The Lost Wagon-Train.
Uncle Joe met them at the door, and, while they were relieving
themselves of their overcoats and weapons, asked innumerable questions
about their sojourn in the woods. Dick took the part of spokesman, and
described, in his rude, trapper's style, the scenes through which they
had passed, dwelling with a good deal of emphasis on the
"keerlessness" displayed by the Young Naturalist in attacking the
moose, and in starting off alone to fight the panther. The trapper
tried hard to suppress the feelings of pride which he really felt, and
favored the young hunter with a look that was intended to be severe,
but which was, in fact, a mingling of joy and satisfaction.
Frank bore the scolding which Uncle Joe administered with a very good
grace, for he knew that he deserved it.
"I'd like to take the youngster out on the prairy," said Dick, seating
himself before the fire, and producing his never-failing pipe. "I'll
bet that, arter he had follered me and Useless a year or two, he
wouldn't be in no great hurry to pitch into every wild varmint he come
acrost."
Frank made no reply, but taking the cubs from the pockets of his
overcoat, allowed them to run about the cabin--a proceeding which the
dogs, especially Brave, regarded with suspicion, and which they could
not be persuaded to permit, until they had received several hearty
kicks and cuffs from their masters.
"You can't blame the critters," said the trapper, puffing away at his
pipe. "It's their natur', an' I sometimes think that them dogs have a
deal more sense than their human masters, an'"----
"Supper's ready," interrupted Bob, the cook and man-of-all-work, and
this announcement put an end to all further conversation on the
subject.
The boys were highly delighted to find themselves seated at a
well-filled table once more, and Uncle Joe's good things rapidly
disappeared before their attacks. It made no difference to the
trapper, however. With him a few weeks "roughing it" in the woods was,
of course, no novelty. A log for a table, and a piece of clean bark
for a plate, answered his purpose as well as all the improvements of
civilization, which those who have been brought up in the settlements
regard as necessary to their very existence.
After supper, they drew their chairs in front of the fire, and Uncle
Joe and his brother solaced themselves with their pipes, while Bob
busied himself in clearing away the table and washing the dishes.
"This Bill Lawson," said the trapper, after taking a few puffs at his
pipe, to make sure that it was well lighted, "used to take it into his
head onct in awhile to act as guide for fellers as wanted to go to
Californy. He knowed every inch of the country from St. Joseph to the
mines, for he had been over the ground more'n you ever traveled
through these yere woods, an' he was called as good a guide as ever
tuk charge of a wagon-train. In course, I allers went with him on
these trips, as a sort o' pack-hoss an' hunter, cause ole Bill
couldn't think o' goin' anywhere without me; an' I have often thought
that the reason why he made them trips as guide, was jest to get a
good look at the folks; it reminded him o' the time when he had
parents, an' brothers an' sisters. He never laughed an' joked round
the camp-fires, as he used to do when me and him war off alone in the
mountains. He hardly ever said a word to any body besides me, an'
allers appeared to be sorrowful. This give him the name of 'Moody
Bill,' by which he was knowed all through the country. Every trader on
the prairy war acquainted with him, an' he allers tuk out a big train.
I never knowed him to lose but one, an' he lost himself with it. The
way it happened war this:
"One night, arter we had got about a week's journey west of Fort
Laramie, we stopped in a little oak opening, where we made our camp.
It war right in the heart o' the wust Injun country I ever see, an'
near a place where me an' ole Bill had often _cached_ our furs an'
other fixins, an' which we used as a kind o' camp when we war in that
part o' the country trappin' beaver an' fightin' Injuns. It war a cave
in the side of a mountain, an' the way we had it fixed nobody besides
ourselves couldn't find it. We never went in or come out of it until
arter dark, 'cause the Comanches were a'most allers huntin' 'bout the
mountains, an' we didn't want em to break up our harborin' place. We
had made up our minds that, arter we had seed our train safe through,
we would come back to our 'bar's hole,' as we called it, an' spend a
month or so in fightin' the Comanches an' skrimmagin' with the
grizzlies in the mountains.
