ON THE BANK OF THE MISSISSIPPI
That which reached the ears of Jack Carleton, while he stood in the
woods, silent and listening, was a peculiar swashing noise, which
continued a few seconds, followed by the same space of silence--the
intervals being as regular as the ticking of a huge pendulum.
Accompanying the sound was another, a soft, almost inaudible flow,
such as one hears when standing on the bank of a vast stream of
water.
He knew that both were caused by the sweep of the mighty Mississippi
which was near at hand. The reason for the first he could not
understand, but that of the latter was apparent. He had never
looked upon the Father of Waters, but many a time he had rested
along the Ohio and been lulled to sleep by its musical flow, even
while the camp-fires of the hostile red men twinkled on the other
shore.
Manifestly nothing could be done by remaining where he was, and, in
the same guarded manner in which he left the trail a half hour
before, he began picking his way back. Probably he ran greater
personal risk in following the beaten path, yet he was controlled by
a true hunter's instinct in every movement made.
When he reached the trail, he observed that not only had the night
descended, but the full moon was shining from an almost unclouded
sky. The trees, crowned with exuberant vegetation, cast deep
shadows, like those of the electric light, and only here and there
did the arrowy moonbeams strike the ground, redolent with the odors
of fresh earth and moldering leaves.
"Some of the warriors may be returning or groping along the trail,"
was the thought of the youth, who glided silently forward, his
senses on the alert. His misgivings, however, were much less than
when watching the two Shawanoes, for with the dense gloom of the
forest inclosing him on every hand, he felt that the shelter was not
only secure but was of instant avail.
Less than a furlong was passed, when he caught the shimmering of
water. A few steps further and he stood for the first time on the
bank of the Mississippi.
The youth felt those emotions which must come to every one when he
emerges from a vast forest at night and pauses beside one of the
grandest streams of the globe. At that day its real source was
unknown, but Jack, who was unusually well informed for one of his
years, was aware that it rose somewhere among the snowy mountains
and unexplored regions far to the northward, and that, after its
winding course of hundreds of leagues, during which it received the
volume of many rivers, enormous in themselves, it debouched into the
tropical waters of the Gulf of Mexico.
The reflection of the turbid current showed that it was flowing
swiftly. The dark line of the forest on the other shore appeared
like a solid wall of blackness, while to the north and south the
view ended in the same impenetrable gloom.
Impressed and awed by the scene, the lad saw something which at
first startled him by its resemblance to a man, standing in the
river, with his feet braced against the bottom and his head and
shoulders above the surface. The current seemed to rush against his
bared breast, from which it was cast back and aside, as though flung
off by a granite rock. Then the head bowed forward, as if the
strong man sought to bathe his brain in the cooling waters, that he
might be refreshed against the next shock.
A minute's scrutiny was enough to show Jack that the object was a
tree, which, rolling into the river at some point, perhaps hundreds
of miles above, had grown weary of its journey, and, plunging its
feet into the muddy bed of the stream, had, refused to go further.
The fierce current would lift the head several feet with a splash,
but could hold it thus only a part of a minute, when it would dip
for a brief while, to rise again and repeat the action.
The tree was what is known to-day on the Mississippi as a "sawyer,"
and which is so dreaded by the steamers and other craft navigating
the river. Many a boat striking at full speed against them, have
had their hulls pierced as if by a hundred-pound shell, and have
gone to the bottom like stone.
It was the sound made by the "sawyer" which had puzzled Jack
Carleton before he caught sight of the great river. He could not
wonder that he had failed to guess the cause of the intermittent
swash which reached him through the woods.
"And we must cross that stream," murmured Jack, with half a
shudder, as he looked out upon the prodigious volume rushing
southward like myriads of wild horses; "it seems to me no one can
swim to the other shore, nor can a raft or boat be pushed thither."
The plucky boy would not have felt so distrustful and timid had the
sun been shining overhead.
"Ish dot you, Jack?"
Young Carleton turned his head as if a war hoop had sounded in his
ear. He fairly bounded feet when he recognized his old friend at
his elbow. The good-natured German lad was grinning with delight,
as he extended his chubby hand and asked:
"How you vos?"
"Why, Otto!" gasped Jack, slapping his palm against that of his
friend and crushing it as if in a vise. "I am so glad to see you."
"So I vos," was the grinning response; "I'm always glad to shake
hands mit myself."
"But," said the other, looking furtively over each shoulder in turn,
"let's move away the trail, where we cannot be seen or heard."
The suggestion was a wise one, and acted upon without delay. The
friends entered the wood, which continued quite open, and tramped
steadily forward with the intention of finding place where they
could start a fire and converse without danger of discovery by
enemies.
The hearts of both were too full for hold their peace while stealing
forward among the trees.
