ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS.
“Where’s your friend?”
There was apprehension in the question of the trapper, or he would not
have called Nat, as he had never called him before. The question was
asked, too, the instant I appeared.
“I cannot tell,” I answered, seating myself gloomily.
“Whar’d you leave him?”
“I cannot answer that either. He went with me to watch the river, as
you remember. Espying that canoe which you saw yesterday, he concealed
himself a few yards distant, in order to obtain a better view of it.
Since then I have seen nothing of him.”
“Was it he who shot?”
“It sounded like his gun, although I am not positive that it really
was.”
“I heerd it, an’ took it for him; and, shoot me, if I didn’t know he’d
get into some scrape.”
“I fear he has, and the last one, too.”
“My thoughts ’zactly. Luckily you did not, too.”
“I came nearer than I wish to again, Biddon. I can tell you, that I am
willing to leave this place as soon as you wish; I’ve seen enough to
satisfy me.”
“Shouldn’t wonder; I did long ago.”
“Let us leave to-morrow. Are you willing?”
“I’ll go to-night if you want to.”
“No; there is no need of that. It will be best to wait until
daylight.”
“I don’t know; that’s the only time we’ve been interfered with.”
“Besides,” I added. “I have faint hopes that Nat may return.”
“Waugh! you’ll never see him again, and ef we’re ’bout yer another
day, we’ll never see each other again. No use lookin’ fur him, shoot
me ef thar is.”
“I do not think he has been slain, only captured by some lurking
enemy, from whom he may escape.”
“No, _sir_; I tell you he’s gone, and I reckon as how we’d better be
gone too.”
“Perhaps you are right, Biddon, although I shall be loth to leave the
vicinity when I am not satisfied of his fate.”
“I’m satisfied, an’ you oughter be. Leastways, _I’m_ goin’ to-morrow,
an’ you kin stay and play with these Blackfeet as long as you like.
I’ve been up to see the horses, and fixed things so as to start as
soon as daylight. Any ’jections?”
“None at all.”
“Then ’tis settled, and let’s snooze.”
But it was by no means settled. As I lay that night ruminating upon
the strange scenes through which I had so recently passed, the pledge
that I had made with Nat came back to me. I had promised to remain by
him as long as there was hope; and to desert him now, would be a
violation of that vow, and a base and unworthy act upon my part. For
us both to leave him would probably seal his fate, if alive. It was by
no means certain that if lost, he was irrecoverably gone, and I
resolved that if the trapper should depart on the morrow I would
remain.
In making this resolution, perhaps it was not the desire alone to
benefit my companion that prompted it, although I aver that that alone
would have been sufficient. Unconsciously, almost, I found my thoughts
wandering from Nat to the fair being who had been the cause of all
this trouble. At most, I could only speculate and conjecture with
regard to her, and the same speculations and conjectures I had made
before. Undoubtedly she was a captive among a tribe of Indians, over
whom she wielded a great influence; and that she was the same maid
referred to by Biddon, seemed certain to me. I had mentioned this
thought to him, in the hope of persuading him to remain. He started
somewhat at the unsuspected suggestion, and, after a few moments’
thought, admitted the probability of such being the case. To my
surprise I found I had completely defeated my own plans.
“I kinder thought then, that little thing war suthin’ more nor human,
an’ ef it’s her, you see, I’m purty sure now. No use talkin’, I shan’t
stay here longer than time ’nough to start. It might be that gal, and
then agin it moughn’t. Shoot me ef it moughn’t.”
I said no more, for I saw it would be useless. When he had once
determined upon a matter there was no changing him. He was satisfied
that “spirits invisible” had encompassed him, and there was but one
way of escaping them.
He was now reposing quietly beside me, utterly oblivious to external
things; and as the night was far advanced, I sank upon my knees, and
besought the great Disposer of events to guide me aright in the
undertaking which I was about to commence, and to watch over my
unfortunate companion, now doubtless in captivity; to protect the
kind-hearted trapper, and to soon clear away the mystery which had
enveloped us like a cloud. Then I lay down and slept.
I awoke, hearing a slight rustling noise beside me, and, upon looking
around, caught a glimpse of Biddon as he departed. It was very early,
and he doubtless was after the horses, in order to leave at once the
place which had such terrors for him. In the course of a half hour he
returned.