"Wal, as I war sayin' we made our camp, an' while I war dressin' a
buck I had shot, ole Bill, as usual, leaned on his rifle, an' watched
the emigrants unpack their mules an' wagons, an' make their
preparations for the night. Arter supper he smoked a pipe, an' then
rolled himself up in his blanket an' said----'Dick, you know this
place, but you ain't no trapper;' an', without sayin' any more, he lay
down and went to sleep, leavin' me to station the guards, an' see that
every thing went on right durin' the night.
"I knowed well enough what ole Bill meant when he said, 'Dick, you
ain't no trapper.' He had seed Injun sign durin' the day, an' war
pokin' fun at me, cause I hadn't seed it too. I don't know, to this
day, how it war that I had missed it, for I had kept a good look-out,
an' I had allers thought that I war 'bout as good an Injun hunter as
any feller in them diggins, (allers exceptin' ole Bill and Bob Kelly;)
but the way the ole man spoke tuk me down a peg or two, an' made me
feel wusser nor you youngsters do when you get trounced at school for
missin' your lessons.
"Wal, as soon as it come dark, I put out the guards, an' then
shouldered my rifle, an' started out to see if I could find any sign
o' them Injuns that ole Bill had diskivered. It war as purty a night
as you ever see. The moon shone out bright an' clear, an', savin' the
cry of a whippoorwill, that come from a gully 'bout a quarter of a
mile from the camp, an' the barkin' o' the prairy wolves, every thing
war as still as death. You youngsters would have laughed at the idea
o' goin' out to hunt Injuns on such a night; but I knowed that there
must be somethin' in the wind, for ole Bill never got fooled about
sich things. Here in the settlements he wouldn't have knowed enough to
earn his salt; but out on the prairy he knowed all about things.
"Wal, I walked all round the camp, an' back to the place where I had
started from, an' not a bit of Injun sign did I see. There war a high
hill jest on the other side of the gully, an' I knowed that if there
war any Injuns about, an' they should take it into their heads to
pounce down upon us, they would jest show themselves in that
direction; so I sot down on the prairy, outside o' the wagons, which
war drawn up as a sort o' breastwork round the camp, and begun to
listen. I didn't hear nothin', however, until a'most midnight, and
then, jest arter I had changed the guards, an' was goin' back to my
place, I heered somethin' that made me prick up my ears. It war the
hootin' of an owl, an' it seemed to come from the hill.
"Now, you youngsters would'n't have seed any thing strange in that;
but a man who has spent his life among wild Injuns and varmints can
tell the difference atween a sound when it comes from an owl's throat,
and when it comes from a Comanche's; an' I to onct made up my mind
that it war a signal. Presently from the gully come the song of a
whippoorwill. It didn't sound exactly like the notes I had heered come
from that same gully but a few minits afore, an' I knowed that it war
another signal. When the whippoorwill had got through, I heered the
barkin' of a prairy wolf further up the gully to the right o' the
camp; an' all to onct the wolves, which had been barkin' an'
quarrelin' round the wagons, set up a howl, an' scampered away out o'
sight. This would have been as good a sign as I wanted that there war
Injuns about, even if I hadn't knowed it afore; so I sot still on the
ground to see what would be the next move.
"In a few minits I heered a rustlin' like in the grass a little to one
side of me. I listened, an' could tell by the sound that there was
somebody in there, crawlin' along on his hands an' knees. Nearer an'
nearer it come, an' when it got purty clost to me it stopped, an' I
seed an' Injun's head come up over the top o' the grass, an' I could
see that the rascal war eyein' me purty sharp. I sot mighty still,
noddin' my head a leetle as if I war fallin' asleep, keepin' an' eye
on the ole feller all the time to see that he didn't come none of his
Injun tricks on me, and finally give a leetle snore, which seemed to
satisfy the painted heathen, for I heered his 'ugh!' as he crawled
along by me into camp.
"What made you do that?" interrupted Archie, excitedly. "Why didn't
you muzzle him?"
