Black Tom and old Stebbins had a hard day’s ride of it, and they drew
the rein in a heavily-timbered grove, just as the sun was setting, with
the intention of camping there for the night.
They were well up toward the Black Hills, in a country broken with
forest, hill and prairie, and interspersed with streams of every size,
from the rivulet and foaming cañon to the broad, serenely-flowing river.
They were in a region infested with grizzly bears and the fiercest
of wild animals, and above all with the daring and treacherous
Blackfeet--those dreaded red-skins of the North-West, with whom the
hunters and trappers are compelled to wage unceasing warfare, and who
are more feared than any tribe that the white men encounter.
So these veteran prairie-men proceeded with all their caution and
kept their senses on the alert for any “sign” of their old enemies,
who came down sometimes like the sweep of the whirlwind, and who had
the unpleasant trait, after being thoroughly whipped, of not staying
whipped.
Dismounting from their ponies, old Stebbins walked back to the edge of
the timber, and carefully made a circuit around it. He was thus enabled
to gain quite an extended view of the surrounding prairie, although his
view was broken and obstructed in several places.
Tired and ravenously hungry as he was, he moved cautiously and made his
tour of observation as complete as it was possible to make it. Finally
he turned about and joined his companion, who had kindled a good
roaring camp-fire during his absence, and had turned both horses loose
to crop their supper among the luxuriant grass and budding undergrowth
of the grove.
“Well, Steb., how do you find the horizon?” asked Black Tom, who bore
that soubriquet on account of his exceedingly dark complexion.
“Cl’ar, as the sky above?”
“Nary a sign?”
“Yas--thar’s signs, but the sky is powerful cl’ar.”
This apparently contradictory answer requires a little explanation.
Old Stebbins had detected _signs_ of Indians--indeed had indubitable
evidence that they were in the neighborhood; but the signs which
indicated this fact to them indicated still further that the same
Indians, or Blackfeet, as they undoubtedly were, had no suspicion of
the presence of white men. This, therefore, disclosed a “clear sky” so
far as the trappers were directly concerned, although they were thus
made aware that there was a dark, threatening cloud low down in the
horizon, which might rise, and send forth its deadly lightning.
Looking to the westward, Stebbins saw a wooded ridge a hundred rods or
so distant, which shut off any further view in that direction; but,
about a half-mile beyond this, his keen eyes detected the smoke of a
camp-fire. It was very faintly defined against the clear blue sky,
but it was unmistakable, and indicated that a party of Indians were
encamped there.
Why, then, did Black Tom sit so unconcernedly upon the ground, after
hearing this announcement, and permit their fire to burn so vigorously,
when its ascending vapor might make known to the Blackfeet what they
did not even suspect?
Because night was closing around them, and ere the red-skins would be
likely to detect the suspicious sign, it would be concealed in the
gathering darkness--and the dense shrubbery effectually shut out the
blaze from any wanderers that might venture that way.
As there was nothing at hand immediately to engage their attention, the
trappers, after gathering a goodly quantity of fuel, reclined upon the
ground, and leisurely smoked their pipes.
“Teddy is gone a powerful while,” remarked Tom, as he looked up and saw
that it was quite dark; “he can’t be as hungry as we are.”
“He’s seed the sign--and he’s keerful--hello!”
At that instant, the report of a gun was heard, sounding nearly in the
direction of the Indian encampment. The trappers listened a moment, and
then Tom added, in the most indifferent manner possible:
“Wonder ef that chap’s got throwed.”
“Hope not,” returned his companion, “fur ef he is we’ll have to go to
bed on an empty stomach, or scratch out, and hunt up our supper for
ourselves.”
The individual who had occasioned this remark was Teddy O’Doherty, a
rattling, jovial Irishman, who had got lost from an emigrant train
several years before, and in wandering over the prairie fell into the
hands of the trappers, with whom he had consorted ever since.
He had spent enough time among the beaver-runs of the north-west, to
become quite an expert hunter; he had acquired a certain degree of
caution in his movements, but there still remained a great deal of the
rollicking, daredevil nature, which was born in him, and he had already
been engaged in several desperate scrimmages with the red-skins, and
the wonder was that he had escaped death so long.
Like a true Irishman, he dearly loved a row, and undoubtedly he
frequently “pitched into” a party of Indians, out of a hankering for
it, when prudence told him to keep a respectable distance between him
and his foes.
On this afternoon, when riding forward over the prairie, old Stebbins
indicated to him the grove where they proposed spending the night, when
the Irishman instantly demanded:
“And what is it yees are a-gwine to make yer sooper upon?”
