THE THREE TRAPPERS;
OR,
THE APACHE CHIEF’S RUSE.
BY SEELIN ROBINS,
Author of “The Specter Chief.”
NEW YORK:
BEADLE AND ADAMS, PUBLISHERS,
98 WILLIAM STREET.
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1871, by
FRANK STARR & CO.,
In the office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington.
CONTENTS
I Comanches 9
II In Camp 22
III The Comanches and Their Prize 27
IV The Emigrant Party 33
V Leonidas Swipes, Sheep Dealer 39
VI Florence Brandon 45
VII Fort Mifflin Institute 52
VIII An Apache Courtship 58
IX An Audacious Proceeding 64
X Preparing for the Pursuit 71
XI Pursuit 78
XII The Apache Gorge 84
XIII The Rescue 90
XIV Conclusion 97
THE THREE TRAPPERS.
CHAPTER I.
COMANCHES.
It was now quite late in the afternoon, and Fred Wainwright reined up
his mustang, and from his position took a survey of the surrounding
prairie. On his right stretched the broad dusty plain, broken by some
rough hills, and on his left wound the Gila, while in the distance could
be detected the faint blue of the Maggolien Mountains.
But it was little heed he paid to the natural beauties of the scene, for
an uncomfortable fear had taken possession of him during the last hour.
Once or twice he was sure he had detected, off towards the mountains
signs of Comanche Indians, and he was well satisfied that if such were
the case they had assuredly seen him, and just now he was speculating
upon the best line of retreat if such were the case.
“If they are off there, and set their eyes on me,” he speculated, “the
only chance for me is towards the Gila, and what can I do there?”
He might well ask the question, for it was one which would probably
require a speedy answer. The Comanches, as are well known, are among the
most daring riders and bravest red men on the American Continent, and
when they take it into their heads to follow up an enemy, one of three
things is certain—his destruction, a desperate fight or a skilful
escape.
The young hunter had no desire to encounter these specimens of
aboriginal cavalry, for he was certain in the first place that there
were half a dozen of them, and that it would be madness to stand his
ground, while his chances of eluding them were exceedingly dubious.
Although mounted on a fine mustang, there was little doubt but what the
Indians were equally well mounted, and he had little prospect of success
in a trial of speed.
There was only one thing in his favor, and that was that night was close
at hand. He was somewhat in the situation of the mariner when pursued by
the pirate, who sees his only hope of life in the friendly darkness
which is closing around. The young hunter looked at the low descending
sun, and wondered what kept it so long above the horizon, and then he
scanned every portion of the sky, to see whether no clouds were
gathering in masses, which would increase the intensity of the darkness.
But the sky was clear, although he remembered that there was no moon,
and when night should fairly come it would be one of Egyptian gloom,
which would give him all the shelter he wished.
At the precise point where the young hunter was journeying was a mass of
tall grass, which partially concealed himself and horse, and which, as a
natural consequence, he was reluctant to leave so long as he was sure
that danger threatened him. His little mustang advanced slowly, his
rider holding a tight rein and glancing toward the river, and then
toward the hills on the right, from which he expected each moment to see
the screeching Comanches emerge and thunder down toward him.
But as the sun dipped below the horizon the young hunter began to take
heart.
“If they give me an hour longer, I think my chances will be good,” he
muttered, growing more anxious each moment.
At one point in the hills he noticed a broken place, a sort of pass,
from which he seemed to feel a premonition that the Indians would sally
forth to make their attack; so before coming opposite he reined up,
determined to proceed no further until it was dark enough to be safe.
He had sat in this position a half an hour or so, and the gloom was
already settling over the prairie, when a succession of terrific yells
struck upon his ear, and glancing toward the hills, he saw half a dozen
Comanches thundering down toward him. The hunter at once threw himself
off his horse, and resting his rifle on his back, sighted at the
approaching redskins. They were nigh enough to be in range, and
satisfied that they could be intimidated in no other way, he took a
quick aim and fired.
