swallowing a few hasty mouthfuls, he hurried to the barn to see about
harnessing the horse. The harness was put on, the horse was already
standing between the shafts, Bart was watching the preparations
impatiently, standing in the doorway of the barn, when, suddenly, he
felt his shoulder touched.
He turned at once.
He stood thunderstruck!
For there, close beside him, full before him, was no other than the
actual real bodily presence of Solomon himself.
Bart was so amazed, that for some time he could not utter one single
word.
“Solomon!” he exclaimed at last.
At this, Solomon held up both hands with a warning gesture and a face
full of fearful apprehension. The look and gesture would have been in
every way appropriate to some criminal hiding from the law, and fearful
of discovery; but it was utterly out of place in one so virtuous and so
honored as the venerable Solomon. This incongruity was felt by Bart, and
only added to his amazement.
“When did you come?”
Solomon retreated behind the door, dragging Bart after him.
“Last night,” he answered.
“Last night? How?”
“I walked ebery step--I did.”
“Walked?”
“Yes, ebery step. I rund away, you know.”
“Ran away? What do you mean?”
Solomon’s eyes rolled wildly; he looked all around.
“Drefful doins out dar. Drefful place. An dar’s no noins what would hab
ebber become ob me ef you didn’t hab come yesterday. I’d been a pinin an
a whinin in Gypsum bondage, but couldn’t get away. She kept tight
hole ob me,--mine, I tell you,--an she’ll be arter me to-day, mighty
quick,--ony you keep me hid, Mas’r Bart. Don’t gib me up; don’t let her
take me.”
“She? Her?” replied Bart, to whom all this was quite unintelligible.
“What do you mean? What woman are you speaking of?”
“Black Betsy,” said Solomon, with a groan and another fearful roll of
the eyes.
“Black Betsy? Why, what has she to do with you?” asked Bart, in wonder.
“Why, she my wife, you know.”
“Your wife? Your what? Your wife?” cried Bart. “What! Black Betsy! You
married to Black Betsy! What in the world do you mean by this? When were
you married? Last week?”
“Ben mar’d ober twenty year,” said Solomon, dolefully.
This was a period of remote antiquity with which Bart had no connection,
and he could only listen in amazement to Solomon’s strange and startling
disclosure. He had never heard of this before. He had no idea that
Solomon had a wife, or that Black Betsy had a husband. But this thing
required examination, and meanwhile the horse was all ready. As for the
horse, he could only give orders to have him taken out, and then he was
able to bestow his undivided attention upon Solomon.
“Ben mar’d mor’n twenty year,” replied Solomon, dolefully. “An you
nebber see sech a strorny creetur in all your born days. Fight? Why, dat
ar woman did nuffin but fight from morn to night, all de year roun. An
drunk? Why, she nebber sober, night or day; an de life she led me! Beat?
Why, she beat me black and blue; so I rund off to sea, and a bressed
ting it was, for I ben dead an gone long ago. Den I heerd she gone off
Boston way, an I come back yer, an den went to de Cadmy. Well, I got a
mar’d darter out Loch Lomon way, an I come yer dis time to see her and
de chil’en; an dar was Betsy. She nabbed me. She beat my life out, made
me a slabe, and I done nuffin but grub about ebber since I come yar.
Beat? Why, ebery day she pound me to a jelly. Clar if she didn’t! An de
way she did lay dat ar big broomstick ober dis ole head. De sakes, ony
to tink ob it.”
From all of which Bart learned that Black Betsy was the wife of Solomon;
that her character, according to his showing, was by no means that
gentle, and affectionate, and motherly one which he had supposed it to
he; that her life was disorderly, and her conduct outrageous; that she
was in the habit of getting drunk; that Solomon had to run away from
her years ago, and become an exile and a wanderer; that it was only his
yearning after his daughter that had drawn him back; that, on meeting
his daughter, he had found himself, to his horror, once more in the
presence of his merciless wife, who had at once seized him, appropriated
him, beaten him, and reduced him to a state of abject slavery. From this
slavery he had just escaped. He now appeared before Bart in the attitude
of a fugitive slave, dreading discovery and capture, imploring Bart’s
sympathy and assistance, and eager, above all things, to fly far away,
and follow the fortunes of the boys on a new expedition; once more
to join the ranks of the B. O. W. C.; once more to officiate as Grand
Panjandrum; once more to furnish forth the banquet; once more to sail
under the orders of Captain Corbet.