“We’ll have to hunt up something,” replied Tom; “we’re out of ven’son,
and thar don’t seem to be any fish handy.”
“Do yees go ahead, and make yerselves aisy,” instantly added Teddy.
“I’ll make a sarcuit around the hill yonder, jist as I used to sarcle
around Bridget O’Moghlogoh’s cabin, when I went a-coortin’, to decide
whether to go down the chimney or through the pig-stye in the parlor.
Do yees rest aisy, I say, and I’ll bring the sooper to yees.”
And with this merry good-by, he struck his wearied pony into a gallop,
and speedily disappeared over the ridge to which reference has been
already made, and the trappers passed on to the grove, where we must
spend a few minutes with them, before following the fortunes of the
Irishman, who speedily dove, head foremost, into the most singular and
astounding adventure of his life.
The hunters listened some time for a return-shot or shout to the gun,
but none was heard.
“It was Teddy’s bull-dog,” said old Stebbins. “I know the sound of that
critter, for I’ve fired it often ’nough.”
“Wal, thar hain’t been any answer to it, as I guess it was p’inted at
some animile instead of red-skin.”
This seemed to be the conclusion of both, as they gave no further
thought to the absent member of their party.
It was a mild day in late summer, before the vegetation had given any
indication of the approaching cold season. The hunters had ventured
thus early into the trapping-grounds for two reasons: one was to
mislead the Blackfeet, who would be looking for their coming a month or
two later, and the other reason will become apparent hereafter.
“To-morrow we’ll strike the trapping-grounds,” said old Stebbins, in
his careless manner, as he lazily whiffed his pipe.
“It’s two months yet afore we need set our traps,” said Black Tom.
“That’ll give us plenty of time to find out all we want to,” replied
his companion.
“Yas,” added the other, somewhat significantly; “we’ll l’arn whether
thar’ll be any need of our ever settin’ them ag’in or not.”
“Not quite that,” said old Stebbins, with a laugh and shake of the
head. “I don’t b’l’eve _that_.”
“I don’t know,” continued Black Tom, who seemed in the best of spirits;
“it looked powerful like it when we had to dig out last spring.”
“It did, summat--”
“B’ars and beavers!” exclaimed Tom, suddenly coming to the upright
position, jerking his coonskin hat from his head, and dashing it upon
the ground, “don’t you remember, Steb.?”
“Remember what?” demanded his companion, not a little startled at his
manner.
“It was right hyar that we see’d _that_!”
“See’d what?”
“Old Steb., you’re a thunderin’ fool!” replied Tom, with an expression
of disgust. “I guess you’re gettin’ childish. I, s’pose, you don’t
remember that--that--what shall I call it?--that we see’d near hyar?”
“How did I furget it? How did we all forget it--Teddy, too?”
There was no doubt that Stebbins recalled the creature to which
reference had been made. Unquestionably brave as both of these men
were, their appearance showed that they were frightened. Their bronzed
and scarred faces were pale, and they looked into each other’s eyes in
silence, both revolving “terrible thoughts.”
“Right out thar,” said Stebbins, speaking in a terrified whisper, and
pointing toward the open prairie, over which they had just ridden; “how
was it that we wa’n’t on the look out fur it?”
“Dunno, when we’ve been talkin’ ’bout it all the way. It’s too bad that
it should come right hyar--jest near the very spot we’re after.”
“Mebbe it’s gone away,” added Stebbins, speaking not his belief, but
his hope.
“It will be a powerful lucky thing for us, if it has.”
As frightened children huddle close together, around the evening fire,
at the thought of the dreadful ghost, so these two stern-featured men,
whose faces had never blanched when the howls of the myriad red-skins,
who were closing around them, sounded in their ears, now instinctively
sat closer together, and looked off furtively in the darkness, as if in
mortal dread of some coming and appalling monster.
But this sudden exhibition of fear was mostly temporary in its
manifestations. As each clutched his trusty rifle, and recalled the
terrible weapon of which he was master, their confidence almost, but
not entirely, returned.
“If that thing _does_ come,” finally spoke old Stebbins, in his
deliberate but emphatic manner, “and I can get the chance, I’m going to
put a rifle-ball into it, smash and clean.”
“S’posen it doesn’t hurt it.”
“That’s onpossible.”
“Dunno,” persisted Black Tom, “from what we’ve hearn of it, they say it
don’t mind our guns.”
“Ef it can stand a shot from _my_ gun, then thar ain’t no use in
talking,” was the response of the old hunter.