“The horses are waitin’,” said he.
I arose and passed out. The three animals stood outside, a short
distance away, each saddled and prepared for travel.
“Come, work lively, and fetch them skins out,” said Biddon, commencing
himself. I made no reply, but assisted him until everything was in
readiness, for starting.
“Jump on, and shoot me ef we won’t soon be clar of this outlandish
place.”
“Biddon, I am not going with you,” I said, mildly.
“_What?_” he asked, looking wonderingly at one, as if doubting my
senses.
“I intend to remain here.”
“Ogh! jump on, an’ shut up yer meat-trap; it’s time we started.”
“I said I was going to remain here.”
“Do you mean it, Jarsey?” he queried, bending such a fierce look upon
me.
“Most certainly I do.”
“Then, all Bill Biddon’s got to say is, you’re a fool.”
I colored slightly at this, but made no reply.
“What yer going to stay fur? Get shot and lose yer ha’r, I s’pose,
jist to please the reds.”
“I am sorry, friend Biddon, that you feel thus. When Nathan Todd and I
left the States for this country, we pledged eternal friendship to
each other, and I am sure I should never feel at ease if I should
leave him in this dire extremity. I am by no means satisfied that I
can afford him no assistance, although he is a captive. He has no
claims upon you, and I should not expect you to remain, but, as I
said, I am determined not to leave this place until I have obtained
satisfactory intelligence of him.”
The trapper remained silent a few moments after this. He then spoke:
“I s’pose you mean right, Jarsey, but you’re awful simple. Yer’s as
what hopes you’ll find the other chap right side up and squar with his
ha’r on, but I don’t ’spect _your_ ha’r ’ll be yer’s to-night.
Howsumever you’re bound to stay, I see, so yer’s good luck. I’d like
to stay with you, but I ain’t backward to own Bill Biddon knocks under
_this_ time.”
He reached his hard, horny hand, and I took it.
“Good-by, Bill, I hope we shall meet again. We have not been long
acquainted, but I trust long enough to be friends.”
“And you’ll remember as how ole Bill Biddon didn’t mean what he said
just now.”
“Certainly, certainly, I know you did not.”
“Wal, good-by it is, then.”
A half-hour after and I was alone in the great wilderness of the
Northwest.
After parting with Biddon, I remained stationary a long time,
meditating upon the strange resolve that I had acted upon. If looked
at with the common-sense view that the honest trapper gave it, I was
sensible it was nothing less than a piece of recklessness upon my
part, which only could be excused by the motives that actuated me. I
felt some regret certainly at parting with Biddon, for that honest,
manly heart which throbbed within his massive breast had drawn me
toward him, and I knew he had come to regard me in a far different
light than he did at first. However, I was hopeful, and could not
persuade myself that I was never to see him again.
Toward night the sky gave evidence of an approaching storm. A strong
wind arose, and a melancholy, desolate moaning, like the precursor of
winter, could be heard at intervals in the forest. Darkness came on
earlier than usual, and, as I passed into the trapper’s home, the
storm burst upon me. No one who has not witnessed a storm in the
wilderness, can appreciate its awful grandeur. As I cowered within the
heart of the old forest king, its power was subdued to my ears; but
enough reached them to give me an idea of the terrific spectacle
without. The huge sides of the tree surrounding me rumbled and groaned
as though it were yielding to the hurricane; the wind blew with such
fury that at times it sounded as though wailing screams were rending
the air above me; and the sharp splintering of the trees riven by the
lightning, rivaled the crash of the thunderbolt itself.
As the morning approached, the storm gradually died away, and as I
stepped forth the sun was shining in unclouded splendor.
Slinging my rifle over my shoulder, I wandered aimlessly forward,
following the course of the stream for several hours. Finally,
becoming considerably wearied, I seated myself upon a fallen tree, to
gain a little rest; but my mind was in such a state of excitement that
the desire to press forward was irresistible, and I arose again.
