EXCURSION ON THE PRAIRIE.—THE PARTY FALL IN WITH A VETERAN HUNTER.
We must now return to Reginald and his trusty follower; Baptiste, whom
we left at St. Louis, where they were busily employed in disposing of
Colonel Brandon’s share of the peltries brought in by the trapping
party, which he had partly furnished the preceding year. They did not
find much difficulty in effecting an advantageous sale to two of the
other partners in the expedition,—active, enterprising men, who, from
their connection with the Mackinaw Fur Company, were sure of reselling
at considerable profit.
As soon as these affairs were settled, Reginald, who had been joined
by Perrot, Bearskin, and the remaining crew of the canoe, resolved
to defer no longer his proposed journey into the Osage country. He
left all the arrangements to Baptiste and Bearskin, under whose
superintendence the preparations advanced so rapidly, that at the end
of a week they were satisfactorily completed.
It had been determined to leave the canoe at St. Louis, and to perform
the journey by land; for this purpose a strong saddle–horse was
purchased for each of the party, together with six pack–horses, and as
many mules, for the transfer of the ammunition, baggage, and presents
for their Indian allies. Four additional Canadian “coureurs des bois”
were engaged to take charge of the packs; so that, when they started
for the Western Prairies, the party mustered twelve in number, whose
rank and designation were as follow:—
Reginald Brandon; Baptiste, his lieutenant; Bearskin, who, in the
absence of the two former, was to take the command; M. Perrot, Mike
Smith, with three other border–hunters, and the four Canadians,
completed the party.
Baptiste had taken care to place among the packages an abundance of
mirrors, cutlery, and other articles most highly prized by the savages.
He had also selected the horses with the greatest care, and two spare
ones were taken, in case of accidents by the way. When all was ready,
even the taciturn Bearskin admitted that he had never seen a party so
well fitted out, in every respect, for an Indian expedition.
It was a lovely morning when they left St. Louis, and entered upon
the broad track which led through the deep Missourian forest, with
occasional openings of prairie towards a trading–post lately opened
on the Osage, a river which runs from S. W. to N. E. and falls into
the Missouri. Of all the party, none were in such exuberant spirits
as Perrot, who, mounted on an active, spirited, little Mestang
horse[22], capering beside the bulky figure of Mike Smith, addressed
to him various pleasantries in broken English, which the other, if he
understood them, did not deign to notice.
It was now near the close of May, and both the prairie and the woodland
scenery were clad in the beautiful and varied colours of early summer;
the grassy road along which they wound their easy way was soft and
elastic to the horses’ hoofs; and as they travelled farther from the
settlements scattered near St. Louis, the frequent tracks of deer
which they observed tempted Reginald to halt his party, and encamp for
the night, while he and Baptiste sallied forth to provide for them a
venison supper.
After a short hunting ramble they returned, bearing with them the
saddle of a fine buck. A huge fire was lighted; the camp–kettles and
other cooking utensils were in immediate request, and the travellers
sat down to enjoy their first supper in the Missourian wilderness.
Monsieur Perrot was now quite in his element, and became at once an
universal favourite, for never had any of the party tasted coffee or
flour–cakes so good, or venison steaks of so delicate a flavour. His
good–humour was as inexhaustible as his inventive culinary talent; and
they were almost disposed to believe in his boasting assurance, that so
long as there was a buffalo–hide or an old mocassin left among them,
they should never want a good meal.
Having supped and smoked a comfortable pipe, they proceeded to bivouac
for the night. By the advice of Baptiste, Reginald had determined to
accustom his party, from the first, to those precautionary habits which
might soon become so essential to their safety; a regular rotation of
sentry duty was established, the horses were carefully secured, and
every man lay down with his knife in his belt, and his loaded rifle
at his side: the packs were all carefully piled, so as to form a low
breastwork, from behind which they might fire in case of sudden attack;
and when these dispositions were completed, those who were not on the
watch wrapped themselves in their blankets or buffalo skins, and, with
their feet towards the fire, slept as comfortably as on a bed of down.
For two days they continued their march in a north–west direction,
meeting with no incident worthy of record; the hunters found abundance
of game of every description, and Monsieur Perrot’s skill was daily
exercised upon prairie–hens, turkeys, and deer. On the third day,
as they were wending their way leisurely down a wooded valley, the
sharp crack of a rifle was heard at no great distance. Reginald,
desiring to ascertain whether Indians or White men were hunting in
the neighbourhood, halted his party, and went forward, accompanied
by Baptiste, to endeavour, unperceived, to approach the person whose
shot they had heard. A smooth grassy glade facilitated their project,
and a slight column of smoke curling up from an adjoining thicket
served to guide them towards the spot. Ere they had advanced far, the
parting of the brushwood showed them that the object of their search
was approaching the place where they stood, and they had barely time to
conceal themselves in a bush of sumach, when the unknown hunter emerged
from the thicket, dragging after him a fine deer. He was a powerful man
of middling height, not very unlike Baptiste in dress and appearance,
but even more embrowned and weather–beaten than the trusty guide; he
seemed to be about fifty years of age, and the hair on his temples was
scant and grey; his countenance was strikingly expressive of boldness
and resolution, and his eye seemed as clear and bright as that of a
man in the early prime of life. Leaning his rifle against an adjoining
tree, he proceeded to handle and feel his quarry, to ascertain the
proportions of fat and meat; the examination seemed not unsatisfactory,
for when it was concluded he wiped the perspiration from his brow, and
with a complacent smile muttered half aloud, “Ah, ‘t ain’t every day
as a man can find a saddle like that in old Kentuck now—what with
their dogs, and girdlins, and clearins, and hog–feedings, and the
other devilments of the settlements, the deer’s all driven out of
the country, or if it ain’t driven out, they run all the fat off, so
that it’s only fit to feed one of your tradin’ town–bred fellows, who
wouldn’t know a prime buck from a Lancaster sheep!”