"Otto," said Jack, "where is the colt?"
"I dinks he's purty near New Orleans as soon as dis time."
Young Carleton looked wonderingly toward friend and asked, "What do
you mean?"
"I don't mean vot I don't say and derefore dinks I mean vot I vos."
"So the colt went into the river? Where were you?"
"Mit de colt and he vos mit me, so we bot vos mit each other. Just
feels of me."
Jack reached out his hand and pinched the clothing of his friend in
several places. It was saturated.
"Ven I valks, de vater in my shoes squishes up to mine ears--don't
you hear 'em?"
"Why don't you pour it out?"
"I hef done so, tree time already--I done so again once more."
And, without ado, the young German threw himself forward on his
hands and head and kicked his feet with a vigor that sent the
moisture in every direction. Indeed the performance was conducted
with so much ardor that one of the shoes flow off with considerable
violence. Otto then reversed himself and assumed the upright
posture.
"Mine gracious," he exclaimed, "where didn't dot shoe of mine went?"
"It just missed my face," replied Jack, with a laugh.
"Dot vos lucky," said Otto, beginning to search for his property.
"Yes; it might have hurt me pretty bad."
"I means it vos lucky for de shoe," added Otto, who, in groping
about, stumbled at that moment upon the missing article. "Bime by
de vater soaks down mine shoes agin and I stands on head and kicks
it out."
But Jack Carleton was anxious to learn what had befallen his friend
since their voluntary separation some hours before, and so, while
they were advancing along the shore, the story was told.
Otto, as he had agreed to do, was riding at a leisurely pace, when,
without the least warning, the sharp crack of a rifle broke the
stillness of, the woods on his right, and the bullet zipped so close
to his forehead that it literally grazed the skin, leaving a faint
mark, which was visible several days afterward.
The lad was never so frightened in all his life. For a minute or so
he was absolutely speechless, during which the horse, alarmed in a
less degree than he, broke into a trot. Otto, however, quickly
regained his self-control, and fully realized his danger. He did
not glance behind him nor to the right or left. No investigation
was needed convince him of his peril. He put the horse to a dead
run, first throwing himself forward on his neck so as to offer the
least possible target to his enemies.
Only the single shot was fired, and Jack counted it strange that the
report failed to reach his ears. When the fugitive had gone a
considerable distance, he ventured to look back. He thought he saw
several Indians, but it was probably fancy, for had they observed he
was leaving them behind (as would have been the case), they surely
would have appealed to their rifles again.
Otto was in such danger from the overhanging limbs, and was so
fearful that he was running a gauntlet of Indians, that he kept his
head close to the mane of his steed and scarcely looked to see where
they were going.
The awakening came like an electric shock, when the terrified horse
made a tremendous plunge straight out into the river. The first
notice Otto received was the chilling embrace of the waters which
enveloped him to the ears. He held his rifle in his right hand,
and, in his desperate efforts to save that, was swept from the back
of the animal, which began swimming composedly down stream,
carrying saddle, blankets and other valuable articles that were
strapped to him back.
Encumbered with his heavy clothing and his gun, young Otto Relstaub
had all he could do to fight his way back to land. He escaped
shipwreck as by a hair's-breadth, from the sawyer which had
attracted the notice of Jack.
"I vos swimming as hard as nefer vos," he explained, "and had just
got in front of the tree, ven as true as I don't live, it banged
right down on top mit me and nearly knocked out my brains out. I
grabbed hold of it, when it raised up and frowed me over its head.
Den I gots mad and swims ashore."
Jack laughed, for, though he knew his friend was prone to
exaggeration, he could understand that his experience was similar,
in many respects, to what he had stated.
"After the shore reaches me," continued Otto, "I turns around free,
four times to find where I ain't. I see de colt going down stream
as fast as if two Indians was on his back sitting and paddling him
mit paddles. I called to him to come back and explained dot he
would cotch him cold if he didn't stay too long in de vater, but he
makes belief he don't hears me, and I bothers him no more."
"There will be trouble at home when your father finds out the colt
is lost," said Jack Carleton, who knew how harsh the parent of Otto
was; "it must be he returned to land further down."
"Yes; bimeby he comes ashore."
"Why didn't you recover him?"
"'Cause he swims out on de oder side and he would not wait till I
could go back mit de settlements and got mine frens to come and
build one boat. I vos gone so long dot it vos night ven I comes
back, and ven I sees you I dinks you vos an Indian or maybe some
other loafer."
Jack Carleton was about to reply to this remark when both he and his
friend caught sight the same moment of the star-like twinkle of a
point of light.
While there was nothing specially noteworthy in this, yet both were
impressed by the fact that the light was not only on the river, but
was serving as a signal to some one standing on the same shore with
them.