As I stood upon the spot, I happened to look across the stream upon
the prairie. The river at this point was flowing east and west, so
that I looked to the southward; and as I did so I saw Biddon in the
distance, riding leisurely away. He was miles distant, so that I could
not hope to make my voice reach him; and as the prairie in many parts
was submerged, it was out of the question to pursue with the hope of
overtaking him. So I contented myself with watching him until he
disappeared. He appeared precisely the same as when Nat and I first
caught sight of him; and it struck me as a rather curious coincidence
that my first and last glimpse of him were similar. Shortly after, he
was a mere quivering speck on the horizon, and soon disappeared
altogether.
The storm which had just ended was the usher of the cold season. A
strong wind had arisen, and was blowing coldly through the forest. The
changes in these regions are remarkably sudden; and by the middle of
the afternoon, needles of ice put out along the shores of the stream.
I suffered much from this sudden and severe cold; and to make it
worse, everything upon which I could lay hands was so water-soaked as
to make it impossible to kindle a fire.
I continued wandering aimlessly onward, until I descended a large
valley, filled with trees of enormous growth. As I entered, I heard a
crackling in the bushes above me. I looked carefully about, but could
detect nothing, although the crackling was still heard. Creeping
cautiously and stealthily up the bank, I came upon the cause of this
apprehension. There was a species of fruit, called the “buffalo
berry,” quite numerous here, and in among them, seated on his
haunches, and contentedly devouring, was a grizzly bear. I started as
I took in his colossal form, and turned to make a hasty retreat; but
curiosity held me to the spot. He was a huge, unwieldy body; his
massive form being enveloped in a coat of long, black, glossy hair,
and his eyes small and glittering. His long nails rattled among the
leaves, as he pulled the bushes toward him, and plucked the delicate
fruit.
All at once a mad desire to take this formidable creature’s life came
upon me. I knew it was only the most skillful hunter who could prevail
against him, and yet I determined to take the risk. As he sat, his
side was turned toward me, and I made a low whistle to attract his
attention. He stopped chewing instantly, and turned his head toward
me as if listening. I could see his two coal-black eyes glistening
plainly. I was lying upon my face, with my rifle resting upon a stone
in front. Raising the hammer of my rifle, I took a long, a deliberate,
a sure aim at one of his eyes, and before he changed his head, pulled
the trigger.
“How does that suit?” I asked exultingly, expecting to see him give up
the ghost immediately. To my surprise and terror, I saw him sitting
unmoved and apparently unhurt, but looking about him, as if to
ascertain from what direction the shot had come. The next instant he
caught sight of the bluish wreath from my rifle, and with a low growl
of rage plunged directly toward me.
That cumbrous body could roll over the ground much faster than I
suspected, and I found that, when alarmed, I could also travel
rapidly. But in the tangled undergrowth I was no match for him, as he
crashed through it without the least inconvenience, and gained
rapidly. I saw he would assuredly overtake me before I could go a
hundred yards further; so throwing my rifle to the ground, I drew my
knife, and waited his attack. As he came rolling forward, the blood
from his wound trickled down, and daubed his mouth; while his red
tongue lolled out, his mouth was wide open, and his long and white
teeth shone with terrible ferocity. He was, indeed, a terrific animal,
and I drew a deep breath as I felt that a struggle for life or death
was at hand.
[Illustration: “I could see his two coal-black eyes glittering
plainly.”]
Suddenly, when a hundred feet distant, there came the _report of
another rifle_, and the brute halted, and gazed about him. I also cast
a wondering look around to see who my new friend was. No one was in
sight, yet I saw a faint curl of smoke rising from the bushes above
me. The bear also discovered it, and with another growl made toward
it. He had evidently been struck, and his rage was turned in another
direction. Hastily loading my rifle, I ran up the hill, intending to
follow and assist my unknown friend, but both he and the brute had
disappeared. I stood anxiously listening for some guiding sound, and
soon heard the report of a gun in the distance, followed by a faint
shout.
Tearing through the undergrowth, I dashed hastily forward, calling out
in loud tones, so that my friend might guide me to him. There was no
response homeward. I feared that he had suffered the fate which had
well-nigh been mine. The trail of the bear was now very plain to be
seen by the broken twigs, the rising branches, and the blood marks
upon the ground. Soon I reached the spot where the last struggle had
evidently taken place. The ground was torn up and cast about, and the
blood was spattered for many feet around. Following further, I came
upon the dead body of the brute. There was another bullet mark in the
head, and a ghastly wound in the throat from which an enormous
quantity of blood had poured.