After this brief soliloquy, the veteran sportsman tucked up the sleeve
of his hunting–shirt, and proceeded to skin and cut up his quarry,
with a skill and despatch that showed him to be a perfect master of
his craft. Reginald and Baptiste had remained silent observers of his
proceedings, but the former inferred from the pleased twinkle of the
guide’s grey eyes, and the comic working of the muscles of his mouth,
that the solitary hunter was no stranger to him: touching Baptiste
lightly, he whispered, “I see that we have come across an acquaintance
of yours in this remote place.”
“That we have Master Reginald,” said the guide; “and you’d have known
him too, if you’d spent some of the years in Kentuck as you passed at
those colleges in the old country; but we’ll just step out and hail
him, for though he ain’t particular fond of company, he’s not the man
to turn his back on a friend to whom he has once given his hand.”
So saying he rose from his hiding–place, and coming out on the open
glade, before Reginald could inquire the stranger’s name, the guide
said aloud, “A prime buck, colonel; I see your hand’s as steady as
ever!”
At the first sound of a voice addressing him in his own language, a
shade of displeasure came across the hunter’s countenance; but as he
recognised the speaker it disappeared instantly, and he replied, “Ha!
Baptiste, my old friend, is that you? What chase are you on here?”
So saying, he grasped the horney hand of the guide with a heartiness
which proved that the latter was really welcome.
“Why, colonel, I’m out on a kind o’ mixed hunt this turn with this
young gentleman, whose father, Colonel Brandon, you’ve known many a
day. Master Reginald, I’m sure you’ll be glad to be acquainted with
Colonel Boone, howbeit you little expected to find him in this part of
the airth.”
At the mention of the stranger’s name, Reginald’s hand was raised
unconsciously to his cap, which he doffed respectfully as he said, “I
am indeed glad to meet the celebrated Daniel Boone, whose name is as
familiar to every western hunter as that of Washington or Franklin in
our cities.”
“My young friend,” said the colonel, laughing good–humouredly, “I am
heartily glad to see your father’s son, but you must not bring the ways
of the city into the woods, by flattering a rough old bear–hunter with
fine words.”
“Nay,” said Reginald, “there is no flattery, for Baptiste here has
spoken of you to me a hundred times, and has told me as often, that a
better hunter or a better man does not breathe. You seem to have known
him some time, and must therefore be able to judge whether he is of a
flattering sort or not.”
“Why, it wasn’t much his trade, I allow,” replied the colonel, “in old
times, when he and I hunted bear for three weeks together in the big
laurel thicket at Kentucky Forks. I believe, Baptiste, that axe at your
belt is the very one with which you killed the old she, who wasn’t
pleased because we shot down two of her cubs; she hadn’t manners enough
to give us time to load again: and when you split her skull handsomely,
she was playing a mighty unpleasant game with the stock of my rifle.
Ah, that was a reasonable quiet country in those days,” continued the
colonel: “we had no trouble, but a lively bit of a skrimmage, now and
then, with the Indians, until the Browns, and Frasers, and Micklehams,
and heaven knows how many more, came to settle in it; and what with
their infernal ploughs, and fences, and mills, the huntin’ was clean
spoilt. I stayed as long as I could, for I’d a kind o’ likin’ to it;
but at last I couldn’t go ten mile any way without comin’ to some
clearin’ or log–hut; so says I to myself, ‘colonel, the sooner you
clear out o’ this, the better you’ll be pleased.’”
“Well, colonel,” said the guide, “I heard you had moved away from the
Forks, and had gone further down west, but they never told me you had
crossed the big river.”
“I only came here last fall,” replied the colonel; “for I found, in
Kentucky, that as fast as I moved, the settlers and squatters followed;
so I thought I’d dodge ‘em once for all, and make for a country where
the deer and I could live comfortably together.”
“As we have thus accidentally fallen in with you,” said Reginald, “I
hope you will take a hunter’s meal with us before we part; our men and
baggage are not a mile from this spot, and Colonel Boone’s company will
be a pleasure to us all.”
The invitation was accepted as frankly as it was given.
Baptiste shouldered the colonel’s venison, and in a short time the
three rejoined Reginald’s party. Daniel Boone’s name alone was
sufficient in the west to ensure him a hearty welcome. Perrot’s
talents were put into immediate requisition, and ere long the game and
poultry of the prairie were roasting before a capital fire, while the
indefatigable Frenchman prepared the additional and unusual luxuries of
hot maize–cakes and coffee.