Solomon’s position was a truly painful one, and excited Bart’s
profoundest sympathy; but there were other things in his position which
were not altogether painful. In the first place, he was delighted to
find that, whatever the reason might be, Solomon’s eagerness to set
forth upon the expedition was equal to his own, if not greater. In the
second place, Solomon wished to remain in hiding, and implored Bart to
conceal him and keep his secret. So Bart found himself suddenly called
on to become the benefactor and protector of a cherished friend, and
also the depositary of a tremendous secret, which he had to guard like
his heart’s blood. It was a secret which must be communicated to none,
not even to Phil and Pat, not to his father or mother, in fact, not to
any living soul. Fortunately, the servant had not seen Solomon, for that
wary old party had discovered himself to Bart so cautiously, and had
drawn him back into the barn to talk to him so carefully, that he had
not been seen.
So Bart undertook the task. He found a safe place for Solomon behind the
hay, and at regular intervals through the day he brought him food and
drink. These regular intervals occurred so frequently, that Bart spent
the greater part of that day in vibrating like a pendulum between the
house and barn. Had Solomon remained in this hiding-place for any length
of time, it is certain that Bart’s assiduous attentions and air
of mystery would have led to a discovery; but as it happened, the
concealment was not needed for any longer time.
All that day, while Bart had been thus performing the part of a faithful
friend, he had also been forwarding to the utmost the preparations
for the coming journey. These preparations consisted chiefly in
fishing-tackle of various kinds. One day was quite sufficient for this,
and so, on the day after, the whole party left. Their departure took
place at sunrise. Solomon had left before them, and had gone in the
early morning twilight to the steamer in which they were to embark,
where he had concealed himself behind a row of flour barrels. At seven
o’clock the boat started. The boys walked forward, and there, to the
utter amazement of Phil and Pat, the first object that met their eyes
was Solomon. They had only heard Bart’s account of his unsuccessful
visit, and had given him up. But now he appeared, radiant, joyous,
ecstatic; and though a large, white smouch was over his right cheek,
caused by his lying down with his face pressed against a flour barrel,
yet that white spot did not at all detract from the exultant and
triumphant expression that overspread his face. His little black beads
of eyes twinkled with delight; his legs went hopping up from the deck in
all directions; and he would certainly then and there have indulged in a
real, original, genuine, plantation break-down, had not rheumatiz gently
reminded him that there were limits to the exercise of his muscular
powers.
The route which they took to the Bay de Chaleur was apparently a
roundabout one; but in reality it was the shortest way to get to their
destination. First they went up the river St. John, and after a time
they intended to turn off into the country.
As they sailed up that beautiful river, they gazed with admiration upon
the varying scenes that opened upon them every moment. With that river
and its features Bart was quite familiar; but the others had never seen
it before, and were never tired of looking out upon the surrounding
valley. First of all they found themselves in a narrow gorge shut in by
precipices. Emerging from this, they entered a broad expanse of water
looking like an extensive lake. Traversing this, the river narrowed
again, and the sheet of water ran on before their eyes in a straight
line for many miles, with high hills, some wooded, some cultivated on
either side. Passing on, they left this behind; and now the course of
the river was a winding one, leading them on amidst varied scenery
of high hills and fertile valleys. Beyond this, again, the high hills
departed, and a broad extent of meadow land, dotted with groves
and orchards and white farm-houses, and covered over with luxuriant
vegetation, spread away on every side as far as the eye could reach.
Here the scene was not so varied as it had been at first, but it was
rich and glorious, showing to them a favored land, a land flowing with
milk and honey. This rich and fertile land continued till the steamer
stopped at Fredericton.
Here they passed the night, and hired a carriage to take them to the
River Miramichi, a place which lay on the way between Fredericton and
the Bay de Chaleur.