Fred Wainwright possessed an extraordinary skill in the use of the
rifle, and the shriek and the frantic flinging up of the arms, and the
headlong stumble from his horse of the leading Comanche, showed that the
fright of his situation had not rendered his nerves unsteady.
This decided action had the effect of checking the tumultuous advance
for a few moments; but the hunter had been in the South-West long enough
to understand the nature of these Comanches, and he knew they would soon
be after him again. Springing on his horse therefore, he wheeled about
without a moment’s delay, and started at full speed on his back track.
Wainwright soon made the gratifying discovery that the speed of his own
mustang was equal to that of the animals bestrode by the Comanches, and
that even for a time he steadily drew away from them. But his own horse
was jaded with half a day’s tramp, and could maintain this tremendous
gait for comparatively a short period, while those of the Indians were
fresh and vigorous and could not fail soon to draw nigh him.
“However, if the fellow keeps this up for a half hour longer, we shall
care nothing for them.”
The little animal strained every nerve, and worked as if he knew the
fate of himself and master was depending upon his efforts. The young
hunter glanced over his shoulder and could just discern his followers
through the gloom, they still shouting and yelling like madmen, as if
they sought to paralyze him through great terror. He loaded his gun as
he rode, and several times was on the point of turning and exchanging
shots with them; but he did not forget there were two parties to the
business, and that their return shots might either kill or wound himself
or mustang, the ultimate result in each case being the same. So he gave
his whole attention to getting over the prairie as fast as possible.
About fifteen minutes had elapsed when the crack of a rifle rung out
upon the air, and the bullet whistled within a few feet of the head of
the fugitive. He again looked back and could see nothing of his
pursuers. At this juncture he struck in among some tall grass similar to
that in which he halted when he first beheld the Comanches; and at the
same instant he saw that his beast was rapidly giving out.
He hated to part with him but it could not be helped. Delay would be
fatal, and reining his horse down to a moderate canter, he sprang to the
earth and gave him a blow, which sent him with renewed speed on his way.
Then running rapidly a few rods the hunter dropped flat on his face and
listened. All the time he heard the thundering of the approaching
horsemen, but he did not dare to raise his head to look. They came
nearer and nearer, and the next moment had passed by and for the present
he was safe.
Not doubting but that they would speedily come up with the fleeing
mustang and discover the ruse played upon them, Wainwright arose to his
feet and made all haste toward the Gila.
By this time it was very dark and he was guided only by a general
knowledge of the direction in which it lay, and by the sound of its
gentle flowing. Once along its steep banks he felt sure of being able to
conceal himself, and, if needful, of throwing his enemies off his trail
entirely, should they attempt pursuit, when it again became light.
Hurrying thus carelessly forward he committed a natural blunder but one
which made him ashamed of himself. He walked straight off the bank a
dozen feet high, dropping within a yard of a small camp fire, around
which were seated two trappers smoking their pipes.
“Hullo, stranger, did you drop from the clouds?” asked one of them,
merely turning his head without changing his position. The other turned
his eyes slightly but did nothing more. “This ’yer what I call a new
style of introducing yourself into gentlemen’s society; shoot me for a
beaver if it aint!”
“That it is,” laughed Wainwright, “but you see I was in quite a hurry!”
“What made you in such a hurry?”
“I was fleeing from Indians——”
“What’s that?” demanded both of them in a breath.
“I was fleeing from Indians, and was looking more behind than in front
of me.”
“That yer’s what I call a different story,” exclaimed the oldest,
springing up and dashing the burning embers apart, so as to extinguish
the light as soon as possible. It required but a few moments thoroughly
to complete the work, when he turned to Wainwright and asked in a
whisper:
“Mought they be close at hand, stranger?”
“I don’t think they are.”
“Have you time to talk a few minutes?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Then just squat yourself on the ground and tell us all about this
scrape you ’pear to have got yourself into.”
