlarning something 'bout the country and folks, do you? If you do,you're mighty mistaken. Just let me know in what part of the countrywe are, and I'll let you know what sights you will see, that is, if weare going to see any at all. But let's keep to the east; I don't wantto keep them Pawnees in sight."
"The Pawnee Indians are reported friendly to the whites."
"Exactly; but have they been reported honest? If they should come uponus and take a fancy to our rifles, what is there to prevent them fromtaking them? And," added Nat, with a shrewd shake of his head. "I'venot faith enough in their good intentions to want 'em in sight at thisparticular time."
There was a great deal of reason in his remarks, and it was notunwillingly that I turned my face more to the northeast, and soon sawthem disappear from view.
Some time toward the middle of the afternoon we descried a solitarybuffalo ahead. He had apparently left his friends and wandered aboutas though entirely lost. After considerable difficulty we approachednigh enough to bring him down. He was quite poor, and his flesh wasstrong and Oregon trail, and get into California first, and be tough;but we were glad enough to get it, such as it was. He was thrown onhis face, with his knees bent under him, a keen knife run along thespine with just sufficient force to penetrate the skin, which was thenpulled down each side. This done, we cut the choice portions out. Natreserved the buffalo-skin for his blanket, and the rest was thrownaway. We made a hearty meal, and about the middle of the afternoonagain set forward, hoping to accomplish quite a distance erenightfall.
Just at dark we reached a stream of considerable size, which Iafterward learned was the Republican Fork of Nebraska. The point atwhich we struck it, was about where it leaves the territory of Kansasand enters Nebraska. Although no considerable stream, we concluded notto cross it before morning, and we made arrangements for passing thenight upon its banks. There was considerable timber at differentpoints, and a goodly quantity of driftwood lay scattered along itsbanks. As the river was quite low, we gathered several armfuls, andhad a fire soon started. We had brought some meat of the slain buffalowith us, but concluded not to cook supper, as our appetites weresatiated.
Seated round our fire, half-hidden in a depression in the riverbottom, with the dark, glistening stream flowing silently by, andsmoking our pipes, we naturally fell into an easy conversation.
"We can't be far from the 'trail,' can we?" asked Nat.
"Farther than I suspected," I answered. "The Republican Fork, which Iam convinced is the stream out there, is over fifty miles from thePlatte, which, with several other streams must be crossed before thetrail is reached."
"Fudge! I don't believe I can head off them fellows after all, and myold mare and overcoat will go to thunder."
"They will go _somewhere_ where you will never see them again."
"I _know_ I'm bound to lose 'em, and I shan't think any more aboutthem."
"That's the best plan, Nat. They are no great loss."
"I sh'd like to know whether that greaser or fur agent took themthough," interrupted my friend, earnestly.
After this he fell into a fit of musing, and we remained silent forsome time. When the fire had burnt low, I arose and replenished it.Nat looked anxiously at the roaring blaze, carrying ashes and cindershigh in the air, and reflecting far out upon the dark river, and heremarked:
"Wonder if some Injins won't see that."
"I guess not. We are so low down the bank that I think it can bevisible for no considerable distance upon the prairie, and the bend inthe river fortunately saves us from view up or down the stream. Theonly point from which it would attract attention is directly acrossfrom us."
"And it looks suspicious enough there," repeated Nat, in a whisper,removing his pipe and gazing across the river.
It did indeed look gloomy, forbidding, and threatening. Our fire wasnearly on the level with the water, which rolled darkly and noisily atour very feet; and when its crackling blaze arose higher than usual,the low face of the opposite shore was struck by the light. At suchtimes I could not help reflecting what favorable chances were affordedany foe who might be lurking opposite. I involuntarily shrunk from thefire, and felt relieved when the shore blended with the darkness.
It began to grow quite late, the fire had smoldered low, when Nat,removing his cap, turned upon me with:
"What do you think of our journey to California?"
I was at a loss to comprehend his meaning, and looked at him for anexplanation.