On the following morning they crossed the ferry, and after a short drive
they reached another river, a branch of the St. John, which rejoices in
the name of the Nashwaak. The river was small, but they thought it one
of the most beautiful that they had ever seen. High hills covered with
forests arose on every side, now coming up close and shutting in the
waters, again receding and leaving rich meadow lands, through which the
river flowed with many a winding.
At midday they stopped at a pretty little inn by the road-side, and
beguiled the time during which they had to wait for dinner by trying
their hands at trouting. Bart and Phil caught two small trout apiece;
Pat hooked one; while Solomon actually landed a salmon--an event which
created intense excitement in the whole party.
In the evening they reached another place, where they stopped for the
night. The next day they resumed their journey, and in the afternoon
arrived at the village of Chatham, which is situated on the banks of the
River Miramichi.
And now the boys made a discovery, which, strangely enough, had not
suggested itself before. It was the simple fact that they had started
altogether too soon. This was the third of August, but the Rawdons and
Tom would not meet them until the fifteenth. There was therefore nearly
a fortnight’s time on their hands. No thought of regret, however, arose
in the minds of any of them; but the fact that they had so much time
to spare, at once set them all to work to contrive some way of enjoying
themselves. Various suggestions were made. One was, that they should
visit the different, settlements in all the country around; another,
that they should go straight to Shippegan, get a schooner or a
fishing-boat, and explore the Bay de Chaleur. Both of these plans,
however, were rejected, in favor of the superior attractions of a third
plan.
This was, to plunge into the woods, wander about, fish, explore, and
rough it generally. They could take a little stock of provisions with
them, but trust chiefly to the fish which they might catch. They could
build camps, and sleep in them, and cook their fish themselves by their
own fires. Bart spoke to the landlord about the feasibility of this
plan, and that worthy approved of it highly, but told them that they
would have to take some Indian guide with them.
Had the guide been English, Irish, Scotch, or American, the boys would
probably have felt some objections; but being an Indian, the idea had
overpowering fascinations for them. There was a dash of romance about an
Indian guide that lent additional attractions to the proposed excursion.
The landlord informed them that there was an Indian settlement opposite,
and that if they went over there they might find a guide, and make a
bargain with him.
All this was settled on the evening of the day in which they had
arrived, and early on the following morning they crossed the river on a
visit to the Indian settlement, in search of a guide.
The Indian settlement was not a very extensive one. It consisted of
about a dozen wigwams. These camps are constructed of poles set together
in a conical shape, and covered over with birch bark, a substance that
with them is made to serve a wonderful number of purposes. On
entering the settlement, a number of dogs came up and smelt them very
deliberately. They saw a number of children, who, at their approach,
darted inside the nearest camp. Old squaws were busy cooking. One or two
Indians were engaged in making baskets. The whole scene had a peaceful,
primitive, and romantic character. It was clean, too; for though an
Indian camp has no architectural pretensions, yet it rarely gives forth
those overpowering odors which are encountered on approaching many of
the houses of the more civilized races.
An Indian advanced to meet the boys.
“Good day, brother,” said Bart; for in this country it is the fashion to
address an Indian by this fraternal title.
“Good day, broder,” said the Indian, in a friendly way.
He was rather old, fearfully wrinkled, and his long, coarse hair reached
to his shoulders. As Bart looked at him, it struck him that this man
would be a most desirable guide; his age made him trustworthy, while,
at the same time, his sturdy frame and sinewy limbs showed that he
possessed all the powers of endurance that might be desired.
With these thoughts Bart made known to him the object of his visit. As
he spoke, the other Indians listened with much interest, and addressed
remarks to one another, accompanied with glances at the boys, which
seemed to afford them great amusement; for smiles came over their grave
faces, and some of the younger squaws giggled, and numbers of little
heads were poked out through the doors of several wigwams, and numbers
of little sparkling black wild eyes were fixed upon the visitors to the
camp.