But where was the author of this deed? Why had he fled? Who was he? I
looked about expecting to see him near at hand, but I was
disappointed. On the ground were the marks of a moccasin, and it was
evident my preserver was an Indian. This fact suggested other
questions. Had he been following me? Else how came he to be present
just at the instant needed? And what was his object? It could not be
that my life was sought, for, if such were the case, it had been
really spared, as I had been continually exposed through the day; and
in the occurrence just narrated, he had preserved my life at the
imminent risk of his own.
At any rate, the affair was singular and unaccountable. The Indian was
probably gazing upon me this moment, and I looked furtively about,
half-expecting to see his glowing eye-balls in the thick shrubbery
around.
It was now growing late, and I cast about for some place in which to
spend the night. The wind still blew, and a fire was indispensable. I
gathered several armfuls of twigs and branches, and pitched my camp
upon the banks of a small rippling stream, a tributary of the river
referred to. Here, after the expense of an almost incredible amount of
patience, I succeeded in starting a fire, and with the feeling of a
conqueror inhaled its glowing, cheerful warmth. The pangs of hunger
now began to make themselves felt, as I had tasted no food the entire
day. The grizzly bear lay but a short distance away, and, after a few
minutes’ debate, I concluded that he should answer the demands of
nature.
As I drew my knife, and started toward him, a shadow glided from
before me, and I saw a human form stealthily make off. I stopped
suddenly and hesitated, but finally went on, cut a piece from the
animal, and returned. Just before I reached the crackling fire, I
again saw a shadow flit before me and disappear. It was too distinct
and plain to be a freak of imagination, and it was evident that
something or somebody was following or watching. Whoever he might be,
I determined that, upon the first opportunity, he should have the
contents of my gun for his temerity.
The consciousness that some one was near at hand, watching, perhaps,
every motion, lessened my appetite somewhat. However, after skewering
a good-sized piece and roasting it, I made a hearty supper; and, as I
produced my inseparable pipe, I think, had it not been for the
instinctive presence of that invisible form, my enjoyment would have
been complete.
The pleasant warmth of the fire, the soothing effect of the pipe,
gradually threw a dreamy, half-unconsciousness over me, into which I
sunk with willing delight. As my listless eyes rested upon the glowing
embers, there came a strain of wonderful music, like the faint tones
of some distant wind-harp. I stirred not, but listened, fearing to
move lest the spell should be broken. Again came the wave of heavenly
harmony, swelling to the most inspiring grandeur, and then dying away
into faint, fluctuating tremors, fainter and fainter, till the
strained ear could just feel their waves. It sounded in the air above
me, and at that moment I knew that there was nothing real in my
experience, and I listened breathlessly for it again.
The music continued, I think, over an hour, and to this day it seems I
can hear it still. Such music I have never heard before or since. As I
sat alone that dark, stormy night, in the wilderness of the northwest,
hundreds of miles from civilization, it seemed there was a chord
within me that responded to the air tones above. It appeared
sometimes to sink until it had enveloped me in its wild thrilling
power, and then it suddenly swept upward, until I was pained with
intense listening. At last, it died away, and with a long sigh of
relief I awoke to full consciousness.
I have heard others narrate experience similar to mine and I leave the
explanation to the curious and investigating, convinced that I can
offer none that will be satisfactory.
I replenished the fire, folded my blanket around me, and lay down to
sleep. The night wind was howling dismally through the forest, and the
distant rush of the river made melancholy music. In a short time I
fell into a deep, and profound sleep.
I was aroused from this by feeling something working at my blanket. I
lay motionless a moment to ascertain the character of the threatened
danger. The next instant something struck me like the paw of an
animal; and, thinking a wolf had attacked me, I sprang to my feet with
a shout, threw off my blanket, and drew my knife. Instead of
confronting wolves, I met the gaze of a half-dozen savages! For a
moment I was completely bewildered.
“You go ’long with us,” said one, laying his hand upon my arm.
I saw that resistance would be useless. There were half a dozen fully
armed, and my rifle was in their hands.
“I am in your power,” said I; “do what you please with me.”