"That the way you youngsters, what don't know nothin' about fightin'
Injuns, would have done," answered the trapper, with a laugh, "an' you
would have had your har raised for your trouble. But, you see, I
knowed that he had friends not a great way off, an' that the fust
motion I made to grab the rascal, I would have an arrer slipped into
me as easy as fallin' off a log. But I didn't like to have the varlet
behind me; so, as soon as I knowed that he had had time to get into
the camp, I commenced noddin' agin, an' finally fell back on the
ground, ker-chunk.
"I guess them Injuns that were layin' round in the grass laughed
_some_ when they see how quick I picked up my pins. I got up as though
I expected to see a hull tribe of Comanches clost on to me, looked all
round, an', arter stretchin' my arms as though I had enjoyed a good
sleep, I started along toward the place where one o' the guards war
standin'. I walked up clost to him, an' whispered:
"'Don't act as though you thought that any thing was wrong, but keep
your eyes on the grass. There's Injuns about.'
"The chap turned a leetle pale when he heered this; but although he
was as green as a punkin, as far as Injun fightin' war consarned, he
seemed to have the real grit in him, for he nodded in a way that
showed that he understood what I meant. I then dropped down on
all-fours, an' commenced crawlin' into the camp to find the Injun. The
fires had burned low, an' the moon had gone down, but still there war
light enough for me to see the rascal crawlin' along on the ground,
an' making toward one of the wagons. When he reached it, he raised to
his feet, an', arter casting his eyes about the camp, to make sure
that no one seed him, he lifted up the canvas an' looked in. Now war
my time. Droppin' my rifle, I sprung to my feet, an' started for the
varlet; but jest as I war goin' to grab him, one o' the women in the
wagon, who happened to be awake, set up a screechin'. The Injun
dropped like a flash o' lightnin', an', dodgin' the grab I made at
him, started for the other side o' the camp, jumpin' over the fellers
that were layin' round as easy as if he had wings. I war clost arter
him, but the cuss run like a streak; an finding that I war not likely
to ketch him afore he got out into the prairy, I jumped back for my
rifle an' tuk a flyin' shot at him, jest as he war divin' under a
wagon. I don't very often throw away a chunk o' lead, an', judgin' by
the way he yelled, I didn't waste one that time. He dropped like a
log, but war on his feet agin in a minit, an', without waitin' to ax
no questions, set up the war-whoop. I tell you, youngsters, the sound
o' that same war-whoop war no new thing to me. I've heered it
often--sometimes in the dead o' night, when I didn't know that there
war any danger about, an' it has rung in my ears when I've been
runnin' for my life, with a dozen o' the yellin' varlets clost to my
heels; but I never before, nor since, felt my courage give way as it
did on that night. Scarcely a man in the hull wagon-train, exceptin'
me an ole Bill, had ever drawed a bead on an Injun, an' I war a'most
sartin that I should have a runnin' fight with the rascals afore
mornin'.
"The whoop war answered from all round the camp, an' the way the
bullets an' arrers come into them ar wagons warn't a funny thing to
look at. My shot had 'wakened a'most every one in the camp, but there
warn't much sleepin' done arter the Injuns give that yell. Men, women,
an' children poured out o' the wagons, an' run about, gettin' in
everybody's way; an' sich a muss as war kicked up in that ar camp I
never heered afore. There war about seventy men in the train, an' they
war all good marksmen, but there war scarcely a dozen that thought o'
their rifles. They kept callin' on me an' ole Bill to save 'em, an'
never onct thought o' pickin' up their we'pons an' fightin' to save
themselves; an', in spite of all we could do, them ar cowardly sneaks
would get behind the women an' children for protection. It war enough
to frighten any one; an' although that ar warn't the fust muss o' the
kind I had been in, I felt my ole 'coon-skin cap raise on my head when
I thought what a slaughter there would be when them Comanches onct got
inside o' the camp. There war only a few of us to fight 'em, an' we
did the best we could, sendin' back their yells, an' bringin' the
death-screech from some unlucky rascal at every shot. But the Injuns
warn't long in findin' out how the land lay, an', risin' round us like
a cloud, they come pourin' into camp."