“Don’t you mind what Stumpy Sam told us about it?” asked Stebbins, some
minutes afterward.
“I didn’t hear what he told _you_; you see’d him first.”
“It was two years ago, come the middle of trappin’ season, when Sam
said he and three other fellers see’d him. It warn’t a great ways from
hyar, and they war riding up one side of a ridge, when jist as they
reached the top they met the _thing_, coming up t’other side. They had
a good sight of it, and the whole four fired right into it.”
“Wal?”
“It give a sort of a snuff, turned tail toward ’em, and walked away, as
though they hadn’t done nothin’ more nor sneeze at it.”
“That’s Sam’s story,” replied Tom. “I allers b’l’eved he told a
thunderin’ lie about it, ’cause why, thar ain’t _no animile_ that could
stand four rifle-bullets right into his face.”
“That’s what I say,” assented Stebbins. “Sam and the rest of them
fellers must have been so scared, (though it wouldn’t do to tell ’em
so,) that they didn’t hit the critter at all, and that’s what makes me
kinder want to draw bead on it, and see what it’ll do afterward.”
“But I say, Steb., now s’pose you do get a crack at it, and it don’t
make no difference at all; what then?”
“Why,” fairly whispered the old hunter, in his shuddering earnestness,
“then I’ll know it’s a _spook_!”
That was a dreaded word, for it touched the tender point in a brave but
ignorant man’s character. Strong in the face of real, tangible danger,
they were like children before a peril which they could not comprehend.
Both of these hunters had sent their ounce of lead crashing through the
heart-strings of the buffalo and grizzly bear, a hundred yards distant,
and they were warranted in believing that no living creature could face
such “music” and live.
What, then, were they to think of any thing that could bid defiance
to their weapons? Was it not natural that they should look upon it as
something outside of the world in which they lived--something to be
dreaded, as the possessor in itself of a power above and beyond theirs?
They had heard strange stories of a wonderful beast seen by different
hunters and trappers, who had visited this portion of the Black Hills.
Common report had placed it somewhat further to the north-west, so that
when the year before they had caught a glimpse of it, in sight of the
very grove where they were then encamped, they had double cause for
amazement.
They had placed these marvelous stories and rumors which reached their
ears in the same category, that listeners doubtless often placed
theirs, and believed they originated from an encounter with some
mis-shapen, malformed brute, that was no more to be feared than the
ordinary creatures to be looked for in these wilds, at any time and by
any one.
But there came a time when they were most completely undeceived. The
preceding spring, when they were returning to the States, and they were
heavily laden with furs and peltries, they made their halt for the
night in the same grove. They were sitting around the fire, somewhat
late at night, as Teddy was sound asleep, when they heard a peculiar
barking sound, and both stole hastily out to the edge of the timber to
see what it meant.
As they did so, they saw IT going leisurely toward the ridge, its
head being away, and its side partly toward them. Both the hunters
identified it on the instant. It was smaller in size than the grizzly
bear, but was unlike any creature that either had ever seen. Its
appearance, so far as they could judge, allied very well with what they
had heard.
It had an immense head, short, thick legs, that moved somewhat clumsily
over the ground, and a long, bushy tail, like a squirrel, that was
curled over its back, as is frequently seen with that diminutive
creature. But the most striking feature about it was its color.
It was a clear night with a faint moon, so that the hunters could
not see clearly, but they distinguished the leopard-like spots and
zebra-like stripes, that dotted and encircled every part of its head
and legs, and on the impulse of the moment, Black Tom raised his rifle
and fired at it. He was pretty certain his bullet struck, but if it
actually did, the creature paid not the least heed, but moved away at a
leisurely gait, and speedily vanished.
Such is an account of the first encounter with the fearful nondescript,
which, once seen, could never be forgotten. Since then they had seen
nothing of it, although they heard many marvelous stories of it when
they reached the settlements on the border.
A full hour had passed since the report of Teddy’s gun, and old
Stebbins and Black Tom were conversing in their hushed way, when they
were startled by the sound of rapidly-approaching footsteps, and they
had scarcely time to look up, when Teddy dashed up to them, panting and
almost breathless.
“What’s the matter?” demanded his friends, grasping their rifles and
starting to their feet.
“The divil! the divil! I’ve seen him! I shook hands wid him, and he’s
comin’!”
“Where? where?”
“There! there!” replied the appalled Irishman, pointing and glancing
toward the prairie. “He’s comin’; he’ll be here in a minit! Blessed
Virgin, protect me!”