Our hero did as requested, giving a succinct account of what we have
told the reader, beginning the narration at precisely the same point in
which we did, and carrying it up to his “stepping off” the bank. The two
trappers listened respectfully until he was done, when one of them gave
an expressive grunt.
“'Younker, you don’t look as if you had two faces, and I make no doubt
you’ve told us the truth; but it was qua’r you should happen to be
trampin’ alone so far away from the settlement.”
“I was with a party of hunters this morning, but became separated from
them and was on my return to the camp when I was shut off in the manner
I have told you.”
“Do you want to get back to them?”
“I aint particular,” laughed the young hunter, with a peculiar
expression. “It aint likely they have waited an hour for me when they
discovered my absence, and so I should be at a loss to know where to
look for them.”
“Wal, it’s all the same to us,” said the trapper; “you don’t look like a
scamp, and you can stay with us, if you want to do so.”
“You see, furthermore, that I have lost my horse, and shall have to take
it afoot until I can buy or capture another.”
“We can fix that up easy enough,” grunted the trapper. “My hoss Blue
Blazes can carry all that can get on his back, and we can give you a
lift till you can scare up an animile of some kind or other.”
It was plain that the trappers were really kind at heart, and were
anxious to give the young hunter a “lift.” They were rough in their
manner and speech but the diamond is frequently forbidding in its
appearance until it is polished, and the wonderful gem displayed.
While this trapper was conversing with the stranger, his companion had
stealthily made his way down the bank some distance, where he had
clambered up on the plain, and made a reconnoissance to assure himself
that the “coast was clear.” Discovering nothing suspicious, he had
turned back again and speedily rejoined the other two.
The fire having completely gone out they were left in entire darkness
sitting together on the bank of the Gila.
One of the trappers was short, muscular, with a compact frame,
resembling in physique the renowned Kit Carson. His name was George
Harling, and he hailed from Missouri, and was a hunter and trapper of a
dozen years experience. He was generally mild, quick and genial
tempered, but when in the Comanche fight, or when on the trail of some
of the daring marauders of the northern tribes, he was a perfect terror,
fearless, dashing and heedless of all danger.
The second hunter who hitherto had maintained the principal part of the
conversation with Wainwright was a tall, lank, bony individual, restless
in manner and sometimes impulsive in speech, was called Ward Lancaster,
and seemed to have tramped in every part of the country west of the
Mississippi; for you could not mention a tribe of Indians, or a peculiar
locality, but what he had been there, and had something interesting to
tell about it.
He was about fifty years of age, with not a gray hair in his head, and
with as gleaming an eye as he possessed thirty years before, when he
first placed his foot on the western bank of the Father of Waters, and
slinging his rifle over his shoulder, plunged into the vast wilderness,
an eager sharer in the adventures and dangers that awaited him.
Ward was a pleasant, even tempered individual, who, when led into the
ambush, and fighting desperately the dusky demons who were swarming
around him, did so as cooly and cautiously as he galloped over the
billowy prairie. He was one of those individuals who seemed born to act
as guide and director for parties traversing those regions, where it
seems to a man of ordinary ability, fully a lifetime would be required
to gain a comparatively slight knowledge. His instinct was never known
to be at fault. When in the midst of the immense arid plains, which
stretched away on every hand, until like the ocean it joined the sky; in
the centre of these vast tracts, with man and beast famishing for water,
and when no one else could see the clue, by which to escape from the
dreadful situation, Ward displayed a knowledge or intuition, which to
say the least, was extraordinary. Looking up to the brassy sky, and then
away to the distant horizon, and then at the parched ground, he would
fall into a deep reverie, which would last for a few moments, at the end
of which he would start off at a rapid gallop toward some invisible
point, and the end of that ride was——water.
When questioned as to the manner by which he acquired this remarkable
skill, the trapper never gave a satisfactory answer. He sometimes said
it must be that he scented the water; but, as it is well known that this
element has no smell, taste or color, although the presence of
vegetation, which it causes, and which is nearly always a sign of it,
frequently gives out a strong odor, which guides the thirsty animal from
a long distance, yet it cannot be supposed for an instant that the
hunter acquired his wonderful knowledge in this manner. No human
olfactories have ever been known to hold a hundredth part of the
delicacy necessary for such an exploit. Ward always smiled rather
significantly when he gave such an answer.