The Indian whom they had accosted thought for some time over Bart’s
question, and then addressed some remarks to the others. Some
conversation followed, which, of course, was not intelligible to the
boys, since it was carried on in the language of these Indians. At
length the one whom Bart was talking with informed him that he would be
willing to go himself as guide.
“Me go; me go; takum you troom wood. Me good guide, fus rate; go often.
My name Sam.”
At this Bart was overjoyed.
“You wantum shoot?” asked the Indian.
“No,” said Bart, with a feeling of intense regret, “only to fish.”
“Berry well, fishum; all same. Me show all aboutum. When you go?”
Bart said that he wanted to set out that very day, if he could.
“Me all ready,” said Sam. “Go now, or to-morrow; all same.”
Upon this Bart said that they would go back to get their things, and
return by noon, when they might all set out together.
They now went back and gathered together the things that they considered
necessary. The Indian went over with them. After further conversation
with Sam, Bart thought that it would be better to drive for about twenty
miles, and then take to the woods. That would save them a long and
useless tramp, and bring them at once to the very scene of action.
VI.
_A long Drive, and a long Walk.--The wild Woods.--An Encampment.--The
blazing Fire.--Lo! the poor Indian.--The Wolf and the Watch-dog.--
The Spring of the Wild Beast.--Solomon to the Rescue.--A Fight, and a
Flight._
AFTER a drive of about twenty miles, they came to a place where the
road turned off towards the east. They had been heading thus far in a
northerly direction, and at this turning-off place a path went from the
road in the same northerly direction in which it had gone. At this place
they got out of the wagon, and prepared to follow their guide into the
woods. Each one took the load which he had already made up for himself,
and the wagon then returned.
They did not care to burden themselves too greatly upon this expedition,
and so the load which each one took was as light as possible. Bart,
Phil, and Pat had each a basket slung from the neck, and a fishing-rod.
In each basket was a parcel of ham sandwiches, which they had procured
at the inn, with the intention of using them as a kind of relish, in
addition to their ordinary wood fare, Solomon contented himself with a
basket only. His fishing apparatus he carried in his pocket. He wasn’t
gwine to bodder his ole head, he said, with dem poles--he could cut one
in the woods when he wanted one, and throw it away when he got tired
of it. Solomon’s years seemed to be adverse to his taking part in an
expedition like this, but in spite of this he waddled along quite as
fast as any of them. One precaution he had taken which none of the rest
had considered necessary, and that was, to bring with him a check shawl,
which Bart had lent him. This he did for fear of his ever watchful
enemy, the rheumatiz.
The path was at first very well beaten; but after about a mile or so, it
gradually faded away, and the track that they followed after this was so
faint as to be scarcely discernible. The woods consisted chiefly of pine
trees, with birch and maple intermixed. None of these trees were very
large, and they did not see any of those forest giants which had met
their view in other places. In some places the underbrush was very
dense, but in other places there was scarcely any. Sometimes the ground
was quite bare and slippery with the accumulation of pine spires that
had fallen there; again, they came to immense growths of fern; and
yet again to the young growth of the forest trees, springing in wild
luxuriance, all tangled and matted together.
At length even the faint outline of a path which they had been
traversing for some time faded away, and they walked on after the guide,
without following any path at all. The land was quite level. They found
no hills, and no rocks even. Sometimes a fallen tree lay in front of
them, but it was never of sufficient size to create any obstacle. The
chief irregularities in the ground were caused by an occasional mound,
that seemed to mark the place where a tree had once been. Frequently
they came to little brooks that babbled along beneath the trees, their
borders overgrown with moss; and often they came to bogs and swamps, in
some of which they got wet enough to acquire a very good foretaste of
the experiences that now lay before them. But this was a trifle beneath
their consideration, and the ease with which they advanced filled them
all with the greatest delight.
At length they came to a stop.
It was in the midst of a pine forest. Overhead, the trees interlaced
their branches. Beneath, the ground was dry, and covered with slippery
pine spires. It was a slight declivity, and at the bottom a brook ran
along. No better place could be wished than this for a night’s rest.
“Good place dis,” said Sam; “him dry--sleepum safe--wakum all well.”