"I mean to ask whether you feel in such a hurry to get to mines as youdid when we were in Independence?"
Now, to confess the truth, the experience of the last week or two, andespecially of the last two days, had done much toward dampening theardor which I once thought could never leave me; and I believe, had Ipossessed moral courage enough, I should have seized the firstopportunity to return to the comforts of a home, where I possessedenough to satisfy any sensible person's ambition. Still I hesitated tocommit myself.
"I cannot say that I am; but what induced you to----"
"I'm sick of this business," interrupted Nat, lengthening his legswith a spiteful jerk, and looking disgustedly into the fire.
"What has come over you?" I asked, half-amused at his manner.
"Well there's that mare----"
"But you promised
not to think of her."
"How can I help it, I should like to know? She's gone sure, andthere's that overcoat, that cost me four dollars and a half in Lubec;and Alminy made a big pocket in it on purpose for me to fill full ofgold chunks; and I should like to know how I am going to do it, when aGreaser has got it."
"I am afraid that that would not be the only difficulty you would belikely to experience, Nat, in getting it filled."
"And my jack-knife was in the coat-pocket, I declare!" exclaimed he,suddenly starting up and pinching alternately one pocket and thenanother. "Yes, sir, that's gone, too; that's worse than all the rest,"he added, despairingly, falling upon his elbow, and gazingabstractedly into the fire.
"That's a trifling loss, surely, as you have your hunting-knife."
"I've a good notion to get up and go back now," he added, not heedingmy remark. "I'm sick of this business. It's bad enough to lose themare, but when the knife is gone I can't stand it."
I knew this was but a momentary despondency with my friend, and forthe sake of whiling away the time before sleep, I was inclined tohumor it.
"But what will you do for that gold that you was going to buy DeaconHunt's farm with for your Alminy?"
"Let her go without it," he answered, gruffly, without removing hisgaze from the fire. "She can get along without it. I believe she onlycoaxed me to go off to Californy to get me out of the way, so thatmean Bill Hawkins might take my place. If he does come any such game,he'll catch it when I get back."
I laughed deeply, but silently, as I witnessed his appearance at theseremarks. It was so earnest and feeling, that it was impossible toresist its ludicrousness.
"Nat," said I, after a moment's thought, in which my mind had taken analtogether different channel, "I am free to own that I have littlefaith in our success in California. I left home in a flush ofexcitement, without considering the consequences of such a rash step,and they are now beginning to present themselves. I propose that weseek our fortune elsewhere. The fact that gold exists in California isnow known all over the world, and we know there is not the remotestcorner of her territory which is not swarming with hundreds who leaveno means untried to amass their fortunes. I have no desire to wrangleand grope with them, and would much rather seek wealth elsewhere."
"But where else?"
"If gold exists in one spot on the Pacific coast, it is right tosuppose it exists in many others, and what is to prevent our findingit?"
"Have you thought of any place?"
"It seems to me that in Oregon, among the spurs of the RockyMountains, there must be fabulous quantities of the precious metal."
"But why hasn't it been found?"
"Oregon is thinly settled, and no suspicion has led them to search forit."
"Well, let us dream upon it."
A few more fagots were forthwith heaped upon the fire, and then we laydown for the night's rest.
My companion had lain but a minute, when he suddenly sprang to hisfeet, and exclaimed:
"Hurrah for Oregon!"
"Be careful," I admonished; "your indiscretion may be fatal. That wallof darkness across the river looks gloomy and threatening enough tome."
"It does--hello! I'm shot--no, I ain't, neither."
That instant the report of a rifle burst from the other bank, and thebullet whizzed within an inch of my companion's face.
"Heavens! are we attacked!" I ejaculated, starting back from the fire.
"I believe so," replied Nat, cowering behind me.
We listened silently and fearfully, but heard no more. The firesmoldered to embers, the river grew darker, and the night, moonlessand cold, settled upon us. But no sleep visited my eyelids that night.Till the gray dawn of morning I listened, but heard no more.
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