It might be that he was really ignorant of the means by which he
possessed such a superiority over his fellow creatures in this respect,
and which made them only too glad to follow him to any point he
indicated, without fear of consequences; or it may be that he had
acquired some subtle secret of the “hidden springs” of nature—some
knowledge of her means of working—so hidden from human knowledge that
they can be reached by no process of reasoning, and are only discovered
(which is rarely the case,) by accident.
Such a knowledge, or “gift,” as it is properly termed, is frequently
found among the North American Indians—a people whose inability to grasp
the simplest truths of art or science, is too well known to need
reference here. Some withered old Medicine man, or wrinkled old woman,
with her crooning and sorcery, is frequently the depository of a secret
in medicines,—of the subtle working in certain forms of disease, of some
apparently harmless plant, which when made known to the prying eyes of
his pale faced brother, has made his fame and reputation and has given
him a name for learning and skill, that has made him the enemy of the
whole profession.
How many of the colossal fortunes of the present day have been builded
upon the knowledge of some Medicine Man, or some negro woman who has
gained a well founded reputation among the ignorant people.
So we say Ward Lancaster may have stumbled upon some secret of nature’s
workings, which the jealous dame had carefully veiled from other eyes;
and in the presence of this knowledge he never went astray.
The hunter was full of adventures, and could recount his experience by
the hour as he sat smoking around the camp fire, at the end of the
chase, or at the close of the day’s tramp. He had acted as guide to
several expeditions which had crossed the Rocky Mountains into
California and Oregon; and, at the present time, he and Harling were
looking for a caravan or large emigrant party, which they had been sent
from Santa Fe to intercept and guide into Lower California.
Having thus introduced somewhat at length our friends to our readers, we
come to speak more particularly of their first meeting. They soon
explained each other’s name and destination to each other, when Ward
seemed disposed to question Wainwright still further. He thought he saw
about the young man signs indicating that he had followed this hunting
and trapping business but a comparatively short time. His well shaped
hands, had not the brown, hardy character which characterized those of
his companions, and the jetty luxuriant beard failed to conceal the
rosy-tinted skin, which could never have been retained under the storm
and tempest of the prairie.
Wainwright, however, skilfully parried the questions when they came too
close, or refused to answer them altogether.
“I belong further east,” said he, “but there are some things which I
don’t choose to tell at present. The time may come when I shall be glad
to do so, but it hasn’t come yet.”
“All right; that yer is what I call a hint to keep my mouth shet.
Howsomever, you’ll allow me to ask another question or two.”
“Certainly, you may _ask_ all you please,” replied the young hunter,
with a significant intonation.
“How long have you been on the prairies, and among the mountains?”
“A little over a year.”
“Been with one party of hunters all the time?”
“No; with half a dozen, and once with a party of Indians.”
“Have you learned any thing of the ways of the mountains and prairies in
that time?”
“As I expect to be associated with you for some time, I will waive that
question for a few months, and then allow you to answer it for
yourself.”
“That’s sensible,” grunted Harling, “I’ve only one more question to ax.”
“I am ready to hear it.”
“What brought you out here? A quarrel, love adventure, or what?”
“If any one asks you such a question tell him you are unable to answer
it.”
This was a decided reply, and the trapper so accepted it. They had
conversed together in low tones, occasionally pausing and listening for
any sound of their enemies, but they heard none—nothing breaking the
stillness but the solemn flow of the dark river.
“I think,” said Harling, “we had better move our quarters, for these
sneaking Comanches can smell a white man, about as far as you can smell
water.”
“Yes, what I was a thinkin’ on,” muttered his companion, “Mo
when-your-right, or Wainwright, you’ll foller.”