The boys were all very well pleased to find their march at an end. They
had been on the steady tramp for at least two hours, and had penetrated
far into the forest. Already the sky above was overcast, and the forest
shades were deepening.
All things betokened the approach of evening and of night.
They flung down their baskets and poles, and then flung themselves down
too, and stretched their weary limbs upon the ground. Solomon took off
his basket, and put it down in a more leisurely fashion, and took up
more time in depositing his own aged frame upon the ground.
“Well, boys,” said Bart, after a short time of rest, in which he had
stretched himself and yawned to his heart’s content, “it’s all very well
to sit down and rest, but it’s rather dark here under the trees, and
it’s going to be darker, and we can’t-ex-pect to get to sleep for at
least a couple of hours. How can we manage to exist, sitting here in the
dark? I’m sure I can’t for one; so let’s make a fire.”
The proposal was at once adopted with the utmost eagerness. They had all
felt a certain degree of cheerlessness, and did not know exactly what
the cause was; but now they saw that it was the darkness, and they
knew that any friendly firelight, however small, would make all the
difference in the world.
They now distributed themselves in different directions for the sake of
procuring fuel. Under that pine forest it was not very easy to find
any. At length, by dint of careful search and unwearying industry, they
succeeded in gathering a very respectable amount, which they deposited
in a heap near the place where they had first sat down. The wood which
they thus gathered was not very promising. What was dry was rotten
twigs, and what was sound was green wood; but they did not complain. In
order to find a fuel that was midway between these two extremes, they
went off after pine branches. These they cut from the smaller trees with
their pocket knives. Then they gathered some pine cones and bits of dry
bark, and with these succeeded in kindling a fire. Over this they put
the dry twigs, then the pine branches, and last of all the green wood.
The fire thus carefully prepared was quite a success; the flames rose up
merrily, and soon the friendly blaze illumined the gathering gloom.
Around this they now sat, and partook of their evening repast. The
repast consisted of ham sandwiches, and their drink was water from the
neighboring brook.
While they were seated round the fire they noticed that their guide drew
forth a black junk bottle, and began to take large and frequent draughts
from it. The smell showed them plainly that it was spirits, and this
discovery filled them all with uneasiness. They were afraid that their
guide would make himself drunk at the very outset of their expedition;
and if so, what could they do with a drunken Indian? Sam had probably
procured the villanous “fire-water” when he crossed with them to
Chatham, before starting, and had brought it here with the express
purpose of swallowing the whole of it that night.
The effects of the intoxicating liquor were soon only too apparent. He
began to talk with such volubility that his broken English was scarcely
intelligible. As far as they could make out, he was trying to tell
them about the best places there were for fishing and shooting, and
illustrating his remarks with incoherent anecdotes about various parties
which he had accompanied through these forests.
But as he went on he grew more and more excited, and at length gave up
broken English, and spoke to them in his own language. Of course this
made him totally unintelligible. There was now something that seemed to
them uncanny in the sight of this man, as he sat there, half out of his
senses, talking at them vociferously and volubly in his unintelligible
jargon. It put an end to all their own conversation, and to all their
pleasure. It was bad enough to be here; but to be here with a drunken
Indian, a crazy savage, was too much.
But the Indian kept on. He still applied the bottle to his lips at short
intervals, and continued his wild gabble as before. At first, he had
been speaking to them, and now he seemed to be addressing his remarks
to space; for his eyes were not any longer turned towards them, but were
rolling in all directions,--sometimes resting on the trees, sometimes on
the fire. He grew more and more excited. Holding the bottle in one hand,
he swung it around, and with the other he made energetic gestures, which
he used to give emphasis to his statements. His voice also gradually
changed. At first it was natural; and so long as he spoke English, there
had been nothing in it to excite particular attention; but when he broke
forth in his native language, it grew deeper and more guttural, and
stranger and more barbaric.
[Illustration: 0097]
The long Indian monotone and drawl became intensified by him, and was
developed into something that sounded like a strange, unearthly chant;
and this fierce sing-song chant only served to increase the wild and
savage effect of the whole.