During the repast, Reginald learnt from Colonel Boone that various
parties of Indians had been lately hunting in the neighbourhood. He
described most of them as friendly, and willing to trade in meat or
skins for powder and lead; he believed them to belong to the Konsas,
a tribe once powerful, and resident on the river called by that name,
falling into the Missouri, about a hundred miles to the north–west of
the place where our party were now seated; but the tribe had been of
late reduced by the ravages of the small–pox, and by the incursions of
the Pawnees, a nation more numerous and warlike, whose villages were
situated a hundred miles higher up the same river.[23]
The colonel described the neighbourhood as abounding in elk, deer,
bear, and turkeys: but he said that the beaver and the buffalo were
already scarce, the great demand for their skins having caused them
to be hunted quite out of the region bordering on the settlements.
After spending a couple of hours agreeably with our party, the
veteran sportsman shouldered his trusty rifle, and wishing our hero
a successful hunt and shaking his old comrade Baptiste cordially by
the hand, walked off leisurely in a northerly direction, towards his
present abode; which was not, he said, so far distant but that he
should easily reach it before sundown.
As the last glimpse of his retiring figure was lost in the shades of
the forest, the guide uttered one of those grunts which he sometimes
unconsciously indulged. Reginald knew that on these occasions there was
something on his mind: and guessing that it referred to their departed
guest, he said,—
“Well, Baptiste, I am really glad to have seen Daniel Boone; and I can
truly say I am not disappointed; he seems to be just the sort of man
that I expected to see.”
“He is a sort,” said the guide, “that we don’t see every day, Master
Reginald. Perhaps he ain’t much of a talker; and he don’t use to
quarrel unless there’s a reason for ‘t; but if he’s once aggravated, or
if his friend’s in a scrape, he’s rather apt to be dangerous.”
“I doubt it not,” said Reginald; “there is a quiet look of resolution
about him; and, in a difficulty, I would rather have one such man with
me than two or three of your violent, noisy brawlers.”
As he said this his eye inadvertently rested upon the huge figure of
Mike Smith, who was seated at a little distance, lazily smoking his
pipe, and leaning against a log of fallen timber. The guide observed
the direction of Reginald’s eye, and guessed what was passing in his
mind. A grave smile stole for a moment over his features; but he made
no reply, and in a few minutes, the marching orders being issued, the
party resumed their journey.
On the following day they reached a point where the track branched
off in two directions; the broader, and more beaten, to the N. W.;
the other towards the S. W. The guide informed them that the former
led along by the few scattered settlements that were already made on
the southern side of the Missouri, towards the ferry and trading–post
near the mouth of the Konsas river; while the smaller, and less beaten
track, led towards the branch of Osage river, on which the united party
of Delawares and Osages, whom they sought, were encamped.
Having followed this track for fifty miles, they came to a spot well
known among hunters by the name of the Elk Flats, where the branch of
the Osage, called Grand River, is fordable. Here they crossed without
accident or difficulty, except that M. Perrot’s horse missed his
footing, and slipped into a deeper part of the stream. The horse swam
lustily, and soon reached the opposite bank; but the Frenchman had cast
himself off, and now grasped with both hands an old limb of a tree that
was imbedded near the middle of the river; he could just touch the
ground with his feet; but, being a bad swimmer, he was afraid to let go
his hold, for fear of being again swept away by the current, while his
rueful countenance, and his cries for assistance, provoked the mirth of
all the party.
After enjoying his valet’s alarm for a few minutes, Reginald, who had
already crossed, entered the river again with Nekimi, and approaching
Perrot, desired him to grasp the mane firmly in his hand, and leave the
rest to the animal’s sagacity, which instruction being obeyed, he was
safely brought ashore, and in a short time was laughing louder than the
rest at his own fright, and at the ludicrous predicament from which he
had been extricated.
The packages were all conveyed across without accident, and the party
found themselves encamped in what was then considered a part of the
Osage country. Here they were obliged to use greater vigilance in the
protection of their camp and of their horses during the night, as they
had not yet smoked the pipe with the chiefs, and were liable to an
attack from a party of warriors or horse–stealers.
The night passed, however, without any disturbance; and on the
following day at noon they reached a spot which Baptiste recognised
as a former camping–place of the Osages, and which he knew to be not
distant from their present village. Here his attention was suddenly
drawn to an adjoining maple, on the bark of which sundry marks were
rudely cut, and in a fork of the tree were three arrows, and as many
separate bunches of horsehair. He examined all these carefully, and
replaced them exactly as he found them; after which he informed
Reginald that three braves of the Osages had gone forward during the
past night on a war–excursion towards the Konsas, and all these marks
were left to inform their followers of their purpose, and the exact
path which they intended to pursue. He also advised Reginald to halt
his party here, while he went on himself with one of the men to the
village, it being contrary to the customs of Indian etiquette for a
great man to come among them unannounced.
Reginald adopted his counsel, and the sturdy guide, accompanied by one
of the coureurs des bois, set out upon his mission, the result of which
will appear in the following chapter.