The three began stealing along the bank of the river, frequently pausing
and listening, but as yet, hearing nothing suspicious. The sky had
cleared somewhat during the last hour, and the clouds which had
overspread it after the sun went down, and a number of stars were
visible. Still it was very gloomy, the party being barely able to
discern a few feet in front of them, as they advanced so stealthily upon
their way.
Ward took the lead, his form being faintly visible, as he carefully
picked his way, while behind him came Harling, and our hero, the young
hunter, brought up the rear. The latter had heard them speak of their
horses, and knew of course that they must be the owners of animals,
which were so indispensable in this desolate country; but he wondered
where they were kept, as he failed to see anything of them.
“However, I shall learn all in due time,” was his conclusion, as they
walked leisurely along.
They had progressed in this manner perhaps for a third of a mile, when
the leader hastily scrambled up the bank the others following, found
themselves on the edge of the prairie, which had witnessed the exciting
chase between the Comanches and the young hunter, a few hours before.
By this time the sky had cleared and objects could be seen quite
distinctly, for a considerable distance. The three men halted and looked
out upon the prairie, but saw nothing but darkness.
“Where are your horses!” inquired Wainwright.
“About a mile from here.”
“Aint you afraid of losing them!”
“Not much; they’re lied where it would take a pair of sharp eyes to find
them.”
“But those Comanches——”
“Sh!” interrupted the trapper, “I hear something walking.”
They listened, and the faintest sounds of footfalls could be heard,
quite hesitatingly, as if some one were very cautiously approaching
them.
“Down!” whispered Ward, sinking silently to the earth, “whoever it is is
coming this way.”
The others were not slow in imitating his example, and lying thus upon
the ground intently listening, they now and then caught a dull sound, as
if made by an Indian carrying a heavy body, with which he retreated, as
often as he advanced. A person who had had no experience of prairie life
would have failed to hear the sound at all; but all three of our friends
heard it distinctly.
Ward Lancaster had detected the direction of the sound, and was peering
out on the prairie in the hope of discerning the cause of it. All at
once he gave utterance to a suppressed exclamation, and then added, as
he turned his head.
“What do you s’pose it is?”
“I am sure I cannot tell,” replied Wainwright.
“It’s a horse, and if I’m not powerful mistaken it’s your own animal;
but hold on; don’t rise; it may be a trick of the Comanches to find out
where you are.”
The horse steadily advanced until a few feet of the prostrate men, when
it pawed and snuffed the air Ward then quietly arose, and before the
animal could wheel about, he seized the bridle and held it a prisoner.
Wainwright then came up and found that it was his own mustang, with all
his accoutrements complete.
“How fortunate!” he exclaimed in pleased surprise, as he examined the
saddle and bridle; “every thing seems to be here.”
So it proved, and Wainwright lost no time in putting himself astride of
his mustang. Following the direction of his friends, they soon reached a
small clump of stunted trees and undergrowth, where the trappers’ horses
were found. It was at first proposed that they should encamp here for
the night, but, as the Comanches were unquestionably in the vicinity,
they concluded to get as far away as possible. So they mounted their
animals, and under the leadership of Ward took the river for their
guide, and rode at a moderate walk until daylight, by which time they
had placed many a long mile between themselves and their dusky enemies.
The hunters scrutinized every suspicious point and took a careful survey
of the surrounding prairie and hills, but discovered nothing suspicious,
and they concluded that there was nothing further to fear from these
wild riders of the plains.
The range of hills was still in sight, and offered a secure hiding place
for any of their enemies who chose to conceal themselves there, but if
such were the case, the trappers were confident they could detect them,
and failing in this they believed themselves justified in coming to the
conclusion mentioned.
Ward took his bearings and headed towards a point where he hoped to
intercept the emigrant train; but when night came they had not yet
reached it, and they encamped in a small grove. Wainwright had brought
down an antelope with his rifle, at such a distance as to extort a
compliment from the hunters, and thus bountifully provided for supper,
they counted upon a pleasant evening.